Beauty

"Beauty will save the world." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"...if the too obvious, too straight branches of Truth and Good are crushed or amputated and cannot reach the light—yet perhaps the whimsical, unpredictable, unexpected branches of Beauty will make their way through and soar up to that very place and in this way perform the work of all three." - Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Media Fast

I am embarking on a 45 day electronic media fast, lasting from November 1st to December 15th. This will coincide with a portion of the Eastern Orthodox Nativity fast. I feel called during this period to refrain from:

TV
movies
the radio
music, with the exception of that which is performed in person
the Internet, excluding school-related research and university email

Because of the appeal for help with Urbana fundraising which I posted, I will continue to check my Yahoo email account in case someone responds, but only for that purpose.

The telephone is permitted, as are newspapers, books, and magazines.

I am engaging in this fast because I feel called to listen during this time, to eliminate distractions and all the things I use to try and fill the emptiness inside of me apart from God. I want to focus on discipline, on giving my attention to the tasks at hand, on doing my duty. So often I try and escape reality through entertainment. I want to be renewed, recreated. I want to look only to God to fill my inner longings and hunger. I want to engage with Him and the people around me. I want to listen. I want to be faithful, not running after idols. I want to end the harlotry of my heart.

Peace

I think that peace can only come from doing one's duty, whatever that may be, and prayerfully commending the rest to God.

Pain

I think that love unexpressed is the greatest pain.

Center

Where is your center? What is your anchor?

Vanity

It is vanity to fear loss of self when my self is in Christ and cannot be lost.

Condiment Hoarder, Oh Dear

Something has happened to me that I could have never foreseen. I have become a condiment hoarder. I have tidy little stacks of saltine crackers in shiny, festive red wrappers that rustle when you touch them, soothingly bland non-dairy creamers, lemon herbal tea bags, and honey packets tucked away. This makes me feel somehow secure.

Oh, dear God, this does not bode well for my future. I am having sudden visions of myself as an elderly woman, feeding too many cats from cupboards stuffed to bursting with tiny jam packets and stale rolls smuggled furtively out of restaurants in an oversized handbag.

Gratitude

Thank you, DayQuil, for giving me back my sense of smell. I missed it.

Urbana

Okay, this isn't my style, but what the hey, I'm gonna put this out there anyway. In the grand tradition of savekaryn.com, I am going to ask for help. I really want to get to InterVarsity's student missions conference, Urbana, this year. I am a poor, working college student. I have paid the $100 registration fee. And that's all I have. This conference, which focuses on such international social justice issues as AIDS and slum communities of the developing world, only happens once every three years. It will cost $350, which includes dinners for December 27th through December 31st. That does not include airfare, a hotel room (which I would likely share with three other women), or breakfast/lunch. I am not a person who usually asks for things, but in this case, I will make an exception. If you are able to financially assist me to make this dream a reality for me, I will accept your help gratefully. If you are interested, please email me (my email address is listed under my profile). If anyone actually responds, I will set up a designated bank account for this purpose and publicly post my progress towards a set amount to be determined upon further research into hotels and air fares. Thank you!

P.S. Unlike Karyn, I have never bought Prada pumps.

All-Nighters

When it comes to college success, I would add that all-nighters are to be avoided at all costs, except that I have never taken that advice.

Proof that Cheyenne is in the Middle of Midterms

I have worn the same clothes for three days in a row. Really. I have OCD. I never do that. It's definitely midterms.

The Homework Grid

One of the best pieces of advice I have ever received about college success was given to me by my step-brother, Josh, who taught me how to use his genius invention, the homework grid. He told me, as I was preparing to start university coursework, "Take a sheet of paper and make yourself a grid. On the left side of the paper, write the days of the week in descending order, Monday through Sunday. On the top of the paper, write the names of your classes left to right in the order in which you attend them. Monday classes come before Tuesday classes, and 9 a.m. classes come before 11 a.m. classes. Put the dates in and make yourself a page for each week of the term. Then, when you receive assignments, write them in on their due dates. Write in tests on the days that they occur. Now you have a visual layout of what is due and when. Every spare scrap of time you have, work on your assignments left-to-right and top-to-bottom. And above all, don't get behind."

This has proven to be a highly effective method of task management, though of course I have gotten behind. I combine the homework grid with weekly time-blocking (wherein activities and tasks are scheduled for blocks of time throughout the day hour by hour on a large weekly grid that shows mealtimes, work times, study times, etc.). I don't follow this perfectly, but it provides a nice idealized structural framework, reassuring me that I do have time for my commitments. And sometimes it is necessary to work, not left-to-right, top-to-bottom, but by priority level. And that's okay. The important thing is to have a handle on what is due and when.

When I have used the homework grid, I have generally done well. And when I haven't... well, I haven't.

By the way, he is Dr. Josh now, so his advice can be trusted.

When I am particularly stressed or lacking motivation, I indulge my inner kindergartner by awarding myself a gold foil star on my calendar for each hour of homework completed.

The other cherished words spoken to me were (prior to an important test about which I was hugely anxious), "Yes, you can do it well." Thank you, Mom. And I did. And I can.

Reflections of a College Senior

Do what is necessary, and maybe a little bit more, but don't try to be a perfect student, or you will just set yourself up for failure. The perfect is the enemy of the good. Cultivate community and nurture your friendships. Learning is a life-long process. Learning how to learn is more important than memorizing facts. Maintain your integrity. Let your voice be heard. Silence can be a virtue. Let your curiosity lead you. Be inspired. Challenge yourself. Discover and nourish your passions. Find a mentor or mentor someone yourself. Befriend a professor. Success is not an "A" - it is doing your best. Don't skip classes - it becomes a downward spiral. Don't decide to give up coffee during midterms week. Facebook is a double-edged sword. You are not majoring in blogging. Get enough sleep, but not too much. Procrastination never pays. Ask questions during lecture, and sit near the front of the classroom. Read your syllabi and refer to them often. If you're having trouble, talk to the professor. It's okay to wear your clothes more than once before washing them. Be persistent. Repetition and practice are powerful allies in establishing good habits. Read as much as you can, but it's okay to skim sometimes. Pray. Enjoy beauty. Find sources of joy. Listen to good music. See some great foreign or arthouse films. Oh, and the homework grid is genius.

Coming Clean

I'm not a vegan anymore. But I'm still a vegetarian who doesn't wear leather or wool. :) And veganism is still on my list of long-range goals. For when I have a kitchen of my own...

Positive Attitude

So there's this thing I've heard a lot about. It's called a "positive attitude." Think I'll give it a try.

Did you know?

Vegetarians save 95 lives a year.

School Spirit

I am not a person who has ever had a great deal of school spirit. In fact, I have hardly had any at all. I don't like sports. I don't understand football. I have never been a fan of our team. I have always begrudged the funds received by the athletic department at the expense of academics. But when the Vandals won the homecoming game last weekend, the whole town was in a better mood, and it was contagious.

And to the girl who threw me the "rock on" sign from the open window of your car while yelling "Go Vandals!"... I was confused at first, until I realized that I was wearing a Vandal tee-shirt emblazoned with our school colors. And then I was surprised - and even happy - to realize that I, too, felt a swell of pride well up in my chest. Thank you. You made my day.

Who knows?... Maybe I'll even go to a game one of these times. There may be a little silver and gold in these veins after all.

Alert Clocks

Why are alarm clocks called alarm clocks? They should be called alert clocks. I don't want to be alarmed when I wake up in the morning, I want to be alert.

As my mother always says...

Don't be a don't be, be a do be!

Jerk

Have you ever noticed how, when you've been a big jerk, and people are nice to you about it, it makes you feel like an even bigger jerk? Yeah, see my previous post. It explains everything.

Pedestrian Rage

Let me preface this story by assuring you, the reader, that I don't just go around flipping people off. In fact, I have flipped off drivers only twice in my entire life. That's two times too many, of course, but road rage - or in this case, pedestrian rage - is extremely uncharacteristic for me. In general, I consider myself to be a peaceful person who tries to give others the benefit of the doubt.

But tonight was a different story. I was walking to the store on our local bicycle path in the darkness of the night when I came to a crosswalk near a busy intersection. I waited for an opening in the traffic, and when it looked like there was ample time for me to cross, I started walking. When I was halfway across the street, a pair of headlights suddenly veered towards me at top speed, forcing me to stop and almost hitting me. In a burst of anger accompanied instantly by guilt, I cursed the car and flipped the driver off. A second too late, I recognized the car. The driver looked familiar, too. Yes, in a town with a population of more than 22,000, it was my mother.

The car slowed and came to a stop. A little afraid, not knowing what to do, I kept on walking. After a minute, she drove away. Overwhelmed by remorse, I reversed my course and headed home to make the phone call. My sister answered my mother's cell.

"Uh, did you just have an unusual traffic incident?" I asked, just to be sure.

"Yes," she said. She sounded surprised.

"Can I talk to Mom?"

"Okay." She handed the phone to my mother.

"Uh, um... Mom? Did I just flip you off?"

"Yes," she said.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry. I don't normally do things like that. I'm so sorry." The words came pouring out of me in shame.

I thought she'd be angry, but she just seemed amused. She actually laughed, intensifying my mortification. "That's okay. It didn't hurt my feelings any. But you really shouldn't wear black when you walk alone at night. I couldn't see you in the darkness, and if you hadn't stopped, I would have hit you for sure." My wonderful mother - so undeserving of disrespect - was more concerned for my safety than anything else.

After listening to more apologizing, she finally stopped me. "Stop saying you're sorry. It's okay. I forgive you. Do you still need to go to the store? I'll give you a ride."

The moral of the story is... don't flip people off. They just might turn out to be your mother.

