C'est La Vie
What a beautiful piece of heartache this has all turned out to be. Lord knows we've learned the hard way all about healthy apathy. And I use these words pretty loosely. There's so much more to life than words..
Things I love
Friday, March 29, 2002
"Probably Erin opening and closing the cabinets in the bathroom," my brain told me, in an attempt to not REALLY analyze the sound.
However, the sound persisted. And it most assuredly was NOT coming from the bathroom, where the only other living creature in the house besides myself was located.
Or at least, the only other living creature that was supposed to be in the house.
Finally, I was sure that the sound was coming from the kitchen, and that it was not one I could easily explain away or shrug off. Having had a mouse crawling on my bed at about 3am several months ago (I woke up and moved, and heard it scurrying down the sheets hanging off the side of my bed), and having seen one in the living room a few nights after that, I had a pretty good feeling I knew exactly what was causing the sound.
As I slowly got off the papazan and walked into the dining room (from which I have a direct line of vision into most of the kitchen), my thoughts were confirmed. There, on the cookie sheet on which were still stuck some cookies my roommate had tried to bake the night before, sat one plump little mouse, contentedly scraping off bits of cookies and chomping them into his plump little belly.
"AAAUUUGGHHH!! Mouse!" I said/screamed, just loud enough to get my roommate's attention through at least two closed doors and maybe running water.
Now, here's the difference between Erin and I. I like rodents. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to hand-feed some squirrels on my last trip to DC, and was really happy when one even crawled up on my lap. Just so long as they're not biting me and infecting me with rabies, rodents are nice. I keep pet gerbils. I love my pet gerbils. (Right now, they're being kept by someone else as Erin is terribly allergic to all aminals, but I still do love my gerbils.) I loved sitting at my second-story kitchen window last year and watching all the squirrels play on the first-floor roof and jump from the branches of the big oak tree in the backyard/driveway. I enjoy watching my pet gerbils play with eachother (the girls I have have a bar hanging from the roof of their cage that once belonged to a toy. One of the funnest things my gerbils can do is when they do pull-ups on that bar. It's really great!)
I like watching hamsters, mice, guinea pigs, and even less-cute animals like rats, and less-rodenty animals like bats, as they all go about their daily lives. Rodents are fascinating creatures. They do really neat things.
However, having a mouse that might have rabies in my home, especially since he's probably related to the same one that had enough gall to crawl onto my bed and probably crawl right up to my skin, is not such a cute or fascinating thing. I don't want to kill the poor things, I just want to get them back outside, where they belong.
(The fact that there's a lot of construction going on across the street explains a great deal of our sudden mouse-tresspassers-increase.)
Erin, on the other hand, is not a fan of rodents of any kind. She shudders to think that I actually keep some as pets. She's terrified to know that I let a squirrel sit on my lap in DC. She hates to see rodents on TV (and she can watch surgury or lions eating gazelles, mind you) and she hates even more to see them in person. Getting to see a snake eating a rodent is, to her, a cause for great rejoicing.
This is the difference between my roommate and I.
So when I let her know that we had a mouse in her kitchen (at which point the mouse fled to the floor and behind the oven), she came rushing out in a very unhappy way.
We spent the next 20 to 45 minutes (funny how one loses track of time when one is trying to get a teeny creature out of a huge space) thinking up ways to get the mouse back outside. Despite her hatred of rodents, Erin would still rather not kill them when an alternative exists, and she does also understand that watching animals die is nearly enough to make me vomit. (I'm not a vegetarian.. as long as it's already dead and looking nothing like it's living form when I get it, I'm fine. But actually SEEING something give up the ghost is not my cup-o-tea.)
So we talked, we plotted, we schemed. Every five minutes or so, the brave little toas.. er.. mouse would stick his head out from between the oven and the cabinet. When he was on the cookie sheet and I was across the room, he seemed HUGE. However, when he stuck his tiny little head out, he looked like he was no bigger than a quarter. Or at least no bigger than a very large grape.
And he had these massive, bulging, yet somehow beady eyes. They stuck out from his head like extra limbs. As black as the blackest piece of coal, and yet belonging to a creature much less pleasant.
Finally, we made something of a maze-like pathway from the other side of the oven out the backdoor. And while I blocked the way between the oven and the door, Erin banged at the counter-side with the broom to scare the little rascel out from his safe-place. He shot out of there faster than a speeding bullet, and has not yet been seen again.
Mouse-sighting paranoia reigns on high at our house now, though.
