spending...

I've written more than one half post in the past week. Unfortuantly, whenever I find a few minutes to reutrn and present the other half, I am completely lost and unable to complete whatever thoughts were on my mind.

I recieved a letter in the mail today from my Favorite, and she encouraged me [like she always does] to be waste my life just existing. To live and to exist are two very different things. Are you living?

I think I'm living right now. I'm physically drained and exhausted, but I'm so spiritually and emotionally full. Jesus is not a feeling, my friends. A relationship with Him means so much more. Higher, deeper, stronger.

We're ten days from opening night of production, I seriously have more homework than is physically possible to complete [all those other times i've told you that, i was probably lying and just being a slacker. this time i'm not kidding], I really need to sleep sometime soon or I'm going to completely crash and be worthless for several days, but I'm strangely happy. And it's not even the "i don't care anymore" happy. It's real happy. And it doesn't make sense.

i am ruined for this world
for none compares to you my Lord
for you have captured me
completely captured me

Yesterday afternoon, I needed to take a break from homework, but I couldn't justify sleeping [i need to start justifying more sleep. any suggestions?] so I started a mad cleaning of my room. [i'm pretty much obsessive compulsive about cleaning our fridge. which is a good thing] Little did I know that I would find...treasure!

A box of crayons, hastily and impulsively
brought from home, never used.
A blank piece of paper.
Sunday afternoon dreams.

Aside from a relationship with Jesus, I recommend crayons. [Though, I did have one question... why does my purple crayon say "violet (purple)" on it? Does Mr. Crayola think that I won't know that violet is purple? And if so, why did he even bother to write both names? Why didn't he just call it "purple" in the first place?]

It's officially nineteen days until I return to my homeland. And though it is true [shock - i'm admitting it] that I really do live in Michigan eight months out of the year [home is where your toothbrush is, right wendy?], I will always, always be a Portland girl: rain, coffee, and mountains are all I need. [i'll admit, this white stuff is pretty fun too, though. there's rumor of six to ten inches over the next twenty-four hours, and at the rate it's currently coming down, it'll happen]

the inherent power of the Holy Spirit is yours to spend. spend it all.

all that jazz...

[previously, in a hallway of the Sage Center for the Performing Arts]

As I'm sitting outside of the Black Box [theatre] tonight, relaxing, the cheerful strains of the Big Band Jazz fill me with inspiration.

I'm probably too relaxed. I haven't really studied Greek all weekend, and right now I'm writing a blogpost instead of studying or memorizing my lines. We go off-book tonight, but I think I'll do okay. It's a "relaxed off-book run-through," which basically means that James won't kill us if we don't remember everything. [at least, not tonight. the killing-if-you-keep-forgetting-lines rehersals start tomorrow. whoop]

Anyway, I'm loving the sounds of the swing club practicing in the room behind me. *happy sigh* Swing music is so awesome. I could just sit at a table in a classy restaurant and listen to it forever. [more champagne, daahhhhling?] And someday I am going to dress up and play Audrey Hepburn and be the most beautiful, collected, irresistable lady ever and go to a classy restaurant and listen to jazz and wait for Cary Grant to show up. [they do still make those kinds of restaurant, right?]

I love the expressive artistry of Jazz. I love how it showcases collective, yet individual, talent. Talk about some boys with serious skills... I could draw some kind of cheesy life-metaphor from this combination of artistic freedom and unity, but I'll spare you...

Yeah. I like Jazz.
[i also think i really like random french pop music]

I also like fresh snow. Some disagree, but I think Hillsdale is at it's physical best when lightly covered with a couple of inches. There's also the do-something-new-that-nobody-has-ever-done-in-this-spot-before element [garden state. sigh] in the snow. I walked across the Waterman law on the way here, trailing behind me the first set of footprints. Ever. [later, when i got home, i saw that other people had followed my lead. ha! i thought, they only did that because i did it first.] I like the simple things. [french pop is not simple, but i like it anyway]

Goodnight, moon. Goodnight, mouse. Goodnight, house.

Goodnight, frog.
goodnight, blog.

the art in me...

I have the most amazing Bible study [leader] ever.

I love learning more about my precious Jesus with those girls. I love our theological tangents and meetings that last too long. I love worship and being quiet. I love real prayers. I love honest faces.

I love that Artist stops in the middle of a sentence and says, 'don't move! the lighting is perfect.' and gets her camera. [apparently, the right lighting makes even me photogenic]

in your picture book i'm trying hard to see
turning endless pages of this tragedy
sculpting every move you compose a symphony
you plead to everyone, see the art in me

Lord, teach me to see the art in people. To love them like You love them.

I've been reading Isaiah and the salvation and love in chapter 59 stood out to me yesterday: without a personal relationship with Jesus, we are in a hopeless state.

Therefore justice is far from us,
Nor does righteousness overtake us;
We look for light, but there is darkness!
For brightness, but we walk in blackness! (9)

We look for justice , but there is none;
For salvation, but it is far from us.
For our transgressions are multiplied before You. (11-12)

But, it doesn't end there! We are not left in a hopeless state!