P.S. She's actually a really good driver.

Fairy Tales

I'll admit that sometimes I long to be part of a fairy tale story. I want to be rescued, swept up out of the mire of my ordinary life, loved passionately, made into a princess. I have always been fascinated with fairy tales, but am well aware that they have been criticized by some in our society who believe that they undermine girls' belief in their self-sufficiency and their instinct for self-determination. They reinforce an unrealistic idealism, promote a passive approach to life, prevent us from fashioning our own stories. We ought to rescue ourselves - if, indeed, we need to be rescued at all.

Still, fairy tales endure in all their grim beauty.

I think that's because there is something in us that responds to these archetypal patterns of distress, rescue, transformation.

And it occurs to me that I am taking part in a fairy tale story. But it is not some handsome stranger who has come to me, it is the Prince of Peace himself.

Listen

Sometimes I think how much simpler it would be if I could hear Him speak audibly, how much less difficult. I cry out, "God, why can't I hear you? Please, speak to me." And in the silence is the reply. He forces us to listen, ever more intently, with our hearts.

Broken Whole

We are flawed and broken beings, but we also have the capacity to be healed, to be whole. And therein lies the miracle.

Forgiveness

I don't believe that forgiveness is necessarily a forgetting, but it is a ceasing to continually remind.

Engage

It occurred to me tonight while I was smoking a cigarette that when we self-medicate, we essentially withdraw from God's presence and from His reaching out to heal our wounds. We try to fill the void ourselves. There are many things I do to escape from an often painful reality: sleep excessively or not enough, smoke, overeat, seek entertainment when there are pressing tasks at hand. But the solution is not to escape from the threat of despair, but to engage. It is easy to forget how many people there are working to make the world a better place. We will never achieve utopia (literally "no place") or fully eradicate suffering, but we can still reach people with kindness and positive action. We can still tend to the Creation. We can still offer our hearts and lives to Him for restoration and renewal. We live in a fallen world, but it is also a beautiful one. And ultimately, Reality is His domain. Hope lives.

Paradox

I am beginning to understand that it is not freedom that my soul craves, but discipline.

And it is only in labor that I will find rest.

And it is only in bondage to Christ that I will find liberation.

To be one of the mad ones...

"...the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."

--Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Reflections Upon an All-Night Paper-Writing Session

1. Old library books are dirty and yucky.
2. Literary criticism by male academics authoring books published in the 1960s on famous women poets of the 17th century makes me want to go join the National Organization for Women.
3. Bobby pins are a girl's best friend.
4. I ♥ Hillary exceedingly much.
5. Exceedingly is a fun word to use when you are sleep-deprived.
6. One should not stay up until 6 a.m. writing a paper only to sleep through the class in which the paper is due after deciding, "I'll just get a couple hours of sleep."

The Gospel in a Nutshell

I love the way Jeremiah sums up the gospel. He says, "Basically, Jesus told death to stick it."

Greyhound Bus

Every time I see the Greyhound bus pass through our local bus depot, I have this wild urge to fling caution and convention to the wind, run up those few short steps, and settle into a seat. I almost don't care where the Greyhound is going, I just want to get on board. Sometimes, when I know that bus would carry me to Portland, it's all I can do to keep my legs marching forward. I think heaven might be a knapsack packed with a few bare essentials, a journal, a good book or two, and a bus/amtrak ticket. I could tour the countryside, have conversations with a hundred random strangers, drink a thousand cups of coffee, each brewed by different hands, and wake to a sunrise on a different horizon every morning.

I love my little town. Really, I do. Still, this strange, sweet longing stirs within me every time I pass a Greyhound bus.

An Inconvenient Truth

See it. As soon as possible. Just resist the urge to hurl yourself over the edge of a melting ice cap afterwards.

all the trees of the field will clap their hands

by Sufjan Stevens

If I am alive this time next year,
will I have arrived in time to share?
Mine is about as good this far.
I'm still applied to what you are.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you.

I heard from the trees a great parade.
And I heard from the hills a band was made.
Will I be invited to the sound?
Will I be a part of what you've made?
And I am throwing all my thoughts away.
And I'm destroying every bet I've made.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you.

This is the song that helped to pull me back from the edges of the abyss during a faith crisis in which I was raging at God.

Read It

Read Blue Like Jazz. Immediately. Do it.

Russian Dolls

Last night I watched a film titled Russian Dolls. It realistically portrays the relationships of several friends approaching their thirties. We see the characters reaching out, longing for connection, searching for sexual fulfillment, suffering the heartache of loneliness. We see one struggling with single parenthood, one with her lesbian identity within the context of a judgmental society. We see one's feeling of conquest and power in capturing the attention of that desired, attractive (but so wrong for him) other. We see one's stark terror at making the commitment of marriage. We see the friction and hostility of a long-married couple. All of this is contrasted against our culture's literary tradition of fairy tales, romantic novels, and screenplays that promote the idea of "The One" and perpetually provide us with happy endings. Several times characters chide each other for having unrealistically high expectations for an idealized person who doesn't exist. Nevertheless, the characters continue steadfastly in their searches.

The film's narrator and protagonist muses towards the end of the film that (serially monogamous) relationships are like a series of nesting Russian dolls. You carefully open each doll, explore the space within, wondering "Is this it? Is this the one? The last?" Eventually, when you realize it isn't, it gets cast aside, discarded, and you open the next, hoping it will be that tiny, perfect one in the center, the one you've been waiting for, searching for.

At the end of the film, you see a formerly estranged, reconciled couple happily following each other down a subway escalator. A large sign above them says "Sortie." The ending seems to suggest that relationship is an exit or way out (of loneliness, perhaps?) but also a descent.

Hobbled

Why do we women purposefully hobble ourselves in the pursuit of beauty? I am wearing stiletto heels today, and even I don't fully understand why I find this necessary, but slight wobbling aside, I automatically feel more feminine in them.

We do this in so many ways: with eating disorders, with cosmetic surgery, with excessive exercising, with restrictive fashions, with unprotected sex and tolerance of abusive relationships...

I recognize that at times I am knowingly hobbling myself by not getting enough sleep, by not eating right, by not wearing warm enough clothing in cold weather, by giving in to OCD.

What is the cause of this self-destructive urge?

Why do we feel we must alter ourselves so drastically in order to feel worthwhile and loveable?

And why does society applaud us for our self-control and discipline when our obsessions with achievement and appearance take a destructive turn?

So Beautiful

A House of Gold

Song lyrics by Hank Williams

Some people steal, they cheat and lie
For wealth and what it will buy
But don't they know on the Judgement Day
That gold and silver will melt away

I'd rather be in a deep, dark grave
And know that my poor soul was saved
Than to live in this world in a house of gold
And deny my God and doom my soul

What good is gold and silver, too
If your heart's not pure and true?
Oh sinner, hear me when I say,
Fall down on your knees and pray

I'd rather be in a deep, dark grave
And know that my poor soul was saved
Than to live in this world in a house of gold
And deny my God and lose my soul

I think the most beautiful rendition of this song is as sung by Tim O'Brien and Darrell Scott.

I'm blue (da ba dee)

So, I'm not usually down with the whole "blogthings" concept of taking random quizzes about things like what sort of espresso drink you would be (I'm a soy latté, by the way) and posting the results on your blog, but...

I just took this personality quiz at The Color Code, and I'm a "blue."

BLUES are motivated by INTIMACY. They seek to genuinely connect with others, and need to be understood and appreciated. Everything they do is quality-based. They are loyal friends, employers, and employees. Whatever or whomever they commit to is their sole (and soul) focus. They love to serve and give themselves freely in order to nurture others' lives.

BLUES have distinct preferences and have the most controlling personality. Their personal code of ethics is remarkably strong and they expect others to live honest, committed lives as well. They enjoy meaningful moments in conversation as well as paying close attention to special life events (e.g. birthdays and anniversaries). BLUES are dependable, thoughtful, and analytical; but can also be self-righteous, worry-prone, and moody. They are "sainted pit-bulls" who never let go of something or someone, once they are committed. When you deal with a BLUE, be sincere and make a genuine effort to understand and appreciate them.

The phrase "sainted pit-bull" struck me, because I have been described both as saintly (yes, haha, it's true) and as a pit-bull with a "mind like a steel trap."

The other possibilities were red (motivated by power), white (motivated by peace), and yellow (motivated by fun).

Proverbs 24:11

“Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter." (NIV)

A Bore

"A bore is a man who deprives you of solitude without providing you with company."

--Gian Vincenzo Gravina

Sudoku-Inspired Stupor

Today in a campus coffee shop, I saw a guy sitting at a nearby table staring dimly into space, glassy-eyed, seemingly transfixed on some elusive mental operation incomprehensible to anyone else. I wondered vaguely what was the cause of his dazed expression. And then I saw it: held loosely in his open palms was a book of sudoku puzzles.

I'm with you, man, I'm with you.

Readers and Writers

A journey of a thousand pages begins with a single sentence.

A Prayer

Let my faith and values build in me a framework of strength that I may act with conscience in a time of testing, but let me not wrap myself so tightly with comfortable ideology that I fail to seek or to see truth.

Check It, Yo

Would ending his life be okay? Can you pinpoint the precise moment he became a human being?

Calling All Political Candidates

We need people who...