Wednesday, March 27, 2002
So far this year, though, at least since getting my car.. I haven't ever been without shoes when I needed them. Most of the time, there's at least one pair of shoes in my car in case I end up needing them unexpectedly (like being invited out to lunch after babysitting, to which I don't wear shoes.) (And yes, btw.. I do drive barefoot. If I drive with shoes on, with the occasional exception of my massiveboots, my feet go numb and crampy. No good.)
This morning, though, when I realized I wasn't wearing any shoes, I also realized that I didn't have any in my car because I'd taken out my sandles and my boots from this weekend's trips and Monday's school and Tuesday's rainy gallivanting, and they were sitting on my bedroom floor right where they belong when I don't need them. But I needed them. And I was across town.
And late to class.
So I opened my trunk, hoping against hope that there was some pair of shoes in there. My mind raced through different pairs of shoes that I own (not many, mind you. But unfortunately, I do have different colors of dress clothes and thus am expected to own a few pairs of dress shoes. I got them all for free anyway.) Each one I could think of was also sitting on my bedroom floor. That didn't take long to discover.
And when I opened my trunk, I saw that my suitcase was still in there from my spring break trip. And I thought "the only shoes I brought with me on spring break were my sandles and my massiveboots."
Yet, I opened my suitcase anyway, just because God has worked more powerful miricles before.
And there, to my great delight, was my pair of reallystinkincoolshoes that look like saddle shoes. (I also got these for free. Actually, I don't think I've ever paid for any shoes 'cept the two bucks I spent on my pair of snow boots at the thrift store.)
And socks, too!
And so I had shoes and didn't have to drive home to get them and was able to go to class and only be a little bit late instead of almost missing the whole thing.
Now, for your great amusement, just try to picture my teacher's face when I explained to her why I was late. I could almost hear her think "And THIS is the girl that gets solid A's on all my tests?!??"
So I drove to school, parked, opened my car door, and stepped out of my car.
"Shoot!" I thought.
"I'm not wearing any shoes."
Monday, March 25, 2002
One of the assumptions we used as an example was how our society (And the society Jesus lived in) believes that when someone hurts you, it's ok to want revenge and to seek revenge. Indeed, we often think it's quite noble.
Yet Jesus taught forgiveness and love instead. He taught that we're to love those people, even when they hurt us. He taught that we're not to seek revenge, but instead to seek grace and mercy.
The following night I was at a concert. There was a particularly rude woman there as well, with whom I had a few interactions throughout the evening. The group of people that were joining me at this concert (in the sense that they got there later than I, not in the sense that they were going because of me or anything like that) all also pointed out the rudeness of this particular woman before I so much as thought of mentioning it to them.
In one instance, I leaned over to VERY quietly whisper a VERY short comment to the girl sitting next to me. A good friend that I only get to see every few months, if that, and that is also one of the few people I can really talk about music with and know that she'll understand exactly what I'm saying. Anyway, mid-comment, a very long and hissy "ssshhhhhhhhhhh" came from the rude woman, who had turned around to glare at me. The hissy shhh was longer than the comment, for crying out loud! And more disturbing to other people around us, for that matter.
So I just gave up on my comment to my friend and continued watching the comment, trying to figure out how to really forgive this woman. (Not that I didn't want to, just that no one can really explain to you how to forgive, you know? And it's hard to find out on your own, as we all must do, what it really means. And each time I thought I had forgiven her, I found myself stealing glances in her direction and wishing that she wasn't so rude or wasn't there to ruin the experience for so many other people and everything else. That's obviously not a sign of forgiveness. Not that forgiveness means letting people walk all over you, either, but it certainly doesn't mean letting thoughts of them consume you, nor thinking about THEM as bad individuals.. rather just acknowledging that some of their actions weren't the best possible choices, just as we ourselves make bad choices each day.)
ALL that to say that at one point, she leaned over to make a comment to the other rude woman with her, and I was so very tempted to hush her.
And I thought about talking to the jr. higher I was paired up with on Thursday about not seeking revenge. And about loving and forgiving and grace and mercy. And about reversing prevalining assumptions. And about seeking to live as Christ would live if He were in my shoes.
And I almost cried at how horrible a person I still am.