Then the Lord saw it and
it displeased Him that there was no justice.
He saw that there was no man... no intercessor;
Therefore His own arm bought salvation (15-16)

One main element of Jesus' life on earth was His compassion. He knows that we are in a helpless state, full of pride and disobedience and blind to His ways, and so He Himself brought redemption. No other thing could restore us to Him. This is how much He loves.

oh Lord, i give you all i have
but it seems so little
when you have given me so much
oh Lord, your love is new every morning
Your faithfulness gets me through the night

Overwhelmed at the glory of His grace.

the best card...

I got mail today.

By far the best mail received [the best valentine's salutation ever] was sent from a certain someone in Virginia...

My dear Emily,
Please pardon the unconventional Valentine's Day card. [carefully colored-penciled drawing of a human heart] Frankly, I didn't want this to be a conventional Valentine's card. i don't want you to be mine; I assume you don't want me to be yours; and I have no idea how being each other's would benefit us anyway. So, please don't be my Valentine.
But, I do want to thank you for being a great friend...

Thank you, Will, for the lovely card. It was perfect. Let's hang out and make movies sometime, okay?

I have the greatest friends ever...

the continuation...

The walk of last night was not the end. In fact, it was really only a nice beginning to a wonderful, indescribable time...

I don't even know why I'm bothering to write...there are no words to do last night any justice.

oh, we're like sinking stones
all that we've fought for
all those places we've gone
all of us are done for
but we live in a beautiful world

I appreciate honesty. Honesty and I went out last last night. [she's pretty good looking, that honesty...] We snuck into the Arb and pulled an Eternal Sunshine.

Of course, we had an adventure down the slippery, uneven rock steps in the dark, but adventure is a good thing. We took turns going first and calling back 'oops, that was a step there,' and 'oof! watch this patch of ice.'

'are you sure the pond is frozen, honesty? even though it's been warm?'
'of course i am.'

I had to jump up and down a little to make sure. We laid down and just looked at the stars. A mutual silence can sometimes be better than a thousand words.

'i wonder how many of those stars are really still there... and how many burned out a hundred years ago.'
'i think the sky is really a tarp. and those light spots are holes.'

More blissful silence.

'i could die right now, clem. i'm just...happy. i've never felt that before. i'm just exactly where i want to be.'

Laughter.

'the silence is so loud. i remember my dad teaching us how to listen to the silence. we were up picking huckleberries on mount adams in washington.'
'i'm cold, get up.'

'let's yell.'
'i don't know. i'm too scared. i'd hold back.'
'no, we should do it. don't hold back.'
'okay. i'm so nervous.'

Five, four, three, two, one, Garden State.

'did you hold back? don't hold back.'
'i don't think so. but let's make sure.'

Five, four, three, two, one, again.

oh, all i know
there's nothing here to run from
and there, everybody here's
got somebody

Thank you, Honesty, for being my somebody.

restless tonight...

Don't you hate when your little vices appear more frequently?

so let go, let go
jump in
what you waiting for?
it's all right
cause there's beauty
in the breakdown

We had company last night. Which, though it's lovely, sometimes it becomes more than my foolish, wandering heart can handle. The emotions were also combined with a week's worth of grade-A cabin fever and restlessness.

I had to get out... I needed to talk to Jesus, breath the fresh air, use some energy, and think. And I think best when I'm outside and moving.

Walking down a lonely country road, looking at the stars, the poetic genius abounds. [well, at least, i get really sappy] Just me, the cella, and some Vertical Horizon for cathartic comfort.

The pounding music in my ears lessens the aches, surprisingly. The stars are beautiful tonight, like always. It's disturbing how often I need to be reminded how huge this world is, and how small my insecurities really are. I love breathing the fresh outside air.

It's cold, so I walk faster. If I turned my imagination on, I could become frightened of the [scary] trees that line the road. But no, I decide resolutely, there will be no imagination tonight. Just a refreshment of the vision that I so desperately seek. I suddenly wish that I had brought my favorite worship cd instead. Vertical Horizon gets turned off. Now all I can hear are the sound of my footsteps and the swish of my courderoy pants. [okay, and some dogs barking]

Some of the houses have lights on, but most are dark. One is lit by the erie blue flashes of a television set. How could anybody want to waste a beautiful night like this? I smile at the shadowy outlines of three wire reindeer, unlit, yet still faithfully guarding the house in the middle of February.

This road is my secret. As I get closer to 'the line,' I walk even faster. I'm anxious to get there. Faster, faster, one sign, two signs... there. I passed the mark. I'm standing on the opposite side of 'Hillsdale City Limit.' Now I can breathe freely. I laugh outloud at my own sillyness. I stand there for several minutes, just enjoying the freedom of my own little world, where a roadsign makes all the difference.