Will protect our planet by advocating for/enacting strict environmental-protection laws
Will strenthen social service programs and education
Will eliminate tax breaks for the wealthy
Will reduce our dependance on foreign oil and explore alternative fuel sources
Don't have a vested economic interest in waging war
Will consider increasing the minimum wage to a living wage
Can see beyond walls around our borders
Will support equal rights for gays and lesbians
Are committed to sustainable agricultural practices, including organic farming, and who will help to enact a ban on irradiated and genetically engineered foods
Will work to halt animal cruelty, including factory farming, the fur/leather industries, and animal testing
Will promote reproductive health education that factually discusses birth control options and provides condoms while at the same time emphasizing abstinence as a viable and doable choice (Duh! it doesn't have to be either/or!)
Will support and protect LIFE across the board, which means no death penalty, no abortion (even in cases of rape and incest), no animal cruelty, no doctor-assisted suicide, an end to genocide
Will work for nationally-mandated maternity and paternity benefits (paid parental leave plans, for example) like many European countries have
Will recognize the rights of sovereign Native peoples to retain and control their ancestral lands and sacred sites

Quote of the Month

"The Sun is still shining."

--Sophia Scholl, Nazi resistor and Christian martyr, speaking her last words on her way to the guillotine

O, the Joy!

The intersection of possibly my two most favorite things to contemplate, learn about, explore, and practice...

A compiled list of blogs having to do with vegan knitting and crocheting.

Oh, and by the way...

Stacy and Clinton of What Not to Wear, can't you see this is a desperate cry for help?

in which our blogger realizes...

that her almost-sole motivation for trying to be Good is the hope of someday being Loved

that such Selfishness cancels out any Goodness that might be in her

that she cannot conceive of anyone Loving her unless she is first Good

because she does not herself Love anyone whom she does not perceive to be at least partly Good

that she feels like giving up because she is not Loved even though she feels she has been sufficiently Patient and Good to be Worthy

which might indicate a Great and Terrible Arrogance

and that her idea of what is Good may not be shared by anyone Else

that she could Almost be talked into the idea that seeking for Truth is futile because the only Truth is that there is no Truth because Truth is essentially unknowable

that if she actually believed that she would curl up and Die

because what else is there for someone who is not Loved but the hope of Truth?

but if The Truth is that there is No Truth, and she is unwilling to believe in No Truth, then is she actually seeking Real Truth?

but if Truth is essentially unknowable, then neither can it be known that there is No Truth

that she is tired of praying for Love prayers which never seem to be answered and that she cannot Love the Source of Love because it is intangible and she cannot Love Intangibility

that perhaps a desire for Love is in itself a form of Goodness

and that she cannot help but pray to the Source of Love for forgiveness for wanting Love more than Goodness and for wanting to rebel for not being Loved and for not loving the Source of Love

Siren Song

Last night I heard the most enchanting music emanating from the frozen dairy case. Having carefully steered away from the dangerous waters of that particular island for days on end, this time I was drawn irresistably towards it, and before I knew it, I was inexplicably swept into the treacherous current of the checkout line. Yes, I bought and consumed a pint of ice cream. Its siren song was hauntingly bittersweet while it lasted, and then it vanished, leaving me shipwrecked upon the rocks of guilt and indigestion.

I fell spectacularly from grace on both the vegan and sugar-free fronts.

Still, I am resolved to reset my compass, patch my sails, and carry on with my sugar-free, vegan journey.

How Not to Write a Semester Paper

Do not complete the paper by the date that it is due. Request an incomplete in the course. Tell the professor that you will have the paper completed by the end of the following semester. When that date arrives, request an extension of one more semester. Wait until the week that grades for incompletes are due according to the university catalog. Two days prior to the specified completion date, ineffectually shuffle some papers around and briefly scan the requirements. The day before the paper is due, go to the library only to find out that it is closing early. Decide to see a movie. Accept a friend's offer to give you a wake-up call in the early morning so that you can devote 12 hours to the writing of the paper on the day that it is due. Stay up until 5 a.m. drinking beer and watching VH1. When your friend calls, thank her and go back to bed. Get to the library 10 hours before the paper is due. Spend the first five hours writing the first three pages. Panic as you consider the possibility that you may not complete the paper on time. Ponder the consequences for the graduate school career you are no longer sure that you'll have. Feel guilty for being such a terrible student and for taking advantage of the professor's goodwill. Wonder why you are being so self-destructive. Tell yourself, "I will never do this again."

Democracy

I think it's imperative that each person have one vote in a democratic political system, but in an increasingly corporation-driven world, I believe we vote more with our dollars than with our ballots, and some people just have more votes than others. Which is one reason why a true democracy can never exist.

My Feeling Exactly

"Now I can look at you in peace; I don't eat you any more."
-Franz Kafka

Metromint

It's the greatest. Don't ever change, Metromint!

Point/Counterpoint

Point:

"The Myths of Vegetarianism" by Stephen Byrnes

Counterpoint:

A Response to "The Myths of Vegetarianism"

What do you think?

Beauty Boot Camp, Lesson #9

Don't eat, use or wear animal products. Don't use cosmetics or household products that were tested on animals. Compassion is always beautiful.

To all you vegan non-soy-eating coffee lovers out there...

I've read that coconut milk and coconut cream are delicious substitutes for milk or half and half in coffee. I will try it and keep you posted. ("Posted," haha - no pun intended!)

Compassionate, Healthy Eating

So, here's my new diet plan:

As of June 22, I don't eat sugar.
As of today, I am a vegan.

Wanna know why?

Check out The Sugar Blues by William Dufty. Also check out Vegan Vittles: Recipes Inspired by the Critters of Farm Sanctuary by Joanne Stepaniak, peta.com, peta2.com, and veganoutreach.org.

I am striving to eat mainly whole foods rather than processed ones.

Because I have an autoimmune thyroid disease, I am limiting my intake of goitrogens such as soy, textured vegetable protein, peanuts, millet, and cruciferous vegetables (yeah, this is going to be a little challenging on a vegan diet). Fortunately, soy and TVP will be okay in small amounts, cooking cruciferous vegetables reduces their goitrogenic effect, femented soy products like miso are fine, and I was never a big fan of peanuts or millet anyway. The addition of iodine (plentiful in iodized salt and sea vegetables) to a diet helps reduce the goitrogenic effects of these foods as well.

I am working towards total elimination of artificial sweeteners. (I am too weak to throw out perfectly good packs of gum!)

Because their effects on the body are similar to sugar, I am limiting my intake of refined carbohydrates like polished rice, pasta and white bread. And since I may have a sensitivity to wheat, I am going to try not to overconsume that either.

So "what's left to eat?" you ask. Well, vegetables, of course! And a variety of whole grains, legumes, and fruits.

Here's to a whole new way of relating to food and to animals (which are, for me, no longer the same things) and to my body. Here's to sitting down to meals with a clear conscience and a feeling of peace. Here's to no longer feeling the strange and painful contradiction between laboring with love for hours to save a wounded fledgling swallow while knowing that, if it were a chicken, I would eat it. Here's to learning how to prepare delicious, healthful, gourmet vegan meals!

P.S. To Kelsey, thank you for loving and not judging me even when I was eating meat right in front of you. I strive to follow your example.

Trying to figure out what to rent?

Try one of these:

Smoke Signals
The Last Unicorn
The Girl in the Café
Walk the Line
Amélie
French Kiss
City of Angels
The Family Stone
Signs
Catch Me If You Can
The Pianist
The Count of Monte Cristo
Finding Neverland
Lord of the Rings
The Princess Bride
A Knight's Tale
The Royal Tenenbaums
Dead Man Walking
The Wedding Singer
Ever After
Houskeeping
School of Rock
Jesus (the version made in 1979)
Love Comes Softly
Love's Enduring Promise
Sense and Sensibility
Emma
Adventures in Babysitting
Benny and Joon
The Journey of Natty Gann
The Aviator
Miracle on 34th Street
Anne of Green Gables (the TV mini-series)
The Chronicles of Narnia
Cold Comfort Farm
The Full Monty
Kinky Boots
Dear Frankie
Strawberry & Chocolate
Duck Season
Sophie Scholl: The Final Days
Little Miss Sunshine

Wal-Mart

I don't believe in shopping at Wal-Mart. I opposed Wal-Mart's efforts to build a Supercenter in our area. Still, I shop at Wal-Mart. I'm a big, fat Wal-Mart hypocrite. The wonderful thing about being a Wal-Mart hypocrite, however, is that you never have to worry about running into others who are anti-Wal-Mart while shopping at Wal-Mart. And if you do, you know that they are Wal-Mart hypocrites, too!

Pet Peeve of the Day

When you're in a restaurant or cafeteria and the server or person making your sandwich asks, "white or wheat?" Although white bread may have the nutritional value of sawdust (minus the fiber), it still originates from wheat. Jeeez. A better question would be "whole-grain or refined flour?" - or perhaps simply, "white bread or brown?" Thanks for the sandwich, though.

Better Living through Chemistry

Remedy for depression, anxiety, and/or job stress:

Vent to a good friend or trusted family member
Take a brisk walk, preferably through an area with natural beauty; it's a bonus if it rains
Listen to songs from U2's Joshua Tree or Bonnie Raitt's Longing in Their Hearts or Jars of Clay's self-titled debut album or Sufjan Stevens's Seven Swans
Take a long, hot shower - lather up and sing, "I'm gonna wash that [man, job, coworker, customer, family member, day, or whatever] right outta my hair..."
Get dressed in something you feel good in
Eat a Boca vegan burger, potatoes, salad, and vegetables
Drink plenty of ice water, preferably from a pretty glass
Drink coffee
Drink a double gin-and-tonic
Have a fan blowing and scent the air with a soothing home fragrance
Take a nap or go to bed early and get a good night's sleep OR read something or watch a movie that will either make you laugh or make you cry

Alternatively, you could kick a rock really, really hard. Make sure it's small enough that you don't stub your toe. Repeat as many times as necessary.

Or you could "put de lime in de coconut, drink 'em both up..."

