Like I said in my xanga, Steven Curtis Chapman always said it better than I:
Great Expectations
The morning finds me here at Heaven's door
A place I've been so many times before
Familiar thoughts and phrases start to flow
And carry me to places that I know so well
But dare I go where I don't understand
And do I dare remember where I am
I stand before the Great Eternal Throne
the one that God himself is seated on, and I
I've been invited as a son, oh I
I've been invited to come and
Believe the unbelievable
Receive the inconceivable
And see beyond my wildest imaginations
Lord, I come with great expectations
So wake the hope that slumbers in my soul
And stir the fire inside and make it grow
I'm trusting in a love that has no end
The Saviour of this world has called me friend....
I have so much to say that I am presently incapable of articulating. I hope to articulate in my next post.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
I'm not really talking about cigarettes
What is there to say, really. Oops? I'm sorry? Oh, lookie there, I messed it up again?
I wonder...how do you know when you've really, truly beaten a habit or addiction?
Say you smoke cigarettes. Say you're addicted-- you've smoked for years and you can't go more than a few hours without lighting up. How do you know when you're free of that?
The obvious answer is, of course, when you have stopped smoking and no longer crave it. Sometimes habits like that are easier to break when you've made a big change in your life. Not always-- maybe not often, but since this is my hypothetical situation I can make it as unrealistic or improbable as I darn well please. So say you move-- start a new job in a new place and decide to kick the cancer sticks to the curb once and for all. And you do it. You stop smoking-- you don't even want to smoke anymore. The idea of it bores you, even makes you a little nauseated. And you're fine. You thank God for it (because this hypothetical smoker is a Christian, of course) because this was not an easy or short-lived battle.
Then you go visit your friends from your old job. Lovely people, good memories, a lot of traditions and histories. And without even thinking about it, you buy a pack of Camels and light up. Force of habit. When you're in this place, with these people, you smoke. It's what you do. It's how you relieve stress. You don't really even realize you're inhaling til you hear yourself coughing and you're staring at a half-full ashtray and the room is slightly hazy. You are in fact so numbed and so dulled by the normalcy, by the familiarity, of your surroundings that a large part of you doesn't even care that, oh, let's say, six months of freedom has been reneged.
Where are you then?
Are you still addicted? Are you simply fallen for the time being? Does this mean that you should just avoid those old friends who remain such a large part of your life? Is it them? Are you a complete failure? Was the past half-year a complete loss just because you lit up? Because you weren't prepared for the power of habit and familiarity? Because you didn't realize what you'd be walking right into when you went back?
How does one prepare for such a situation anyway?
Were you ever really free to begin with? Did those six months really count as freedom; do you annul your victory as soon as the lighter meets the tip?
I really need to know.
I wonder...how do you know when you've really, truly beaten a habit or addiction?
Say you smoke cigarettes. Say you're addicted-- you've smoked for years and you can't go more than a few hours without lighting up. How do you know when you're free of that?
The obvious answer is, of course, when you have stopped smoking and no longer crave it. Sometimes habits like that are easier to break when you've made a big change in your life. Not always-- maybe not often, but since this is my hypothetical situation I can make it as unrealistic or improbable as I darn well please. So say you move-- start a new job in a new place and decide to kick the cancer sticks to the curb once and for all. And you do it. You stop smoking-- you don't even want to smoke anymore. The idea of it bores you, even makes you a little nauseated. And you're fine. You thank God for it (because this hypothetical smoker is a Christian, of course) because this was not an easy or short-lived battle.
Then you go visit your friends from your old job. Lovely people, good memories, a lot of traditions and histories. And without even thinking about it, you buy a pack of Camels and light up. Force of habit. When you're in this place, with these people, you smoke. It's what you do. It's how you relieve stress. You don't really even realize you're inhaling til you hear yourself coughing and you're staring at a half-full ashtray and the room is slightly hazy. You are in fact so numbed and so dulled by the normalcy, by the familiarity, of your surroundings that a large part of you doesn't even care that, oh, let's say, six months of freedom has been reneged.
Where are you then?
Are you still addicted? Are you simply fallen for the time being? Does this mean that you should just avoid those old friends who remain such a large part of your life? Is it them? Are you a complete failure? Was the past half-year a complete loss just because you lit up? Because you weren't prepared for the power of habit and familiarity? Because you didn't realize what you'd be walking right into when you went back?