Soon however, my frozen extremities remind me that there is time to enter back into reality. I'm standing on the edge of the rest of my life. How appropriate that the road is shattered by a large crack, running the whole width, right at the city limits sign. I take a deep breath and cross the line.

The walk back is a blur. I'm suddenly anxious to return. [which might have something to do with my very frozen nose] Though the circumstances haven't changed at all, my attitude has.

there's more coming...

Thank you, Jesus, for constantly shaping my heart.
I want to desire You more every day.

if i were a...

i'm currently writing a book called "my life as a hot anime kappa."
so, this is pretty much exactly how i look on weekdays.
secret agent, too. aaaaaand, i'm working on a record deal.
credit to a. ninja, esq.

new to bag end...

The homeroom walls, once white, are now mapped.

seeing darkly...

I hate, repeat, hate being sick.

Fortunantly, I'm usually a pretty healthy being; anything I don't manage to fight off only lives a day or two. Maybe it's the feeling of helplessness, lack of control? I have too much else I should be doing. I don't have time to be sick. I feel guilty resting... I should be doing something productive!

There's a time for rest, however.

I've had something since Sunday night. Not sure what exactly [i'll spare you the details], but after being excused from all obligations today and sleeping much of it, I was feeling muchly better. Until tonight.

Lying on my bed berating my weakness, I was suddenly convicted of my horrible attitude and unwillingness to rest, physically and in my spirit.

i will bless the Lord at all times;
His praise shall continually be in my mouth
oh, magnify the Lord with me,
and let us exalt His name together.
psalm 34: 1,3

There has not been much blessing, praising, magnifying, or exalting coming from my mouth the last couple of days. Just inner [and outer] complainging of my own inadequacy. I'm sorry, Lord.

The Lord is my strength, my rest, my everything. Jesus knows when I lie down, when I'm happy, when I'm successful, when I'm homesick, and when I'm reallysick. Who am I to think that my life is out of the hands of a loving, living God? Am I content to take good care of myself and still rest in the Lord in all circumstances?

A new friend inspired a rereading of Job and the end of it is especially poignant. Again and again, God reveals the truth of His greatness to Job [emily].

where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?

I was not there, Lord.

Someday, I'll see clearly.

when it's raining on monday...

There's something so comforting to waking up to rain. I love the dreary, nwesternlike drizzle that's saturating the campus right now. It's fun to walk in the rain, breathe the clean air, and watch the last of the snow dissolve. It's cathartic. [and it's also humerous to watch certain 'ridic' females stumble around in their pointy-pumps and worry about their hair. ha!]

Except, of course, when you're flu-ish [i caught it from talking to m. on the phone the other day or maybe the blog of kates. not sure], your stomach is toying with the idea of expelling its contents, you have two papers to write, a mountain of work in the office that cannot be ignored, hours of Greek and a big test on Friday, another walk up the hill [aqueduct] for class in a couple of hours, and three hours of rehersal to look forward to tonight. ["ill, but surprisingly...upbeat!"]

we're trading all our love
for tea and sympathy

send hugs. send a couple extra hours to sleep. and some vegetable soup.

mom?

update: since my amazing mom is 2100 miles away, i got the next best thing. the astonishing mrs. c heard i was sick and left a bucket of homemade, fresh chicken noodle soup in front of my door. [when was the last time one of your professor's wives did that for you?! uh huh!] and then my cousin called and asked if he could make me some soup, too! do i have it good or what! [okay, except for the fact that i'm too sick to eat any of it right now...arrgh]

instead of...

One year ago, instead of watching the Super Bowl, I made music videos with Stephanie, Will, Colten, and Elizabeth.

Today, instead of watching the Super Bowl, I talked to Kay-ris.

I do the best things instead of watching the Super Bowl.

[as promised, friday night madness. saturday night beauty is coming soon]

personality of the tuesday...

*sigh*

I seriously have the most awesome friends on the face of the planet. Sorry, everyone else, but I really do.

Tuesday's personality is definitely D-dawg, the Winkster, who not only sends me incredible [fattening] cake recipes, but lettermail, too!

Of course, being the intellectual darling that she is, the letter was both quotable and quotefilled.

In her perfect scrawl, she green-pens a C.S. Lewis quote from Out of the Silent Planet.

'But the pleasure he must be content only to remember?'
'That is like saying, "my food I must be content to eat." A pleasure is full grown only when it is remembered. You are speaking as if the pleasure we're one thing and the memory another. It is all one thing... What you call remembering is the last pleasure. When we met, the meeting was over very shortly, it was nothing. Now it is growing something as we remember it. But we still know very little about it. What it will be when I remember it as I lie down to die - what it makes in me all my days until then - that is the real meeting. The other is only the beginning of it.'

And in her own darling way, encourages, 'Don't hesitate to jump with God into the deepest rainy-day puddles...both feet!'

I love you, D. Here's to short-term Interns and long-time friends.

Since the ice is melting [figurative and literally], I'm off to find those puddles...
[speed and mud]