P.S.

There's probably something seriously wrong with me for furiously licking the sugar granules from the bottom of the bag even though I've vowed to go sugar-free.

Sugar

There's something seriously wrong with the state of the food supply when a bag of potato chips has more sugar than salt. (Yes, little bag of potato chips, you are my chosen microcosm for the day.) What's next? Sugar-coated popcorn? Oh, wait. That's already been done.

Freedom from Fear

By Elisabeth Elliot
Taken from A Lamp for My Feet

There is a sense in which every form of fear is essentially the fear of death. Jesus came to deliver us from that in all its forms. "He became a human being so that by going through death as a man he might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the devil; and might also set free those who lived their whole lives a prey to the fear of death" (Heb 2:14,15 JBP).

I know people whose lives are totally controlled by fear. There is no bondage more powerful and crippling. Fear takes over the mind, coercing and circumscribing all its activity. We know where that spirit of fear originates, and we know the name of the enemy who would hold us enslaved. In the name of our God we must tread down our enemies, including all the nagging "what ifs" of our lives. To those frightening possibilities Christ answers, "I will never leave you or forsake you." Let the very worst thing come to pass--even there, especially there, his hand will hold us. If we go into darkness, He is there, has been there before us, has conquered all its powers. That's why He became a man. That's why He died. That's why He rose again.

My Lord and my God--forgive my fears. Deliver me from bondage by the power of your resurrection.

The Fear of Loss

By Elisabeth Elliot
Taken from A Lamp for My Feet

In C.S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters we see with startling clarity the cleverness of the enemy in deceiving human beings.

Selfishness has a thousand forms, most of which we are slow to recognize for what they are. I was thinking about the fear of loss and what a stranglehold it can have on me. As I listed some of the things I dreaded to lose, it occurred to me that this fear is a deadly form of selfishness. Selfishness does terrible things to us, but it does not stop there. It does terrible things to others. "Saving our own skin" usually results in skinning somebody else. Think, for example, of the fear of losing: reputation, opportunity for advancement, credit, recognition, position, beauty, youth, health, money, the love of friends or children, compliments, popularity, security, privacy, rights, people you love, job, home, dreams, power.

As I considered each of these separately, I began to think what sort of sin each kind of loss tempts me to commit. Then I thought about what kind of faith is required to enable me to commit those fears to God. Has He, in fact, made provision for these things? The list is not a list of sins--make no mistake about that. It is a list of blessings, of gifts from God. But to grasp them selfishly and greedily, to hang onto them fiercely and allow myself to be enslaved by the fear of losing them, is to deny Christ. Do not fear, He says to us. I am with you.

An Encircled Shield

By Elisabeth Elliot
Taken from A Lamp for My Feet

We wake in the early dark and find ourselves the targets of many fiery darts of fear. We may think we are on guard, and suddenly a dart comes at us from an unexpected angle. We can't cover all the possibilities. We dodge and duck, but some of the fears get to us--unless we take refuge in the Lord. The psalmist calls Him "my encircling shield, my glory." No need to stare into the darkness, allowing our imaginations to torment us with the "what ifs"--"Now I can lie down and go to sleep and then awake, for the Lord has hold of me" (Ps 3:3,5 JB).

Fear God and Fear Nothing Else

By Elisabeth Elliot
Taken from A Lamp for My Feet

The world is shaking with fear. "What will become of us? Where will it all end? What if Russia...? What if cancer...? What if expression...?" The love of God has wrapped us round from before the foundations of the world. If we fear Him--that is, if we are brought to our knees before Him, reverence and worship Him in absolute assurance of his sovereignty, we cannot possibly be afraid of anything else. To love God is to destroy all other fear. To love the world is to be afraid of everything--what it may think of me, what it may do to me, what may happen today or tomorrow for which I am not prepared.

"The Lord is the stronghold of my life--of whom shall I be afraid?" (Ps 27:1 RSV).

And yet, Lord, the truth is that I am often afraid. I confess it. All the weight of your promises seems sometimes to be only a feather, and the weight of my fears is lead. Reverse that, Lord, I pray. Give me the healthy fear that will make light of all the others--"The fear of the Lord is life; he who is full of it will rest untouched by evil" (Prv 19:23 NEB).

I Will Not Be Afraid

By Elisabeth Elliot
Taken from A Lamp for My Feet

News reports come every day concerning economic and political calamities about to befall us all, not to mention famines, tornadoes, earthquakes, and volcanoes, things which may at any moment strike us or people we love. There are always plenty of good reasons to be afraid--unless you know that things are under control. A Christian has this "inside information." Things are, in fact, under control. God is our Refuge, our Strength, our Mighty Fortress. Nothing will get by the moat of his protection without his permission. To be afraid of what happens today or what may happen tomorrow is not only an awful waste of energy, it is not only useless, it is disobedient. We are forbidden to fear anything but the Lord Himself.

When Christians in China were being hounded to death in the 1930s, one of them (I am told) wrote this simple song, which has helped me in countless times of fear ever since I learned it as a high school girl:

I will not be afraid.
I will not be afraid.
I will look upward, and travel onward,
And not be afraid.

Will power, of course, will not always overcome human emotions. But willed obedience to the One who is in charge, coupled with prayer for his help in vanquishing our natural fears, is something else.

Inspiration from a Paper Cup

Starbucks "The Way I See It #135"

Wrangling fear is the biggest challenge the world faces now and the challenge we all face, now and again, at our crossroads, in the dark moments, at those times we are asked to compromise, at those times when we know deep down that we must revolutionize our own lives.

-- Holly Morris
Author of Adventure Divas: Searching the Globe for a New Kind of Heroine

666

I never thought that "666" would end up being the title of one of my posts, but I find it vaguely creepy that today is 6/06/06. Not that I'm superstitious or anything.

Beware the Gryphon

(Illustration by John Tenniel for Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)

Sweet little bumble bee...

I know what you want from me.
Sweet little bumble bee
More than just a fantasy...

DDR, what have you done to me?

Dup-i-dup-i-do la la
Dup-i-dup-i-do la da...

Throwing the Goat to the Blog

Thanks to a loyal reader for submitting this pic she entitled "Throwing the goat" to The Blog.

I Have a Problem

It's time for me to admit it: I have a problem.

I've tried to hide it for a long time. I've denied it, I've lied to myself and others, I've refused to acknowledge the depths to which I've been willing to sink to get a fix... I've even taken directly from the hands of my loved ones to stave off withdrawal.

I've whined and wheedled and pleaded and made promises I had no intention of keeping.

It's time to make amends.

Bon, I will never again ask if I can use your lip gloss. Hillary, I'm sorry for every time I dipped into your peach flavored beeswax balm. Mom, for all the lipsticks I've ever "borrowed"... forgive me. Tell me how I can make it up to you.

I'm taking it one day at a time. Easy does it. Progress, not perfection. I can stop using "just for today." I've narrowed my stash to one simple, utilitarian chapstick - it's pink and cherry flavored, but other than that, it's plain and no-frills. Gone are the glittered glosses, the shiny lipslicks, the buttery balms...

With the help of my higher power, the support of my friends, and Lip Balm Anonymous, I believe I can beat this hidden addiction that affects the lives of so many...

I ♥ my new pink Converse shoes with embroidered flowers!

A Prayer

God, break my addiction to anything but you.

Please be my only addiction.

Not to get all political, but...

Every time I pick up the newspaper and read about the exploits of our fair president and his administration, I think wow, it just can't get any worse than this. Bush sucks.

So you want to be an evangelist...

Live simply, love generously, care deeply, speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.

I don't know who said it, but I think it's good advice.

Hillary

Your shoes are like WHOA.

Dr. Bronner's Magic Soaps

They're simply magical! Dr. Bronner passed away in 1997, but his family continues to carry on his legacy. The labels make for fantastical reading material. The peppermint pure-castile liquid is my favorite.

Aubrey Organics

I adore this company. Their products are all-natural, organic, and compassionate (not tested on animals). And most - if not all - are vegan. I read this book when I was a teenager, and it was fantastic. I am convinced that using this cleanser, this astringent, this mask and scrub, and this clear skin complex kept my skin free from breakouts when I was younger.

Oh, and if you have dry skin, there's nothing like this moisturizer.

They're expensive, though, so to be honest, I don't use these products much anymore.

But, dear reader, I highly recommend them if you have the money, want to splurge on a luxury item, become a celebrity, or wish to send a gift to this blogger...

Replaceable You

Dear Irish Spring,

I have loved you for a long time - we have a long history together. I remember seeing the singing man showering in your TV ads when I was a little girl. He always seemed so happy, so clean, so carefree, so... in love. My mom bought budget brands so I didn't really get to know you until later, when you were my first boyfriend's favorite soap. I loved the zesty fresh smell of you when he leaned in to kiss me. I think I loved you almost as much as I loved his Mitchum Sport antiperspirant/deodorant. Your invigorating scent gave him the zing that he needed to get up and get going in the morning (he had the misfortune of not being a coffee drinker). After we broke up, I went a long time without seeing you. I missed you sometimes, but I was mostly able to put you out of my mind.

We rekindled our romance several months ago. I needed soap, and you were the only brand available in the campus market. I didn't realize that once we became close again, it would be so difficult to stop seeing you. You were irresistible - your spring-green color, your texture and foam, that unforgettable scent... I kept buying you, even when I had other options, even though you were outrageously priced. Little did I know that you would end up costing me far more than I ever imagined.

Dry skin. Flaky skin. Red skin. Irritated skin.

