competing dreams...

[keeping up with mili and rose]

Last night I dreamed that I was at the zoo...

There was something about an escaped alligator chasing me, but I escaped. And then some horrible lady [who looked strangly like a larger version of dr holmes!] got locked in the cage with the alligator, and I didn't even feel bad.

And while I was there with people from school [though not really any of my friends] and a couple of my sisters, I was offered a job writing for my school newspaper. It paid really well. [far to well to be true, i'm sure] But it would require a lot of time and deadlines. I thought about it for a long time in my dream, planning the pros and cons [robotic, i know...] and figuring out if I actually had the talent to write the Opinion column and edit Letters.

I was lying in bed, half awake this morning, thinking about the job offer. I was like "gosh, i should probably pray about this." and then I realized that it was a dream. I wasn't really offered that job. So I can actually stop worrying about it, right? Good.

And then my phone rang and I wondered for a moment whether I was still dreaming...I was honestly half expecting to hear a dialtone when I answered it. But at least that was real.

i could hear your smile
before you even said a word

some quality...

Don't you find it strange when someone else's words speak the thoughts milling around unformed and undefined in your head? When God lays a message on someone else's heart, and the communicates it through electronic means to yours?

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy and will continue to post on this blog. It's my online notebook and a great way to communicate. But in my goals prayerfully considered for this semester, "breaking out" seems to be a theme. And it's going to take commitment, time, and effort. It is, however, something that God is calling me to do.

I'm not making promises or commitments about my levels of posting or AIMing. Only time will reveal, but I also can't ignore this feeling that I need to be more "here."

I've always struggled with the balance between being here and not giving up my Portland life or the Portland Emily. But, I've also believed that some resemblence to quality, not quantity, has made this blog enjoyable for myself and others. If nothing else, this is just a challenge to keep up that standard, if not to raise it.

Some things are not to be ignored.

My friends, there are relationships to deepen, there is Scripture to read, there is fresh air to breath, there is tennis to play, there are children to laugh and play with, there are great books to read, there are conversations and discussions to be had. [there is homework to be done, challenges to face, and life to be enjoyed, where ever you are right now.]... Cheat all our so-called productivity and light-speed communication so that the stuff of real life - the stuff that really matters to us - isn't cheated. [full text]

I can't wait to see what this semester brings for all of us. I can't wait to read about it and talk about it. And, at the end of the day, remember the people and things that really matter to you. Don't cheat those things.

fin.

wordly reinventions...

whew.

That took a lot longer that I was hoping.

Fortunantly, dear faithful Penelope is back in my posession, and appears to be doing well. I have a strange suspicion that if I had simply cared for her myself instead of shipping her off to the wild untamed lands of ITS, she would have been cured just as quickly. But, what's done is done and she has forgiven me completely. For the moment, at least.

And so, I may now entertain [bore] you all with something which I have been very excited to present:

that which happens to be magnetically attached to my fridge [part 1a].
[please note that my lowbrow definition of genius has no comparison to the words of miss emma "peel"]

under the heading Silhouette Impression Studios you find phrases full of meaning. such as

observe, her monument
in harmony.

imagine the glorious expirament
of every original canvas...

capture fashion,
investigate music,
perform color,
...and write soon.

[and my personal favorite, so full of genuine meaning (and punctuation!) for me and perhaps mystery for some of you]

me,
he.
my...
if?

Despite the slightly unexpected additional challenges of this semester's two thousand miles, I'm glad to be here. Yes, kids, it's somehow oh, so very good to be back.

farewell, tuesday...

Today was just the weirdest day ever. Full of changes-of-plans, missed people, returns, people in strange places, amazing moments, finding people, and changes of address.

I'll write about it all tomorrow.

[goodnight from San Diego. the mexican food here is excellent, as always]

some things have to be...

Once again, I find myself methodically doing that which I dread.

Packing used to mean adventure. These days, it just means leaving. Again.

Slowly climbing back up the basement stairs, bearing the burden of my well-traveled purple luggage, I realized that nearly a year ago, I was doing the same motions. Could it really be a whole year has passed? Who was that girl that I see in my memory doing these very things?

The suitcase is positioned in the tiny corner of the hall outside my door. Slowly over the next three days, it will be filled with pieces of my existence, both old and new. [starting with the new birthday tennis racket. i love it so much] So far, some mod-podge [to keep me artsy and sane], a book to return to my Grandma's, and my leather shoe oil are the only other contents of the large purple [easy to spot on the luggage carousel] suitcase.

There's a box sitting in my dining room with my name and a strangely familiar, yet very foreign zip code on it. I made a bright blue tag, hoping that it would help me be more cheerful. [still waiting for that one to kick in]

And yet, in leaving, I'm also returning. I'm returning to the familiar and the comfortable. My pillows and posters and down comforter. Strange that I could be so torn. [still 7/8 portland girl, though] Somehow, I know that once I get there, so much more will make sense.

I'm looking forward to the faces [tb, ke, ah, kp, ts, jm, dm, et, and all the rest], but not the homework.

I'm anxious about Miss Aubrey Calligan, freshman unknown.

in Your love i find release
a haven from my unbelief

It's the transitions that are difficult. Moving a delicate plant from one world to another is a risk. But if I make it through the winter, I'm sure I'll bloom again in the spring.

Maybe leaving can be an adventure, too...

my [office] space...

Tomorrow being my last day of work at Airway, I wanted to post a tribute to my best work friend of the Summer. Though our relationship began with much suspicous eying of each other, all preconceived ideas were removed within the first week of our acquaintance.

To tell you the truth, I was afraid of him at first. A sleek, shiny-black little fighter, [the "Swingline" model] capable of penetrating up to 25 sheets at a time without breaking a sweat. But then I discovered that we have much in common. He's originally from Illinois and doesn't think much of the Midwest either.

Strange to come to that place at the end of your Summer Job when you realize that you'll miss: a. your excellent weekly paycheck and b. your stapler.

I'm tempted to smuggle him out of the building [without burning it down, however] or throw a fit-ala-Lucy-Kelson and keep him with me at school. But somehow, as good as he is, a stuffed animal or my round pillow will probably be better comfort. And he's happier here, where he'll get more use. I just don't staple enough at school.

put on my blue suede shoes
and i boarded a plane
touched down in the land of
the [sun and palm trees]
in the middle of the pouring rain

on [black] Tuesday, that is.