How does one prepare for such a situation anyway?
Were you ever really free to begin with? Did those six months really count as freedom; do you annul your victory as soon as the lighter meets the tip?
I really need to know.
Friday, December 23, 2005
I like titling my posts randomly so that most of the time the title has nothing to do with the subject matter.
I have not gotten enough sleep of late. This will be a posting of questions that occur to me when I am sleep-deprived.
1. How do they get those straws that come with milkshakes to turn colors when you suck through them?
2. How do swirly seashells get those pointy arms on them?
3. Why isn't "phonetic" spelled the way it sounds?
4. Who would really eat a pine cone?
5. How did NASA find out about the Van Allen radiation belts?
6. What is the etymology of "etymology"?
7. What was I thinking?
8. What did the asteroid belt used to be?
9. How is one born awkward? Is there a gene for that or something?
There are only nine. I think there were more...I wish I could at least stretch it to ten...but I can't. My family and some church people are caroling in my neighborhood tonight. Should be cold.
oh. I thought of a tenth one. How does Relient K come up with their lyrics? Cuz they're really cool...
1. How do they get those straws that come with milkshakes to turn colors when you suck through them?
2. How do swirly seashells get those pointy arms on them?
3. Why isn't "phonetic" spelled the way it sounds?
4. Who would really eat a pine cone?
5. How did NASA find out about the Van Allen radiation belts?
6. What is the etymology of "etymology"?
7. What was I thinking?
8. What did the asteroid belt used to be?
9. How is one born awkward? Is there a gene for that or something?
There are only nine. I think there were more...I wish I could at least stretch it to ten...but I can't. My family and some church people are caroling in my neighborhood tonight. Should be cold.
oh. I thought of a tenth one. How does Relient K come up with their lyrics? Cuz they're really cool...
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
David and Jonathan
I got home Sunday afternoon. I had already half-decided that this was gonna be another not-so-good break.
My breaks have been not-so-great thus far because my circle of acquaintance exploded when I moved to Oklahoma. When I come home I return to monotony and stagnation. Therefore monotony and stagnation was all I was anticipating.
Which is not the best of mindsets to start off a month-long stay with your family. So on Monday I asked God to change my mind. Because if something didn't change I would spend the season of the birth of Christ slightly miserable. Slightly miserable is not my idea of a merry Christmas. And I figured my family wasn't about to change, so it was on me.
I prayed on Monday-- actually I prayed on Saturday and prayed again on Monday. Late Monday evening I began to notice some things.
My sister Lauren is pretty much the same, only more stressed out because of her teaching job. My father is daily giving all of himself for the students at our school and all too often getting nothing worthwhile in return. My mom is at her job all day and handling the family workload that is Christmas all night. My brother James and sister Sarah haven't changed. Josh is still Josh. Timmy acts like a ten year old because he is one, and Abi is a fourth grader.
But I have been pleasantly surprised in Jonny and David. Perhaps this is because they more so than the others are at an age for change (15 and 14 respectively). But when I left in August they were little boys. Now of a sudden they are young men. Imperfect and immature, but growing and improving. I have gotten mad at both of them since being home, but behind the temporary annoyance lurked a puzzled smile--who are these guys, anyway? Who are they becoming? Not to brag, but I'm kind of excited to see, because they're both pretty cool.
Now if only I could make them Yankees fans...
My breaks have been not-so-great thus far because my circle of acquaintance exploded when I moved to Oklahoma. When I come home I return to monotony and stagnation. Therefore monotony and stagnation was all I was anticipating.
Which is not the best of mindsets to start off a month-long stay with your family. So on Monday I asked God to change my mind. Because if something didn't change I would spend the season of the birth of Christ slightly miserable. Slightly miserable is not my idea of a merry Christmas. And I figured my family wasn't about to change, so it was on me.
I prayed on Monday-- actually I prayed on Saturday and prayed again on Monday. Late Monday evening I began to notice some things.
My sister Lauren is pretty much the same, only more stressed out because of her teaching job. My father is daily giving all of himself for the students at our school and all too often getting nothing worthwhile in return. My mom is at her job all day and handling the family workload that is Christmas all night. My brother James and sister Sarah haven't changed. Josh is still Josh. Timmy acts like a ten year old because he is one, and Abi is a fourth grader.