Monday, March 18, 2002
As of yet, I haven't had anyone notice my ring and ask if I was engaged or married, nor anyone that I hadn't seen for a while think I'd neglected to tell them some good news. However, rings and guitar-string-practicality-after-they're-broken do both come up in conversation a great deal in my world, and it's always fun to be able to show people this guitar-string-ring I made in about an hour. (the "ball" .. which is the piece on the end of the guitar string that is used to peg the string to the guitar at the bridge or something .. I'm not a guitarist, if you can't tell.. is in the center of this ring, where a daimond or other gem would be if this were a traditional engagement ring. Forming the ring part itself, and connecting to each side of the ball, is a normal wound guitar string. Fortuantely, I found a silver-colored one right when I was wanting to make this ring, which means I was not only able to not have a green circle around my ring finger from the oxidation of other guitar-string jewelry I've worn in the past, but also that I can wear a silver-colored ring that goes with my silver-colored thumb-watch and my silver-colored Claddagh.)
The other night, at a CD-release concert for a local pair of 17-year old twins that are just amazingly incredible musicians, I was helping the friend of mine that opened for them to tear down his drum set. (Along with his own acoustic music that he played while opening, he also served as the drummer for these twins when they switched from acoustic to full-band set.)
The twins and a few of their even-younger friends were also in the room, some tearing down the equipment and some supervising. One of the supervisors noticed a broken string on the ground, and a conversation about guitar-string uses after they're broken was started. After one of the twins mentioned how they (that is, both of the twins as well as other friends) usually make a bracelet out of a broken string, I mentioned that my ring was even cooler. ;) So one of the guys came over to look, and eventually there were four teenage boys standing on a stage looking down (I wasn't on the stage at this time, and most of them were taller than me even when we were standing on the same level) at my little ring.
One of them pointed out that it could be used as an engagement ring, noting that it was indeed on the correct finger for such usage in my case. "Yes," I said, "That's sort-of what this one is." I explained then that it was a ring to signify my commitment to remaining single.
"What if the ring breaks?"
"My commitment still stands, of course. This ring is likely to break at some point, but just like if a married couple loses one or even both of their bands, their marraige vows remain, so doth my commitment to being single." (I didn't really say doth, but it just looks so much funner in writing, doesn't it?)
The four of them continued to ask other questions about both my commitment and my ring.
Finally, ending the conversation completely, one of them asked:
"Will you still wear it when you get married?"
Monday, March 11, 2002
Redundancy is our friend.
Friday, March 08, 2002
I'd spent a few days with Renee and Darin, and a few with Michelle. I'd gotten to hang out with Brian and Akemi, and had seen some other people I hadn't seen in at least a year and a half, and in several cases much longer. And I'd met a lot of friends-of-friends.
I was leaving Michelle's to go back to Renee and Darin's (where I am now), and decided to get a little bit of gas before hitting the interstate, what with it being rush-hour and all that so that I figured I ought to get more than I needed to get down here, since rush-hour meant a lot of extra gas usage.
And then I stopped at a Kroger's on the same road to get some Starbucks' Ice Cream as a host/hostess gift for Renee and Darin, since they'd never even known Starbucks made ice cream, and since this is some of the most excellent stuff I've ever had. Plus, Renee had had an ice cream craving a few days before I got here, and I figure they strike me often enough that she might could use another pint before long.
On my way out of Kroger's, I stopped to get a box of Samoa's from the Girl Scout's at the end of the plaza. The two girls were really cute, trying to scream "Girl Scout Cookies" as much as they could. Today was a rather warm day, beautiful to be outside, but not so fun to be standing in one place trying to peddle your wares. And it didn't look like these girls were getting a great deal of business, and I was more than happy to help them out and feed my own craving at once. And there I was thinking the boxes were $4 each this year, but I was mistaken .. they were only $3. Party, bonus.
So I'm driving a rather indirect-by-this-time route from Michelle's to Renee and Darin's. I'm in the greater Atlanta area, in which I feel very much at home. And I've got a container of starbucks ice cream in my thermally-insulated Dr. Suess lunchbox (I figured even if I was lucky enough to not hit much rush hour traffic, I'd still better put it in there to reduce the meltage on the half-hour or so trip) and a box of my favorite girl scout cookies on the seat beside me, and a beautiful day to drive in, and my window's down, and there's a great mix tape playing.
It just happens that there were a few fun songs by Steve Taylor on this particular section, from his Squint album. (Thor, give it back to me soon!)
The songs were Bannerman, Sock Heaven, and Cash Cow. So Bannerman and Sock Heaven are two really fun songs, and Bannerman in particular has a lot of meaning for me. (There's an IRC chat room I used to chat in a lot that was named #bannerman and I'm still really good friends with many of the folks from it, which also just happens to be how I met Renee.)