I know it wasn't entirely your fault. I used you in ways I shouldn't have, like the time I ran out of shampoo. You were all I had, so I turned to you, and you were there for me in my time of need. I took a deep breath, lathered up, and ran you through my hair. I know it was wrong, but it felt so right at the time. I didn't know you would rob me of my curls and strip away all my moisture and shine. I vowed that it would never happen again...

And I know you weren't designed to be a facial cleanser, especially not for sensitive skin, but you were just so convenient. I believed in a monogamous relationship. I didn't want to see anyone else. I thought it would be okay. I should have known better.

I guess this is my way of saying, "It's not you. It's me." I just don't think we're right for each other. I've met someone, and I think it's really going to work this time. I've fallen for an exfoliating cleansing gel with moisture beads. And my extra gentle 2-in-1 shampoo+conditioner with a burst of strawberry knows how to treat a girl's hair right. I'm sorry. I don't know how to tell you this, but I think it's time we let each other go.

Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I wish you all the best for the future.

Goodbye, dear Irish Spring, goodbye...

Shakira, Shakira

"Shakira is a weapon of mass destruction," I overheard someone at a nearby dinner table say. While I'm waiting for military intelligence to discover her, I'll ponder what exactly she means by "hips don't lie."

Ugh

Today, I woke up to James Blunt's "You're Beautiful" being played by one of my neighbors in an adjacent room. Full-blast. So loud that the walls of my room were shaking. On repeat. Three times.

Get better taste in music, people.

Strawberry Ice Cream

So I skipped the whole pretending-it-doesn't-hurt thing and went straight to the wallowing part, complete with strawberry ice cream. It worked. I feel better. I was never more than slightly bruised in the first place.

You Win

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Pretty dang crappy," said I.

"What happened?"

"Oh... you know. Just... guess I'd rather not talk about it."

"Bet it wasn't as bad as my weekend."

"Bet it comes close." Why did I say it? What possessed me? Can I have a do-over please?

"Two of my friends died."

Oh.

You win.

Dude, I'm sorry.

On Second Thought

After several viewings, I have decided that Prince's "Black Sweat" video is actually quite riveting. Partly because it's subtly humourous (watch his facial expressions). The music ain't so bad either, I guess.

I Wish I Knew How to Quit You, Matisyahu

I am fascinated with Matisyahu. Hasidic Jewish reggae. Yes, you heard me. Hasidic Jewish reggae. With a fusion of rap and beatboxing. Mesmerizing.

More here, here, and here.

Interesting

This conversation, which I am having with this guy.

Try

It doesn't matter whether you succeed or fail, so long as you try.

If I actually lived my life that way, how different it would be! How often have I failed to try for fear of not succeeding.

Some Thoughts on Suffering

If no one ever suffered, we would never be compelled to help one another. If we never experienced suffering, would we ever have reason to turn to God for comfort, or struggle to learn to trust him, or desire to grow closer to his heart? Without suffering, there would never be true appreciation of real joy. Without suffering, we would never understand the reality that we live in a fallen world, that we are touched by sin, and that we need God; we would be like spoiled children unaware of anything outside our own comfort and ease.

The Stone Table

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan.... Have you forgotten the laws on which Narnia was built?... Then you’ll remember well that every traitor belongs to me. His blood is my property.... Unless I have blood, as the Law demands, all Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water." - the White Witch, accusing Edmund

"She has renounced her claim on the Son of Adam’s blood!" - Aslan, having agreed to sacrifice his life as a ransom for Edmund's

"Did you really think that by all this you could save the human traitor? You are giving me your life and saving no one. So much for love. Tonight the Deep Magic will be appeased, but tomorrow we will take Narnia forever! In that knowledge, despair... and die!" - the White Witch, moments before Aslan's death

"If the witch knew the true meaning of sacrifice, she might have interpreted the Deep Magic a little differently. When a willing victim who has committed no treachery is killed in a traitor’s stead, the Stone Table would crack and even Death itself would turn backwards." - Aslan, after his resurrection

- from the film The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Worms

I love the rain, but the worm carcasses on the sidewalks are really starting to depress me. Poor little guys.

It Sucks

It sucks when your boyfriend keeps telling you how beautiful he thinks your sister is.

It sucks when you really like a guy (not the boyfriend, who you've broken up with long ago), and he seems to like you too, and then you find out that he actually likes your sister, who has an easy-going, flirtatious personality and looks like a model.

It sucks when you like a different guy, and after spending hours hanging out together (because he "loves talking to you" and "you're a great listener"), he asks you if you will ask out your sister for him (the one who looks like a model, who he's never actually spoken to).

And it really sucks when the guy you like likes your sister and all you can think is déjà vu.

Don't

Don't eat an entire bag of Sour Patch Kids or Jolly Rancher Screaming Sours by sucking on each individual piece of candy until it disappears. Lemme tell you, it'll really do a number on your tongue.

Chopsticks

If you are eating with chopsticks and you are feeling really awkward because you don't really know how but you are doing your best but you are still really messy and your dining companions are looking at you funny, you shouldn't feel bad at all. You should embrace the messiness and just enjoy and not worry about what anyone thinks.

Don't apologize! You don't need to be sorry. You are still a good person even if you don't feel comfortable eating with chopsticks.

Chopsticks are good to wear in your hair.

Daylight Saving Time

It's just stupid.

We already have plenty of daylight in the summer. When we really need that extra hour of evening sunlight is in the winter, when the days are depressingly short anyway.

In the fall, when daylight saving time ends and a change is made back to standard time, the sun sets an hour earlier each day. So in the winter, instead of getting dark at six, for example, it gets dark at five - cheerful, isn't it? [note the heavy sarcasm]

The lost hour of sleep in the spring causes a rise in traffic accidents following the change; there is a corresponding cost in human lives.

People with sleep disorders find the time changes disruptive to their schedules and very difficult to adjust to.

International time zones are not synchronized with respect to daylight saving time. Even within the United States and its territories, there are differences in observance.

Frankly, it's just plain confusing.

I like what this writer had to say in 1947: "I don't really care how time is reckoned so long as there is some agreement about it, but I object to being told that I am saving daylight when my reason tells me that I am doing nothing of the kind. I even object to the implication that I am wasting something valuable if I stay in bed after the sun has risen. As an admirer of moonlight I resent the bossy insistence of those who want to reduce my time for enjoying it. At the back of the Daylight Saving scheme I detect the bony, blue-fingered hand of Puritanism, eager to push people into bed earlier, and get them up earlier, to make them healthy, wealthy and wise in spite of themselves." (Robertson Davies, The Diary of Samuel Marchbanks, 1947, XIX, Sunday.)

If we are to observe daylight saving time, why not reverse the time shift? It would make a whole lot more sense to "fall forward" and "spring back."

I understand that we currently "fall back" because the energy conservation advantage of daylight saving time is lost in winter months with the need for early morning lighting due to the later sunrise. So rather than ripping a conceptual hole in the fabric of time, why not wait until the sun rises to get up? Why not change the starting times of our businesess and schools rather than the clock? Are we trying to beat even the farmers? (Morning people, you conspirators, you!) Our entire schedules are organized - not around the natural rhythms of the earth and our bodies - but around an artificial construct imposed by the abstraction of time.

Do you ever wonder where that hour goes in the spring when the clock magically flips from 1:59 a.m. to 3:00 a.m.? I think it goes in my sock drawer to be stored until that time in the fall when the hour is retrieved and the clock flips from 1:59 a.m. back to 1:00 a.m.

Smitten

I'm smitten with Smitten.

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens...

These are a few of my current favorite things:

hugs from Kelsey
visiting Hillary on Campbell Hall
the Ag-Sci lounge (shhhh... don't tell anybody!)
dinner with my mom at Bob's
"studying" with my Medieval Lit. study partner
eating Doritos and peanut M&Ms, drinking Diet Pepsi, and watching Gilmore Girls
watching films in my Anthropology class
having clean laundry
singing worship songs
Nickelback music videos (especially "Photograph" and "Savin' Me")
that Hillary placed Nickelback songs on her iTunes for me even though she hates Nickelback
strawberry ice cream
receiving timely return messages on email or Facebook
rain
the view from my lounge windows at night, with lights glimmering softly in the darkness or the sky becoming subtly lighter and more luminous in the early morning
lamplight
snow swirling slowly and softly around my favorite lamppost, making me feel like I am in Narnia or inside a giant snow globe
cloudy days when the breeze feels coastal
reading interesting or humourous blogs
British spellings
falling asleep at dawn (although waking up at dusk is one of my least favorite things)
praying with friends
fresh, hot, steaming coffee that has just the right amount of cream and sugar in it
lattés
whipped cream
Shout stain remover
reading the opinion page of the student newspaper
genuine smiles
watching movies in theaters
riser seating
not having anyone tall sit in front of me
trickster subversion of perverted justice
when Earl Grey can sense that I'm feeling sad and jumps into my lap and cuddles or gives me kitty kisses
having come up with such a perfect name for my cat
his purr
breakfast in a restaurant
VH1
detesting James Blunt's "You're Beautiful"
listening to Beck
dancing when nobody can see me
the concept in the lyrics of Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten"
cherry chapstick
Portland
good conversations
feeling comfortable being myself
flattering jeans
camisoles and western-style shirts
cardigan sweaters
fleece
leaf buds on trees
when I don't have to worry about keeping the TV volume low
good hair days
well-stocked vending machines
The Chronicles of Narnia and the Saturday Night Live "Lazy Sunday" skit
the color green
the view of the mountains from the top of a hill
days when the temperature is right for sweaters or tee-shirts
not running into anyone in the hall on the way to or from the shower
friendly and efficient business service
when Ian plays "Mad World" by Gary Jules in the coffee shop
wondering about random things like if Bertie Bott's jelly beans came in "Greyhound bus," would they actually taste the way Greyhound buses smell?
finally putting my head on my pillow when I am really sleepy
not being tired
well-constructed sentences
doing better on exams than I thought I did
new books
the smell of Bible pages
accidentally overhearing conversations about God
crocheting
yarn
books on knitting or crocheting, especially when they have glossy pictures of hip, cozy, colorful items
how God is healing my brokenness and slaking my thirst in ways I don't always immediately recognize
blogging

Fear

How much time and energy do we spend trying to protect ourselves from loss and pain? Is it worth it?