But I have been pleasantly surprised in Jonny and David. Perhaps this is because they more so than the others are at an age for change (15 and 14 respectively). But when I left in August they were little boys. Now of a sudden they are young men. Imperfect and immature, but growing and improving. I have gotten mad at both of them since being home, but behind the temporary annoyance lurked a puzzled smile--who are these guys, anyway? Who are they becoming? Not to brag, but I'm kind of excited to see, because they're both pretty cool.
Now if only I could make them Yankees fans...
Sunday, December 18, 2005
My little brother used my quilt while I was away. I hope they washed it.
Over the past four months or so that comprised my first semester of college, I began to flatter myself that I was becoming quite a capable young lady. So I was not at all worried about flying home by myself. Why should I be? Piece of cake. It's not exactly complicated, you know, especially when your boarding pass is emailed to you and all you have to do is check your bags and traipse merrily to your waiting flight. Not hard at all. Why, a child could do it.
This is all true. However. I do not live at the airport. I live half an hour away from the airport. So to accomplish the easy task of checking in and whatnot, I have to GET to the airport.
And all of you wonderfully bright people cry in unison, "Simple! Take a shuttle!" Ah, yes, dear ones, simple indeed. ORU ever so graciously provided it's wheel-less students with vans to cart them to and from the airport. So all that remains for the student is to be at the shuttle place on time.
Ay, there's the rub...I, capable young lady of eighteen summers, am apparently unable to wake to an abnormally strident and shrill alarm clock. So I do not catch the four o'clock shuttle for my 5.30 flight-- I catch the 4.45. I get to the airport at ten after, and that only because the shuttle driver was none other than my own dear former TA, Anna Scott, who drove like one possessed. And who refused to leave until she was sure they had let me on the plane. Which they didn't. Because by the time the nice but extremely lackadaisical people in front of me had reached the front of the line, it was 5.23. So I was switched to a 10.30 this morning.
Ten thirty? No problem.
I woke up at twenty after eight. I had planned to wake up at quarter after seven.
Again, no big deal. I got downstairs by eight thirty to catch the 8.45. I had sat in the freezing cold for several minutes when a cold, slimy, all-too-familiar fear began to wrap its oily tentacles around my heart. I turned around-- slowly-- and read the poster above me. Four times.
There would be no 8.45 shuttle. There would be no 9.00 shuttle. The next shuttle wasn't due til four. In the afternoon.
Chaos ensued. I tore up to Towers and called Josh Young, because he was the only person left on campus that I knew who had a car. I woke him up. He agreed to take me if i could give him directions. So Rachel went to her computer.
Enter Murphy's Law: when you are in a hurry to get something off of your computer, your computer will inevitably crash. What we got was a few hurried notations that didn't make any sense. So we got lost.
Somewhere on the Creek turnpike there is a stout elderly tollbooth gentleman who deserves life's choicest blessings. He gave wonderful directions. The problem: we were twenty miles out of the way and it was past 9.30. But Josh got that look on his face: the half sneer that all drivers get when faced with such a challenge-- "twenty miles? That's cake."
We were going 90 for most of the way...I think we pushed 100 at one point. You could barely feel it. What a car.
Made it to the airport at 10.00. Now I am home. My flights were uneventful-- thankfully on my connection from Chicago there was a seat between myself and the large lumpy shiny-pated man beside me, else I would have suffered a fate like unto Kimi's.
In retrospect it was all very funny. But I am really ashamed of myself for this morning. I put a lot of people to a lot of unneccessary trouble. I felt like a little kid. In a not nice way. So now I am home. There is snow everywhere. But I will save that for later...
...that's right...keep you coming back for more....
This is all true. However. I do not live at the airport. I live half an hour away from the airport. So to accomplish the easy task of checking in and whatnot, I have to GET to the airport.
And all of you wonderfully bright people cry in unison, "Simple! Take a shuttle!" Ah, yes, dear ones, simple indeed. ORU ever so graciously provided it's wheel-less students with vans to cart them to and from the airport. So all that remains for the student is to be at the shuttle place on time.