And then Cash Cow comes on. For those of you not familiar with Squint, or Steve Taylor for that matter, Cash Cow is this "rock opera in three small acts" that is absolutely hilarious. It's basically this very humerous (if not cynical .. I really do think it's more realistic than cynical, though.. but then, I'm cynical and jaded myself, so perhaps I'm not the best judge) look at how civilizations throughout time, and our American rumpuses in particular, have this obsession with mula.
And there's this line where Steve says/sings "Who loves power lunching from Spago to the Sizzler?" and then in his maniacal voice sounding like it's coming from a bit of a distance: "Guess who's coming to dinner?!?" *insert maniacal laughter here.*
Have you ever had one of those moments when you were just ceased by joy? When there wasn't someone that just handed you a 20 dollar bill (though that's a very nice thing), nor did you just hear about the friend you were a bridesmaid for possibly getting pregnant (though I'd imagine that's a great feeling, too).. but something, somehow, just a bunch of little random things combined, I guess .. and you just smile, and feel so happy like there's something welling up inside your soul that's just gonna spew itself out all over the whole world and then flowers will sprout everwhere and people will never fight again and short of someone you really care about that isn't a Christian passing away, nothing could make you the slightest bit upset at that moment?
That's what happened right then. The line triggered it, I reckon, and I couldn't help joining in the laughter, though mine was a tad less maniacal. (btw.. if you ever talk to me in person and I feel a hankering to use the word maniacal, I'll more likely than not pronounce it maniac-ul. I also usually say protest-ant rather than the proper pronounciation for protestant. That's just me. In my head as I type, I keep reminding myself it's mah-nie-uh-kuhl, but each time I type it it just sounds so much like may-knee-ack-ul.)
And so even getting onto the freeway to see loads of very backed-up rush-hour traffic, and even realizing that I wasn't entirely certain of which exit I was taking to get back to Renee's (I'd taken a different interstate down, so the directions I had wouldn't help me much from here), and even realizing that Atlanta people -- though they are generally a fairly southern group of people filled with southern hospitality and common sense -- do not apparently have the southern hospitality extension to driving. As a whole, they're not a group that let people merge very well. And then when someone does let others merge, he or she lets about 20 cars "merge" in front of him/her at the same time, thus kinda defeating the purpose. Can we say "alternate", boys and girls?
Not that I'm road ragish .. (long-time or complete readers know that I have serious issues with the whole concept of road rage..) .. just that it struck me as rather odd.
At any rate, even that couldn't upset me at all. The joy had lain hold. And it's lasted all night, to this very moment.
Of course, watching the Cash Cow video when Renee and I got back from the coffeehouse we went to tonite (it was open mic night, so we were highly entertained by a crazy group of folks with good voices and nice guitars for the most part. And some GREAT sammiches before hand. Check out the Sycamore Tree Coffeehouse if you're ever in the Atlanta area. Go there as often as you can. Their sammich and coffee and such sales go to helping the coffeehouse stay open as a ministry to teens in the area.) helped to keep the unceasing-joy going strong.
Good stuff. Joy is a wonderful thing, and I'm so glad God's grace has poured out on us to bring us such a great gift.
Check out Steve Taylor while you're at it... one of the most incredible, creative lyricists I know of.
Tuesday, March 05, 2002
Amos and Andy have a weird system going, too. They were both bought by Renee and her hubby almost 3 years ago when they were both little bitty kittens, sitting frightened in cages at the humane society. The pictures Renee's shown me of their kittenhood are hilarious, between their poses and their massive craniums.
It seems that Amos, in all his deep and dark blackness (Ecky, my old cat, was really a deep, dark brown underneath his black outercoat, so that in the right light he looked more like a soft, fuzzy little teddy bear than a cat sometimes .. but Amos is pure black in any light, with no other spots on him, and with these very yellow eyes like a faded post-it note) seems to be the dominant, more territorial cat. He picks fights with Andy regularly, and he gets to eat out of the food dish when he wants to, even while Andy's trying to have his own meal. So today I watched Andy step aside to let Amos eat, even though Amos could've eaten at any time earlier than that instead of sitting in my lap, and then Andy pawed little pieces out of the dish when Amos's head wasn't in the way, and ate them off the floor. Obviously, I'm thinking, Amos is the dominant cat.
However, they don't really hold to that apart from the food dish. Andy does more with the litter box to mark his territory. And, even though he often looks to Amos for permission to cuddle with someone in those rare moments he's in that mood or thinks he can wrangle a good scratching out of a nearby hand, he can also stare Amos down when he's comfy and Amos wants him to move.