If my greatest fears came true, could it separate me from God or alter His love for me? Prevent me from living out my calling or fulfilling my purpose? Destroy my potential for contentment and even joy?

No, no, and no again!

I Can't Help It

I like Bo Bice in spite of myself.

It's Not "They," It's...

Them! A 1954 science fiction film featuring giant ants that take over America. Scary.

A shining sink...

...is a beautiful thing.

A Scourge

Cell phones are a scourge, I tell you, a scourge! Except when I need to use one.

The Infamous "They"

I find myself saying "they" a lot. "They need to..." "They say..." "They are expecting..." "They think..."

Who are "they" anyway? For me, "they" have generally taken the form of some nameless panel of experts somewhere.

But it is a question that has haunted me my entire life. Does anyone actually know?

Stephen King ought to title his next novel "They." Hey, "It" was a success, so why not "They"?

Advice

If you see someone visibly suffering from a mental illness, especially one which causes them to engage in behaviors that might seem odd to you, take care not to notice anything other than their humanity. Remember that no-one is any more or any less important or valuable than anyone else. Your pity is not required, but your kindness is.

Vending Machine Blues

The vending machine hasn't been restocked for almost two weeks, and I miss my Doritos.

[cue Proclaimers song music]

But I would walk five hundred miles
and I would walk five hundred more
just to be the girl who walked a thousand miles
to buy Doritos from the store...

Not really. That's why they need to restock the vending machine already!

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

I just felt like it.

I Heart the Brawny Man!

Click here to visit. Stay awhile. He won't mind.

A Revelation

I recently realized that the coffee urns on campus have little clear indicator tubes on the front that show how full they are. This is wonderful! How could I ever not have noticed? This solves the age-old dilemma of wondering which urn contains the hottest, freshest, most recently brewed coffee!

By the way, whoever decided to call them urns anyway? It sounds so macabre. The spigots don't dispense ashes. It's not like there's a coffee funeral going on.

Beck, Prince, Nickelback

Is it weird that I just want to scoop Beck up and give him a big hug? Does the guy ever smile? I'd really like to see that.

I officially nominate Prince's "Black Sweat" the grossest music video ever made. I won't deny he's a talented musician. The blouse is fine, the popped collar is okay, but please spare us the body fluids and the greasy chest hair.

And in other news, I love Nickelback's newest hit video "Savin' Me" so much I wanna marry it.

A Little Slack

Hey perfectionist! Cut yourself some slack. It'll make it easier to cut everyone else a little slack too.

Dearth of Posts

I blame it on midterms. Actually, wait. No, I can't do that. After all, midterms didn't prevent me from marathon Gilmore Girls watching sessions.

Okay, then, I blame it on enough sleep. Sleep deprivation fuels this blog. Only when I lack sleep am I sufficiently unable to reason clearly enough to distinguish between what is and isn't worth posting (thus the glut of posts that are published in the wee hours of the early morning). Enough sleep and this blog is doomed; nothing seems funny or intelligent anymore.

Blogger's block. At least it's more poetic than "writer's block." It has that whole alliteration thing going on. Oh, and assonance too!

Memories from Miles Away

A few semesters ago, I took a personal and exploratory writing course (creative non-fiction). One of the assignments was to use the first several paragraphs of Mary Clearman Blew's essay "The Sow in the River" from her book "All But the Waltz" as a structural template for writing about our own memories of a specific place. Here is the piece I came up with...

Among the skyscrapers to the west of the river in northwest Portland, where 21st Avenue cuts a ribbon of pavement and gathers the colorful thronging crowds into its valley between opposing ridgelines of shops and boutiques, a stately brick walkup apartment building stands. It is on _______, about midway between 21st and 23rd on a quieter stretch. From where I have stopped walking and looked up from my place on the damp sidewalk below, I can see the building, a solid and dignified interruption of the frilly Victorians. I can even see the symmetrical row of maples, providing rain-dappled shade and a filter of privacy over the windows.

I know from my past that if I were to keep walking towards the building and open the door and go up the plush, carpeted stairs and down the corridor to the studio, I would find the space light and airy, the hardwoods shining, and the view into the courtyard green and lovely. But from where I stand the apartment is tucked away and invisible, as distant as my memories of the year I was 23, when I lived in that studio on _______ with my cat and my solitude and the trees outside my window whispering dreams and my fiancé in an apartment two stories below.

My memories seem to me as intangible as the whisperings of those trees. Is it possible, standing here on this damp pavement of a worn sidewalk in this lively district of Portland where the sounds of horns and footsteps and laughter and rain blur into my interior silence, watching the doors of the building open and close as strangers I will never meet spill out onto the sidewalk and wend their way up the street to disappear in the ever-changing flow of the crowd, to believe in any moment but this one? The past fades with their footsteps. I cannot trace a path among them that could be my own. How can I place faith in memory, which shifts and sways and fades and falls, sepia-toned, beautiful but dead as the leaves that are stripped off a maple in autumn?

Beauty Boot Camp, Lesson #8

No matter how good it smells, one should not use Febreze as a substitute for perfume. (Although I am the queen of using products in ways for which they were not intended, I have never actually tried this. But still...)

Latté

The word latté appeared in my last post eight times. Mmmm... latté.

Starbucks Coffee vs. Starbucks Coffee

While in P-town this weekend, I decided to ride the rails (lovingly known by Rose City inhabitants as MAX), get myself downtown, and spend my very last dime on a Starbucks latté. I got off the train at Pioneer Courthouse Square (ah! the inexpressible joy I felt at the familiar sight of this brick-inlaid community gathering place filled with all the squawk and beauty of the thronged masses of Portland humanity!) and fairly danced into Starbucks. After waiting in line for an interminable period of time, I was finally served my steaming cup of frothy milk and espresso by an impersonally surly barista. When I checked to make sure it was my order - "This is a half-caf latté, right?" - he looked at me with a mixture of pity and amusement, and speaking very slowly, as though being extra patient with a person with cognitive disabilities, confirmed with clear and careful enunciation, "Yes, this is a half-caf grande latté." Satisfied, I took a sip, savoring the aroma. Yes, I decided, truly this was a cup of coffee one could almost be tempted to sell her soul for.

Skip forward - a day and many tears later, I found myself back in small town exile. Faced with frugality imposed by my dwindling flex dollar account, I resigned myself to the sad knowledge that my Portland latté would be my last espresso for a very long time. Plain coffee would be my fate until I found some way to resurrect my now-dead checking account. And if I wanted to wallow, I'd make it black. But wait! I thought to myself, grasping for any rationalization, shouldn't I compare my fabled Portland taste sensation to a campus Starbucks latté, just in case I was romanticizing just a wee bit? Yes, indeed. That would be the only sensible thing to do. And so, heart racing, I stepped up to the counter and ventured hesitantly, "Um, could I please have a grande decaf latté"? (From a purist standpoint, I was leaving the opportunity for another latté open. After all, can one really, in good conscience, compare a half-caf latté to a decaf one?) And when it was delivered into my open, waiting hands, I realized.... no, it doesn't compare. It just doesn't. Smiling barista notwithstanding.

Beauty Boot Camp, Lesson #7

Don't use bar soap as a substitute for shampoo. Especially not Irish Spring deodorant soap. Even if you run out of shampoo. Cetaphil might be better, but I still don't recommend it. Take my word for it and just don't do it!

Put on the shoes of the gospel of peace.

Beauty Boot Camp Baby Steps

Okay, to summarize so far...

1. Gentle facial cleanser
2. Hair gel
3. Cool shoes
4. Lip gloss
5. Hand lotion
6. A coat

Sotally Tober

"What kind of alcohol is in tequila?" - Me (after one - and only one - margarita)

"HAha, you're cut off!" - Alexandra (my sister, who also happened to be the waitress)

I wasn't actually even tipsy. It was just a word slip. I meant to ask "What kind of alcohol is in a margarita?" Guess I subconsciously already knew!

Beauty Boot Camp, Lesson #6

The zen mindtrick of repeating, "I am boiling, I am boiling, I am swimming in a bowl of hot tomato soup" just doesn't cut it when the temperature is 19 degrees.

Wear a coat when it's cold outside. Warmth is always beautiful.

Beauty Boot Camp, Lesson #5

Hand lotion, while not a good idea for use in one's hair, is an excellent idea for use on one's hands.

Beauty Boot Camp, Lesson #4

Lip gloss. 'Nuff said.

Beauty Boot Camp, Lesson #3

All-white tennis shoes are not okay, unless you are a nurse wearing scrubs, or... well... you are on the tennis court.

In answer to my inquiry about whether Converse sneakers (which I have never purchased or worn but which come highly recommended and which I aspire to someday own) come in white, resident fashion maven and beauty boot camp leader Bon said they actually do, "And that is THE ONLY acceptable form of white sneaker. But you have to get them all scuffed and dirty, otherwise you're a total dork."

I guess my continual laundering and application of liquid whitener for my canvas Keds in my adolescence wouldn't have gone over very well with her. But hey, it was cool back then (I think).

Beauty Boot Camp, Lesson #2

One should not use hand lotion as a substitute for hair gel.