Ay, there's the rub...I, capable young lady of eighteen summers, am apparently unable to wake to an abnormally strident and shrill alarm clock. So I do not catch the four o'clock shuttle for my 5.30 flight-- I catch the 4.45. I get to the airport at ten after, and that only because the shuttle driver was none other than my own dear former TA, Anna Scott, who drove like one possessed. And who refused to leave until she was sure they had let me on the plane. Which they didn't. Because by the time the nice but extremely lackadaisical people in front of me had reached the front of the line, it was 5.23. So I was switched to a 10.30 this morning.
Ten thirty? No problem.
I woke up at twenty after eight. I had planned to wake up at quarter after seven.
Again, no big deal. I got downstairs by eight thirty to catch the 8.45. I had sat in the freezing cold for several minutes when a cold, slimy, all-too-familiar fear began to wrap its oily tentacles around my heart. I turned around-- slowly-- and read the poster above me. Four times.
There would be no 8.45 shuttle. There would be no 9.00 shuttle. The next shuttle wasn't due til four. In the afternoon.
Chaos ensued. I tore up to Towers and called Josh Young, because he was the only person left on campus that I knew who had a car. I woke him up. He agreed to take me if i could give him directions. So Rachel went to her computer.
Enter Murphy's Law: when you are in a hurry to get something off of your computer, your computer will inevitably crash. What we got was a few hurried notations that didn't make any sense. So we got lost.
Somewhere on the Creek turnpike there is a stout elderly tollbooth gentleman who deserves life's choicest blessings. He gave wonderful directions. The problem: we were twenty miles out of the way and it was past 9.30. But Josh got that look on his face: the half sneer that all drivers get when faced with such a challenge-- "twenty miles? That's cake."
We were going 90 for most of the way...I think we pushed 100 at one point. You could barely feel it. What a car.
Made it to the airport at 10.00. Now I am home. My flights were uneventful-- thankfully on my connection from Chicago there was a seat between myself and the large lumpy shiny-pated man beside me, else I would have suffered a fate like unto Kimi's.
In retrospect it was all very funny. But I am really ashamed of myself for this morning. I put a lot of people to a lot of unneccessary trouble. I felt like a little kid. In a not nice way. So now I am home. There is snow everywhere. But I will save that for later...
...that's right...keep you coming back for more....
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Saga karaoke is worse than normal karaoke
([In imitation of George] currently listening to: "When the Rain Comes" by Third Day)
I learned something. Do not post immediatelyafter going somewhere or doing something. You have to let yourself simmer for a while, have to let all of your perceptions and feelings boil down into something. This is what I wanted to write last night after simmering a while, but I couldn't because I had already posted.
I realized something Tuesday night, sitting by the fire at Nordaggio's and watching all of the people studying and socializing and coffeeing. I don't need anyone's appoval. I don't need human validation to be a satisfied and fulfilled person.
I didn't mean for that to sound cold. Of course everyone needs friends, but this isn't like an "I have no friends, but I don't care, who needs those jerks anyway, I'll just hole up in my room and never shower and become the unabomber" thing. It's more like an "I don't need to look to other people for wholenesss" thing. For the first time in a long time, Tuesday night I felt comfortable in, with, and by myself. I wasn't really by myself...I had friends around me the whole night. But even if I hadn't I would've been ok. I gained a new appreciation for silence-- something I lost when I came to school-- the value of silence with friends. Here I have felt a near-frantic need to keep conversations going, light, funny. Tuesday night I remembered that it was okay, that it was better, to just sit with people and think and hum and smile.
It's a good feeling.
On a different note, I went up to the penthouse at 7 this morning to watch the sunrise. It's amazing what kind of details you can see on sunlit tree silhouettes. I swear I saw twigs at a mile distant.
I learned something. Do not post immediatelyafter going somewhere or doing something. You have to let yourself simmer for a while, have to let all of your perceptions and feelings boil down into something. This is what I wanted to write last night after simmering a while, but I couldn't because I had already posted.
I realized something Tuesday night, sitting by the fire at Nordaggio's and watching all of the people studying and socializing and coffeeing. I don't need anyone's appoval. I don't need human validation to be a satisfied and fulfilled person.
I didn't mean for that to sound cold. Of course everyone needs friends, but this isn't like an "I have no friends, but I don't care, who needs those jerks anyway, I'll just hole up in my room and never shower and become the unabomber" thing. It's more like an "I don't need to look to other people for wholenesss" thing. For the first time in a long time, Tuesday night I felt comfortable in, with, and by myself. I wasn't really by myself...I had friends around me the whole night. But even if I hadn't I would've been ok. I gained a new appreciation for silence-- something I lost when I came to school-- the value of silence with friends. Here I have felt a near-frantic need to keep conversations going, light, funny. Tuesday night I remembered that it was okay, that it was better, to just sit with people and think and hum and smile.