Very, very odd cats.
Wonderful to be around, though. So normal, so natural. I wasn't really much of a cat person before my older brother brought Ecky home one day when I was in maybe the 8th grade. I'd played with cats at friends' houses, and I loved holding kittens almost as much as I loved holding puppies, but I didn't think I'd ever really want to own a cat specifically. I'd already had gerbils, parakeets, and a golden retriever (not in that order) along with taking care of class pets during breaks, and really felt no desire to stray from my pet-owning experiences. In fact, we still had a gerbil for the first year or so that we had Ecky, 'till she (the gerbil.. Ecky was a boy) apparently got her nose stuck in the wheel and died a gruesome and horrible death. Poor girl.
Ecky was one of the great loves of my life, though. He grew on my immediately when John brought him home, and I apparently grew on him as well. I don't actually know where he is now, but that's a long story.
It's nice having Andy and Amos walking in and out of the various rooms I'm in at any given moment, though. Andy just came back in and is across the room now, but even just having him in the same room is nice. There's just something about a house with pets vs. one without, and especially with pets that have the freedom to move around as they wish. (As opposed to gerbils or birds in cages. And then there are those gerbils out of cages, but that's not important right now. What is important is that cell phones ring at such a frequency that humans cannot distinguish the location from whence the ring comes, which is why when a cellphone rings in a semi-crowded or crowded room, several people at all different areas of the room will check to see if it's theirs. Thanks, Sarah, now I know! And knowing is half the battle. The other half is carsasm.)
So all that aside, I really just wanted to express that it's such a peaceful, wonderful thing to have these two cats running around.
And their owners are two of the neatest, most hospitible people I know, to boot!
Darrin is a flight-simulator technician and around Christmas of '96 he brought me to his workplace and let me fly one of those babies. I crashed it once, and I managed to complete the flight (thanks to a great deal of work on Darrin's part, but don't tell him I know that) the second time. Renee sat in the back playing with the controls to make it storm and stuff. What a great night. Half of why Atlanta feels like home to me is because these two are here and I get to visit them each time I'm in town. That's interesting, because they don't really feel completely at home now and once they both graduate from their re-college-ing with new degrees that will let them work in other areas if they want to, they'll very likely end up moving elsewhere.. the sky's the limit.
Andy's rubbing his head against my wallet/planner now, as if it's gonna scratch his head. Silly cat.
Meanwhile, I'm having a great time in Atlanta and I really will post more about my trip and some random thoughts and the various adventures I've been on over the next couple of days. It's nice being online late at night, too, 'cause that's really my hour and the time that I used to always get on. Of course, I used to have friends on at this hour, too, and what friends I still do have that still are on at this hour are not people I still know how to get in touch with at this hour.
Geepers.. I hope I can get a computer set up at home sometime soon.
Character Sketch --Josiah Billingsley Weston
Josiah B. Weston leaned against the wall in his usual comfortable style. Even those in the room that were not in the group around him knew he was there. They did not have to be looking to know. He had that much presence. Each time he walked into a room, people could just feel him come in, whether or not they had ever met him before. He was special and as such stood out from the crowd.
A stranger walked by the gap in the circle and complimented Josiah on his rectangular, thin-framed glasses - the glasses casually placed in front of his deep greenish-gray eyes. On some days, especially when the sky is cloudy, people lucky enough to make extended eye contact with Josiah would almost think his eyes had smoke mixing fluidly with the color. The effect was mesmerizing, making it nearly impossible to look away. On clear days or when Jo, as he was known to most people, was excited or passionate about anything, the smoke disappeared completely and the green was such a clear, bright jade that you almost felt like you could breathe it in. Jo stepped away from the wall and brushed some of his curly, chocolate brown hair away from the medium beige skin on his face. Someone in the circle was relating a story about her cat's adventure, and the crowd was graced with the easy, natural, yet brilliant smile of the Weston family. Although Josiah got his smile and surname from his father's English ancestors, almost everything else about him came from his Celtic maternal side. In fact, his father had a number of Irish and Scottish ancestors, as well, which only increased the strength of Josiah's Celtic heritage.
Like one of his most well known though distant relatives, St. Patrick, Josiah was strongly devoted to his faith in Christ. Indeed, he reflected each day on the man for whom he had been named, the Biblical Josiah. Actually, he attempted to live each day glorifying God even more than King Josiah had done, and spent much time in service to others.