Beauty Boot Camp, Lesson #1

Irish Spring deodorant soap does not work well as a facial cleanser for sensitive skin.

Wu-Tang!

Simple Genius

Today I invited Hillary to go to Late Night with me. It looked like she was doing homework, so I apologized for interrupting.

"Oh, no," she said. "It's okay. I'm actually pretty much done."

Homework. Done.

This is a concept I can't quite wrap my head around. Never in the history of my collegiate career can I ever remember being done -- even for a day. I have never crossed an item off my list without coming to another item that needed to be completed. Because I'm extremely slow and methodical, a perfectionist, and easily overwhelmed, and because I know that I'll never be done, sometimes I give up on the idea of even starting. Why begin something that I know I'll never be able to finish? So I resign myself to a semester of partially completed reading projects (fortunately I'm excellent at faking that I know what I'm talking about in class discussions), homework assignments turned in late, marathon paper-writing sessions, and all-nighters before major tests.

When I was younger, this worked. It isn't working anymore. No amount of caffeine in the world can relieve me of my fatigue, anxiety, and low academic self-esteem. I'd love to be able to watch a movie, go to a concert, or simply hang out with friends without feeling guilty, like there are a million other things I really should be doing instead.

"What's your secret?" I had to ask.

"It's pretty simple, really. I do my homework as soon as it's assigned. If I have a lot of reading to do, I space it out and do a little each day. There's no sense in procrastinating. I know that when it's done, I can play!"

Wow. Simple genius.

Jesus

Why did he starve for 40 days?

Why was he homeless?

Why did he challenge authorities?

Why did he defend the weak?

Why did he wash nasty feet?

Why did he die without defense?

Why did he defy racial prejudice?

Because we wouldn't.

--Jeremiah Nealon and John Paradis

51 Posts

I posted 51 times in January. I'm not sure I can top that. Quality over quantity (hopefully)!

And in other news...

I love my new haircut. I feel like a pixie or a sprite or a flower fairy or something. My hairstyle feels light and pretty and free. And my family says it makes me look more mature. I no longer look like a "round, smiling, bright, shining... M&M."

Cultural Imperialism and Ministry

I had a conversation with my mom today because of my increasing desire to go into relief work/ministry overseas. She challenged me with these thoughts and questions: Is evangelism a form of cultural imperialism? Can it sometimes do more harm than good? (A look at the history of American Indian/missionary interactions on this continent will supply one answer.) Is it condescending and demeaning to a culture to have outsiders (in developing countries, usually white) come in, assuming their way is the better one, and set to work "helping" to correct that culture's perceived deficiencies? Do relief workers sometimes fall prey to the error illustrated in the maxim "to give a man a fish will feed him for a day, but to teach him how to fish will feed him for a lifetime" (i.e. only providing short-term solutions to long-term problems)?

These questions are weighing heavy on my heart as I think about my future. I just want to help people. It's as simple as that. I just want their basic human needs to be met. I don't want to destroy their traditional ways of life or engage in cultural imperialism in any way. However, I do believe that although truth is to be found in many different religions, it is only in Christianity that the fullness of the truth is revealed. I want everyone to know Christ because I believe that he is the son of God -- an essential person of the glorious and life-giving trinity.

I have always had trouble with the idea that salvation is for Christians only. I like what C.S. Lewis says: that every person is in flux, in a state of becoming more Christ-like or less Christ-like. Salvation seems like a mystery to me. I do believe that following Christ guarantees salvation because each Christian has asked for forgiveness and been ransomed from death and sin through his sacrificial death and resurrection. I do not believe that "works" are the way to salvation; they are the fruit of a heart that loves God and not a way to "earn" his love. I have simply always believed that God knows the heart of every man and saves whom he will (not in a Calvinistic sense of predestination, however -- I believe in free will), and that those who seek him will find him, and that anyone who prays to God by whatever name they call him will eventually meet Christ because Christ is God. I have a difficult time with the outsider/insider mentality that many evangelists seem to have ("Are you saved?"). Still, paradoxically, I have a heart for evangelism.

My mother contends that the only way to help people is to love them, not to try to change them. I agree. But how do you love people best when it seems that change is what is needed (both for yourself and others)? I can't change myself or anyone else. Only Jesus can.

About assumptions of cultural superiority and cultural imperialism: I see the many, many wrongs inflicted by and flaws and weaknesses inherent in the culture in which I have lived. But I have always had clean drinking water, sanitary bathroom facilities, access to education, plentiful food, etc., and when people don't, there is something very wrong there. It seems to me that basic relief work to amend the immediate sufferings of people must go hand in hand with trying to get to the root of and correct the deeper, causal problem. How do you, as an outsider abroad, do that without destroying a culture's traditional ways of life? How often has the problem itself been caused by imperialism? Should we all stick to solving the problems of our own communities rather than venturing out globally? If so, isn't it somewhat hard-hearted to only want to help "our own"? How do we distinguish between "our own" and the "other"? (We're all human beings.) Is it wrong to go elsewhere when there are people in need right here at home? How do we define "home"? Isn't there value to the international understandings and friendships that can be fostered by cross-cultural pollination? And why does it have to be so complicated?

Each Day a New Beginning

My old enemies, perfectionism and procrastination, are rearing their heads once again to slow my progress. I am struggling with my February resolutions, and my January ones have collapsed along with them. Have I been reading my Bible the last few nights? No. Have I skipped flossing? Yes. Have I eaten sugar? Yes. (There was that mocha that was given away for free because nobody claimed it... mmmm.... And then there was that protein bar that had just an eeensie bit of chocolate drizzled over the top... it was so easy to justify.) Have I made it to bed by midnight? Sometimes, but certainly not as the rule. Is my sink shiny? Unh-uh. Have I decluttered? Not yet. I absolutely dread doing this. I can't face my mountains of boxes... I don't even want to touch them, much less assign a place to the contents (there isn't room in my dorm anyway, even for the things I love). Last night was my goof-off night, and I had no trouble doing that, but today was my laundry and get-things-done day, and instead I spent the entire day with my family.

So. I have to start over. Today. Right now. Every day is a new beginning. And it's not as if I'm going back to square one. As one of my friends recently said, "When you're running a race, and halfway through you fall down, you're not suddenly transported directly back to the start. No. You've still made progress. When you pick yourself back up again, you're starting from where you left off (which is still halfway to the finish line)." Her remark was in reference to the spiritual life, and how when we make a mistake or fall back into familiar sin after committing ourselves to the Lord, we have a tendency to beat ourselves up, despair, and want to give up, when really we should recognize that we've begun the process of sanctification and be happy to be on the path. But I think the analogy works well in any area in which we are striving to make progress.

I am starting fresh again.

This Administration's Actions... Inconceivable!

I wonder if Dubya has ever gone in against a Sicilian when death was on the line.

Resolutions for February

I did pretty well with my January resolutions overall. I flossed everyday. I read my Bible passage and devotional every evening, save two (it'll be easy enough to catch up). I confess I didn't shine my sink daily, but it was never overwhelmingly messy, so I think that counts. As for the sugar... well, that's a different story. I've modified that goal a little...

So, here they are -- my resolutions for February:

1. To not eat sugar except after a full meal at Bob's.
2. To go to bed by midnight every night (preferably 11).
3. To declutter for 15 minutes every day (Flylady).

As flexibility is key in maintaining my will to keep going, if I don't get to bed by midnight, instead of chucking the idea of a bedtime, I will simply try to get to bed as early after midnight as possible. If I don't declutter for 15 minutes, I'll be satisfied with 5, or 2 things, or whatever...

In addition, I don't exactly have these as resolutions, but rather as guidelines: Friday night is goof-off night, Saturday is laundry and get things done day, Sunday is church day, Wednesday is errands day (I must check my mail every week!). If I don't corral my time, it gets lost and my self-esteem goes down the tubes (where does that expression come from, by the way?).

Of course, with the implementation of monthly goals, continuation of newly formed habits from the previous months is assumed.

Good luck, me!

If You're Considering Suicide...

Maybe it's a little strange to mention it on my blog, but I feel compelled for some reason to do so. So, if you're considering suicide, please don't do it. Please. The saying is a little clichéd perhaps, but it's so true that "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem." Even if your problems or state of mind feel permanant, they aren't. Please believe me. Circumstances change. And even when they do remain the same (temporarily), perspectives can change. Perspectives that may make all the difference between your desire to live and your desire to die. Think about this: every life will end in death. That is certain. But how do you want to spend your eternity? I believe that in death the state of our souls in this life is made permanent. If you die a self-inflicted death borne of pain, desperation, isolation, the deception that it will be better for others, a desire for revenge, hatred, rage, sorrow, or whatever emotions are lulling you into thoughts of death, you may be sentencing yourself to an eternity of more of the same, with no hope for change or release. If, on the other hand, you commit yourself to survival and courageously face your problems and pain, your future holds so much promise of joy, usefulness, peacefulness, purpose and blessing even if you cannot see it now.

Perhaps you don't believe in eternity. Perhaps you believe that death means a permanent loss of consciousness. Consider, for a moment, the possibility that you may be wrong. Are you willing to stake not only your life, but your eternity, on your belief that death is merely a peaceful escape from the pain of life?

Please just hold on. Please reach out for help. Please don't punish yourself for someone else's wrongs to you. Please talk to someone you trust. Please dare to say a prayer for deliverance from the darkness pressing in on you. Please don't give up if the first person you talk to doesn't understand or know how to help you best. See a doctor, a counselor, a priest or pastor, a friend, a teacher, or all of these. Try medication or nutritional supplements. Consider the possibility that you have not exhausted your options. Please just keep trying. Please.

There is hope.