It's a good feeling.
On a different note, I went up to the penthouse at 7 this morning to watch the sunrise. It's amazing what kind of details you can see on sunlit tree silhouettes. I swear I saw twigs at a mile distant.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Sharayah is small
I am discovering this anew. Because I am using her computer, lying on the space she has allotted herself on the floor of Kelli's room. I am crammed onto this miniscule portion of carpeting, trying to type with my elbows at a very interesting angle.
I am listening to the bio majors in the next room make up songs to sing the periodic table of the elements to. It's not a very good song.
I think they used the Borg queen as the white witch in the Narnia movie. Seems fitting. I do wish they had made Aslan more...well...I just didn't really see the Aslan I saw in the books. It was better than most movies based on books are.
I think I'd rather read my Bible, though.
Have you seen the moon tonight
Sugar-white perfection
With radiant beams of purest white
Our heart's connection
Carries me back to a lullaby
Sweetest song in my memory
Of mama's voice on moonlit nights
To hush her baby
I see the moon
the moon sees me
the moon sees the one that I want to see
God bless the moon
and God bless me
and God bless the one I'm longing to see
Have you ever noticed the man in the moon
he's the master of reflection
Somehow he knows and imitates
my heart's expressions
sometimes he's melting in clouds of tears
or shining my smile like the bright sun
but look tonight the moon looks like
he's missing someone
I see the moon
the moon sees me
the moon sees the one that
I want to see
God bless the moon
God bless me
and God bless the one I'm longing to see.
--Chris Rice
I just wasted so much time typing that here. But I love that song.
The flesh is quite a force to be reckoned with. Sometimes I'm spending so much time on the devil I tend to forget the flesh. Which can be twice as insidious and creeping.
I am listening to the bio majors in the next room make up songs to sing the periodic table of the elements to. It's not a very good song.
I think they used the Borg queen as the white witch in the Narnia movie. Seems fitting. I do wish they had made Aslan more...well...I just didn't really see the Aslan I saw in the books. It was better than most movies based on books are.
I think I'd rather read my Bible, though.
Have you seen the moon tonight
Sugar-white perfection
With radiant beams of purest white
Our heart's connection
Carries me back to a lullaby
Sweetest song in my memory
Of mama's voice on moonlit nights
To hush her baby
I see the moon
the moon sees me
the moon sees the one that I want to see
God bless the moon
and God bless me
and God bless the one I'm longing to see
Have you ever noticed the man in the moon
he's the master of reflection
Somehow he knows and imitates
my heart's expressions
sometimes he's melting in clouds of tears
or shining my smile like the bright sun
but look tonight the moon looks like
he's missing someone
I see the moon
the moon sees me
the moon sees the one that
I want to see
God bless the moon
God bless me
and God bless the one I'm longing to see.
--Chris Rice
I just wasted so much time typing that here. But I love that song.
The flesh is quite a force to be reckoned with. Sometimes I'm spending so much time on the devil I tend to forget the flesh. Which can be twice as insidious and creeping.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Statement of ...something..
So since there are only about three or four people in the world who will actually read this, I have a feeling I'll be able to be more...real...on here than on xanga. Mayhap. Mayhap I delude myself. Which isn't too far of a stretch.
But any-hoo, my little "hello" post looked lonely. So I thought I'd send it some company.
Here you go, little "hello" post. It was very brave of you to be here all by yourself for three whole hours. I am proud of you.
I love Switchfoot. I didn't buy into the hype at first, but now I own two of their CD's and I love them both.
how's that for real...
But any-hoo, my little "hello" post looked lonely. So I thought I'd send it some company.
Here you go, little "hello" post. It was very brave of you to be here all by yourself for three whole hours. I am proud of you.
I love Switchfoot. I didn't buy into the hype at first, but now I own two of their CD's and I love them both.
how's that for real...
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Hello, world
So now I have a Blog, a xanga, a facebook, and the honors forum.
I'm not gonna get any homework done.
I'm not gonna get any homework done.
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