However, there were those nights, usually around 3 a.m., when Josiah did not feel so compelled to put others before himself or did not feel as comfortable with himself as he usually did. He had a habit of, as Fleming and John put it, "writing letters in his head". He would think of all the ways he could have responded differently to situations: what snide or sarcastic remark he could have added, or how he could have really told someone off for being unreasonably hostile. He had regrets, indeed, and also wrote letters apologizing to people that he had offended, hurt, or otherwise slighted. Even with so many letters written in his head, few were ever written on paper. No matter what Josiah thought about the night before, or how long he had lain there thinking about various situations, he was still the easy-going guy with a dry and appreciative sense of humor the next day. He was not the most popular person in school, but was certainly well respected and in demand.
"Hey Bill." A younger guy from the cross-country team waved. Few runners on the team went by their first names to teammates. Instead, usually some variation of their middle or last names, or an aptly given nickname was chosen. For Josiah, the team decided his middle name, Billingsley, was an excellent choice. Most of the team members shortened it to Bill, but the coach usually called him Billingsley. To his other friends, it was usually Jo, while his relatives rarely used any nicknames with each other.
Jo waved and smiled back. He then turned to the few remaining members of the group in the student center, bid them farewell 'till Wednesday, and walked off to class.
Monday, March 04, 2002
But for now, it's really late and I'm exhausted (in a great way) and I'm gonna go sleep well.
I've got a list of things in my wallet that I need to blog on. That is, the list is in my wallet.. not the things I need to blog about. That's two sentences in a row I ended in propositions. Silley me.
Goodnight, everyone. Hope you're all having as great a week as I am.
Friday, March 01, 2002
As of this moment, I'm about to leave on spring break.
I'm going to go to English class just long enough to talk to my teacher a little .. I presented a short-story explication on Wednesday, and today's agenda is for more people to do the same thing. Normally, I'd consider it rude for me not to stay around for theirs, but this time I'm overwhelmed with out-of-school work that needs to get done before I leave, and I'm considering it a justifiable exception.
I'll post my most recently graded assignment -- my character sketch -- here for your reading pleasure sometime during break.
I've got no over-break homework that I haven't yet done in Communications or Computers. I've got a few journals to write for English, and may end up making a thing or two for ceramics.. but probably not. I'm not even sure where the clay I brought home is, actually. Which is ok, because our kiln's never gonna get fixed anyway. Oh, was that the pessimist in me talking? Hehe.. sorry. It's just a bit discouraging watching the projects pile up and never getting to finish them.
Anyway.. this is my plan for spring break:
Today -- leave town, hit the new Sonic on the way to DC. Get to Jammin' Java, in DC, around 5:30 or 6. Watch the Christopher Williams concert there tonight. Stay with a very fun online friend and her family.
Tomorrow -- drive to Atlanta. Stay with good friends Renee and Darrin. Relax, enjoy my visit.
Rest of break -- visit more with eenerni, her hubby, and various and sundry other friends in the Atlanta area. Eat at The Dwarf House, which is the original chic-fil-a of Atlanta .. 'cept that it's a sit-down restaurant and actually serves hamburgers. How novel! Visit Eddie's Attic, which I've been told is the best concert venue ever, especially for indie folk musicians. This will be my first time there. Do all sorts of other crazy and fun stuff and see all sorts of crazy and fun people. Yay!
Saturday or Sunday after this weekend -- drive back home. Maybe get to go to church here? Go back to school. And there's something about me that's not terribly saddened by the fact that this is a temporary break and I'll be going back. There's the little voice that wants to say "drat.. school".. but for the most part, I'm really enjoying this semester and am all about coming back after break.
This is a good feeling.
You all have a wonderful time while I'm gone. ;) I may get on and post a little bit.. especially the character sketch and whatnot. But other than that..
God bless ya'll!
Hippie: (after hearing Max wants to avoid the draft)You still have options man.
"So how do i do normal
"It's been known for a train to jump its track. It's ok, so you'll know, most times they come back. It's ok to lose your life, when you finally see your birth. It's ok to say, "I love you," and figure sometimes it's gonna hurt.
"As a comedian, you have to start the show strong and you have end the show strong. Those are the two key elements. You can't be like pancakes, all exciting at first, but then by the end you're sick of 'em!"
"Hey, this is weird! I ordered one frozen yogurt and they gave me two. You don't happen to like frozen yogurt, do you?" "I love it!" "You're kidding! What a crazy random happenstance!"