How do I know? I've been there. I have spent most of my life (from childhood to adulthood) battling severe depression and depression-inducing anxiety. I have been hospitalized twice -- once for an attempt, and once for suicidal ideation/threats. I am not ashamed to share this because, in my opinion, there is way too much stigma surrounding mental health issues in our society, and the only way to ever reduce this stigma is for sufferers to come forward and have their voices heard. I believe there are many different causes for depression; sometimes the issue is brain chemistry resulting from poor nutrition, low thyroid, stress, etc. Sometimes it's loneliness or a feeling of uselessness. Sometimes the problem is spiritual. I definitely believe that Satan and his demons tempt us by preying on our weaknesses (one of which may be a genetic or biological predisposition to depression). It is not your fault that you are feeling this way but you are responsible for how you choose to cope with it.

Fortunately, for as many times in my life that I have fantasized about suicide (more than I can count), it is no longer an option for me to even think about it. It no longer holds the glamour, the appeal, the promise, the tantalizing allure that it once did. Yes, I still experience the temptation of despair at times, but it no longer holds me in its grip. This change has not happened overnight, but it has happened. Every day that I place my hope, trust and faith in God is a new day to learn, to grow, to hope, to love, to meet the challenges I face, and to grow closer to Him and others. He is there for you.

I realize this post may be insensitive to a reader who has lost someone to suicide, and I would like to offer this thought: "What is impossible with men is possible with God." (Luke 18:27). I believe that God hears and honors your faithful prayers for the soul of your beloved. I do not believe that God turns his back on us ever, even in death. I believe that he yearns after us: "...how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!" (Jesus speaking, in Luke 13:34). I believe that it is we who isolate ourselves from him and that when this is done purposefully and unrepentantly in a sustained manner, it results in the state of the soul known as hell. I am not a theologian and so these words are only a reflection of my own thoughts, but I do believe that prayers on behalf of those who are not able to pray for themselves have great efficacy. For this reason, we should never lose heart!

GAAAAH!!!

I have to vent because the dryers don't (well, they do, but seemingly to each other, so that they're always dripping wet inside with scummy buildup and your clothes never dry, especially when other dryers are in use). Here is my biggest pet peeve: I hate it when you pick a time when you don't think anyone else will be doing laundry, and you go downstairs and all the machines are in use, so you come back later, and they're still all in use, and you try again, and finally the laundry room is empty, and you think, oh good, here's my chance, and you load up the washers, and three minutes later someone comes in with what looks like a month's worth of clothes, and they plonk their stuff down right on top of yours so that your stuff is scrunched up against the wall where the sticky detergent goo on the counter was from the last person and they're so disappointed because they were hoping to use the machines, and you apologize and explain that you've been waiting for a really long time too, but you work them in, and then they let their laundry sit for hours and hours in the washers you were planning to use, but you don't want to move it because you think it would be really rude and you don't want them to get mad, and then you wipe out the only dryers you feel are safe to use (the two out of six without the cruddy buildup), and they come along and load their laundry into one of your two freshly cleaned dryers when you're upstairs carrying up the finished load you didn't want to leave sitting (because if you did your clothes would get damp and scummy, plus you have a newly washed load waiting to be dried) and you think, how ironic, because you were there for so long with not a soul in sight and they have to appear and take your dryer during the two minutes you left your clothes unattended and then you wait and you wait because they never come back for their clothes, even though they know you're waiting for that dryer, and after you've gone upstairs again to take more clothes up you come downstairs and someone else has opened up your washing machine which only stopped one minute ago and already they're trying to move your clothes and you have to wash them again and you notice them dumping an entire lint filter into the garbage and banging it around in there to loosen the lint, which is really gross because it's in the depths of the garbage can, and you know what was recently in there, and then they put it back in the dryer (now contaminated), and then the ink runs and makes splotches all over the white fabric of the brand new never-been-worn India print cotton blouse you just got as a present from your mom because you were waiting for the dryer you had cleaned out and it sat in the washer wet which you normally never let your clothes do because just such a thing might happen and besides you think it would be rude if someone else came along and needed a washer and your clothes were just sitting in there, and by the time the person who used the dryer you cleaned out does finally come back, it's all full of streaky pinkish-grey marks and you don't want to use it anymore, and you have to run your dryers twice each time because the dryers vent to each other and the tubes that supposedly vent outside are so stopped up with lint that they're no longer working, especially when more than one person is using the dryers and you've mentioned it to your RAs and they've let Housing know and it was supposed to be fixed ages ago and you thought you'd be done with your laundry by your newly established bedtime and now you're all off track again even though you've put so much energy and effort into trying to reset your sleep schedule by staying up all night to induce sleep deprivation to make yourself tired at night and it's worked and you are tired and all you want to do is take a shower and go to bed and your blood sugar is low because you missed dinner and you still have to fold all your clothes and people are looking at you funny because you're wearing your knee-length paisley skirt and gold jeweled slippers with navy blue athletic socks and white camisole with no bra because you're down to your very last clean clothes which is why you're doing laundry and why you have to get it done before tomorrow when you have to be up early because you're going to church with a friend and you're really embarrassed because you know you look weird and you're worried about leaving your clothes alone again even just to run upstairs to put a load away because someone might touch/move/steal them, and because you're so jumpy and tired and strangely dressed your hallmates now think you're a freak and all I can say is that I really, really, really want my own washer and dryer.

Can You Hear It?

Can you hear it?
No? Try again. Turn down the music.

Can you hear it?
Still no? Turn off the cell phone. Don't worry, they'll call back.

Can you hear it?
Hmmm. Okay, we gotta leave. Your house, these walls, these things. It's out there, and it must be heard.

Can you hear it?
Your books won't help you. Nor your laptops.

Can you hear it?
Further now. Let's get away from the noise and the chatter.

Can you hear it?
Those prescriptions, subscriptions and memberships can't get it done. Leave behind your cards.

Can you hear it?
It sounds familiar? Sure, but you've never heard it before.

Can you hear it?
Have you been taught about it? I'm sure you have, but this is a time to listen, not learn.

Can you hear it?
You have to hear it.

Listen.

All is still.... Listen.

It's faint.

It's coming from the desert.

He is singing.

Listen hard. No water makes one's voice crack. Still, he is singing.

"You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry."

It's the song of a yet to be crowned king.

Can you hear it?

Over there in the field. There are many voices. They are deep and soulful.
No, not the laughing voices, the singing ones.

"Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home"

The song of a stolen family.

Can you hear it?

It's getting louder now.

It's coming from that old building, the one with the fancy glass.

It's coming from that street corner.

That auditorium, that hotel, that classroom.

Hear the guitars, drums and turntables.

Hear the pianos, organs and harps.

It's echoing in beautiful cathedrals.

It's rising above crying children and gun shots.

Over there

"We will overcome"

Over there

"Be thou my vision"

And there

"Blessed be the name of the Lord"

(pause)
Can you hear it?

Your phone, it's ringing.
Your email is chirping.
Your TV is blaring.

Which choir will you join?

Can you hear it?

--Jeremiah Nealon

I'm thinking I'm lovin' it really is finger lickin' good to the last drop!

If I were director of an ad campaign...

Bondi Bondalea Bon Bon

I can say it here, and nothing can stop me! ;)

Cheer Up, Emo Kid

Amazing Grace...

Because I am always singing the first stanza of this song whilst wishing I knew the rest, here are the lyrics to "Amazing Grace," composed by John Newton for "Olney Hymns" (a hymnal written for weekly prayer meetings conducted in Olney, Buckinghamshire, where Newton once served as a minister):

Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound)
That sav’d a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears reliev’d;
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believ’d!

Thro’ many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
’Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promis’d good to me,
His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease;
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, who call’d me here below,
Will be forever mine.

Throughout the years, other writers have added additional verses (perhaps drawing on verses from Newton's other hymns) -- thus the wide variation that can be found in the lyrics to this perenially popular hymn. However, these are the original six stanzas that appeared, with minor spelling variations, in both the first edition of "Olney Hymns," published in 1779, and the 1808 edition, the one nearest the date of Newton’s death.

A lass and a lack...

...of sleep? Or of sunlight? It seems I must make the choice.

Alas and Alack!

I am trying to cure my insomnia (actually delayed sleep phase syndrome) and resultant daytime fatigue, missing of morning classes, tendency to be always rushing and running late, etc. It's time that I rejoin my life and start meeting my daytime commitments. Unfortunately, since I usually feel a surge of energy starting at around 9 p.m., and my creativity tends to peak between the hours of 11 p.m. and 3 a.m., all my ideas are going up in smoke (or should I say snores?) with my new efforts to be in bed by no later than midnight. Alas, I'm still having trouble making it to morning classes. The fact of the matter is that my body will sleep as much as I let it, be it 12 hours or even longer. So going to bed at midnight doesn't necessarily make it easy to get up at, say, eight. Sigh. Why wasn't I blessed with the cheerful, always on-time morning person gene? Why can't I greet the dawn (instead of dusk) with a spring in my step and genuine pleasure at the prospect of a new day? Why? And what is it that will get me there? Is it just a matter of discipline and willingness to relinquish my hold on my nighttime creativity and productivity and force myself into bed at an earlier hour night after night? When will it be less of a struggle?

It's tempting, when I eventually resume my role as a full-time wage-earner, to simply resign myself to a lifetime of working graveyard or swing shift. But, in reality, I honestly find the lack of natural daylight that comes with my vampiric ways incredibly depressing and want desperately to be able to reset my internal clock.

In the meantime, a dearth of blog posts just means I am making myself at least try to simulate a "normal" schedule -- a schedule in which I sleep at night and am awake during the day and make it to my morning classes like any good student should.