"Only one more trip," said a gallant seaman,
"It was Flannery O'Connor who said that 'grace must wound before it heals.' Her words help me to separate what is most true about life from the things we want to be true. We want life to be painless. True grace is a hard sell because in order for the human heart to understand forgiveness and love, it must first experience darkness and isolation. A life lived under the rule of grace is a life of need which allows us to receive an appreciate the gift of the giver of grace. This is why we will always have the poor with us; this is why God will not allow us to ignore injustice; this is why we are called to a life we cannot handle alone, which can and will break us in the effort to live it -- because grace must wound before it heals."
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
I thought Christmas Day would never come. But it's here at last, so Mom and Dad, the waiting's finally done. And you gotta get up, you gotta get up, you gotta get up, it's Christmas morning.
O little town of Bethlehem,
Walk humbly, son
Strings of lights above the bed
"In a little while I'll feel better
"Please tell me once again that You love me. That You love me. Please tell me once again that I matter to You and You really care. Please tell me once again that You're with me, forever. It's not that I could ever doubt you, I just love the way it sounds. I just love the way it sounds."
"Every once in a while, a bannerzen posts."
"7:30. What kind of people have to be at work at 7:30?"
have you seen my love
Traveling is significant because it takes so much effort. Either you're going to some place you love, or you're leaving some place you love. Usually it's both.
I think I have Bond's ability to get into trouble but not his ability to get out of it. Someday I'll be in some foreign country with 5 thugs with automatic rifles pointed at me, and I'll just.... fart
"You had no alternative .. We must work in the world. The world is thus." --- "No .. Thus have we made the world."
The summer ends and we wonder where we are And there you go, my friends, with your boxes in your car And you both look so young And last night was hard, you said You packed up every room And then you cried and went to bed But today you closed the door and said "We have to get a move on. It's just that time of year when we push ourselves ahead, We push ourselves ahead."
Looking out the bedroom at this snowy TV.. ever since commencement, no one's asking 'bout me. But I bet before the night falls, I could catch the late bus.. take small provisions and this Beethoven bust. I could find work in the outskirts of the city, eat some fish on the way.. befriend an old dog for a roadside pal, find a nice couch to stay -- a pull-out sofa, if you please!"
Ooh! Get me away from here I'm dying
"The trouble with folks like Brownie is they hold their life in like a bakebean fart at a Baptist cookout and only let it slip out sideways a little at a time when they think there's nobody noticing. Now that's the last thing on earth the Almighty intended. He intended all the life a man's got inside him, he should live it out just as free and strong and natural as a bird."
"Life is a phantasmagoria .. It is a pell-mell of confused and tumultuous scenes. We try in vain to find a purpose - to bring an order, a unity to life. I suppose that is the appeal of art. Art is the blending of the real and the unreal, the conquering of nature. It is real enough for it to reflect life, but has the unity that life lacks."
"in time memories fade.
I've always had this feeling about Patty that she's complex and intriguing...I like Patty alot. She's got a good heart and tells terrible squirrel jokes.
"Try to remember that world-weariness isn't necessarily a bad thing. In the book of Mark, I think its Mark, Jesus looks at a blind man and sighs. Jesus sighed before even telling the man he would be healed. He sighed, and I'm not sure that there's a much more human expression of frustration than this. Faced with the horrid picture of a cursed earth and looking into the white eyes of a man blind from the day he was born, He sighed. The Creator of the universe in human form was sad "of the evils of this world," the world He created. Your Creator sighed for you in the same way before He healed you and made you His."
After the last secret's told
After the last bullet tears through flesh and bone
After the last child starves
And the last girl walks the boulevard
After the last year that's just too hard
There is love
-- Andrew Peterson, After the Last Tear Falls
"when you most need people, you don't need perfection - just to know someone gives a damn"
"My brother's always [telling me], 'You should be more mysterious--boys like that.' But I'm not good at that. It would just make me more uncomfortable."
"Loners want to kill you, but not for any particular reason, and they'd probably like you if they weren't being guided by the violent voices in their head."
"No one wants to oil a snake these days!"
Her mom: "We're all safe."
-- Jamie Bevill and her mother during Christmas-Decorating dinner, December 20, 2002
i'd throw out all my shoes
i'd set up cans for friends
to dump their shoes senseless shoes
a pioneer of callouses
lordy-be and bless my soul
i'd be a barefoot spaceman
the first you'd ever know"
"The best way to have God's will for your life is to have no will of your own!"
"Generations circle and each one atones. The sins of the father are seperate from my own. In Pilgrim's Progress, it's forgiveness that makes whole, and as time levels and consoles, I place the daisies in your bowl."
"For a moment he just stared at her. Then, with an urf-urf-urf of laughter, he turned back to the controls."
"It's on the internet.. so, then, it must be true."
"Be at least as interested in what people can become as you are in what they have been."
Blessed be the rock stars!"
Get up for the shower.. wash and scrub and scour every part as if a cleaner man could better bear the shame..
"She was eating gnarly amounts of calcium."
Homeless man to girl trying to give him money: "No, thanks, ma'am. I never work on Sundays."
"Wow! I never thought I'd need a radar-guided spatula!"
"Isn't it great that I articulate? Isn't it grand that you can understand? ... I can talk, I can talk, I can talk!"
I believe that people laugh at coincidence as a way of relegating it to the realm of the absurd and of therefore not having to take seriously the possibility that there is a lot more going on in our lives than we either know or care to know... I suspect that part of it, anyway, is that every once and so often we hear a whisper from the wings that goes something like this: "You've turned up in the right place at the right time. You're doing fine. Don't ever think that you've been forgotten.
When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of "No answer." It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, "Peace, child; you don't understand."
CCM: You've spoken a lot more about crying than I ever thought you would.
"Youth is not a period of time. It is a state of mind, a result of the will, a quality of the imagination, a victory of courage over timidity, of the taste for adventure over the love of comfort. A man doesn't grow old because he has lived a certain number of years. A man grows old when he deserts his ideal. The years may wrinkle his skin, but deserting his ideal wrinkles his soul. Preoccuptaions, fears, doubts, and despair are the enemies which slowly bow us toward earth and turn us into dust before death. You will remain young as long as you are open to what is beautiful, good, and great; receptive to the messages of other men and women, of nature and of God. If one day you should become bitter, pessimistic, and gnawed by despair, may God have mercy on your old man's soul."
""Don't go matchmaking for me, Ilse," said Emily wit a faint smile... "I feel in my bones that I shall achieve old-maidenhood, which is an entirely different thing from having old-maidenhood thrust upon you."
"I wish Aunt Elizabeth would let me go to Shrewsbury, but I fear she never will. She feels she can't trust me out of her sight because my mother eloped. But she need not be afraid I will ever elope. I have made up my mind that I will never marry. I shall be wedded to my art"
"Tomorrow seems like a long ways away. But it will come, just like any other day... Deep inside, where the wounded creatures hide, I am afraid. Maybe I got lost somewhere along the way somehow. Please rescue me... Yea, though I walk through the valley of the dark shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For you are with me... Though I fear, though I am afraid, You are with me. Though I'm angry, tired, broken down and confused, You are with me. Though I sin like I've never sinned before, lose myself right out an open door, You are with me."
"The invisible people agreed about everything. Indeed most of their remarks were the sort it would not be easy to disagree with: "What I always say is, when a chap's hungry, he likes some victuals," or "Getting dark now; always does at night," or even "Ah, you've come over the water. Powerful wet stuff, ain't it?"" -- C. S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
"When People object... that if Jesus was God as well as Man, then He had an unfair advantage which deprives Him for them of all value, it seems to me as if a man struggling in the water should refuse a rope thrown to him by another who had one foot on the bank, saying, "Oh but you had an unfair advantage." It is because of His advantage that He can help."
"But, you know, as a Christian, one of the big questions you always ask yourself is, "So we believe in Jesus, we believe in the teachings of the church, but what does that look like when it's lived out?" Because surely, one of the things that Jesus said that I think we often overlook is, "The person who hears my words and does them is like the wise man who built his house on the rock." He didn't say "the person who hears my words and thinks about 'em" or "whoever hears my words and agrees with it." But he said, "Whoever hears it and does it."
"find that which gives you breath and grants you more to give
"I have packed all my belongings. I don't belong here anymore. This pair of sandles, one pack to carry, this old guitar and this tattered old Bible. And I know I won't be afraid. 'cause I know, I know Home is where You are."
"Open up your weepy eyes, everyone is dancing. Angels peer through sweet disguise, through a fire of cleansing.
"You may be bruised and torn and broken, but
"I don't deserve to speak, and they don't deserve
to hear it. It's makin' me believe that it's not
"Kickin' against these goads sure did cut up my
feet. Didn't your hands get bloody as you washed
"They say God blessed us with plenty. I say
you?re blessed with poverty. ?Cause you never
stop to wonder whether earth is just a little
better than the Land of the Free"
"Computers will know everything in the 21st
century. They'll be like me in the 20th