don't be cool...

One of my friends recently challenged me to rethink my definition of cool. Christians have a tendency to be obsessed with being cool, in our Christian way, of course.

We're "cool" Christians who are in a Christian band, reaching out to "cool" people, wearing "cool" clothes which are more modest than the world, but still "cool," and are generally focused on always having a "cool" time with "cool" kids who also love Jesus. The emerging church is a generation of "cool."

But are we anything more than that? We attempt to be involved in our culture, while remaining distant in appearance. We have created our own sub-cultures, but do we really love our neighbor?

Don't get me wrong. I am so excited about the life that I see in my generation. But there's so much more to it than just making Christianity cool and acceptable to your group of college friends.

I was so convicted by this quote from an article that Josh posted.

"There’s a kind of cowardice out there, a feeling that the culture has won, and we’d better make friends with it, we’d better appear hip at all costs. That was never Jesus’ way. Jesus always spoke the truth in love, and he didn’t care what people thought of him. If you speak the truth in love you don’t have to worry about what people are thinking. If you speak the truth in love you are the definition of cool. Getting a few piercings and wearing a soul patch will only take you so far. At some point you have to know who you are and what you believe in and say so. That’s what people are looking for and that’s what they’ll respond to" [eric metaxas].

Being cool is so engrained into my life. I like having fun with my style, but it cannot come at the expense of living the gospel completely. I want to be real with people, not just have them think I'm cool.

boring old post...

I have gotten boring. All I can write about right now is the weather, food that I cook/eat, and school. I promise that when I get back to Portland in thirteen days, I will have glorious adventures to recreate for you.

I'm watching my cousin play Lord of the Rings; I should be doing my reading. At least I know that if we don't finish the reading, we go down together since we're the only two people in the class.

We've been visiting good friends in Lansing this weekend. It's sweet to hang out in a real house and eat good food. Shopping this afternoon. I don't really like anything that the Gap has right now, but would contemplate murder [can you tell that we played 'family business' last night? joel just barely beat me] for everything in Ann Taylor Loft and Banana. And there's this dress at JCrew that I vowed to buy if I found $40 on the sidewalk. So far, though, the dress is still in the store.

We went to P.F. Chang's for dinner. I had heard some negative reviews, but this place was awesome. Good service, excellent [not greasy] food, and priced like an Outback or Olive Garden. I'm definitely going to have to try the one in the Pearl. Great date atmosphere...

I have less money in my bank account than I have had since I was fourteen. That is so weird. It's actually really unnerving. Money = power, and I really don't even have the possibility of power anymore.

Off to spend some time in the creative and slightly outrageous world of Eudora Welty.
Here's to the weekend!

not as depressing as the weather...

I wrote a depressing 'goodbye' post on Saturday night, but decided to spare you the angst. Talitha was my last bff to leave campus today. But I will get to see most of them sometime during these next three weeks, except for Mary, who ran off to London/Yorkshire/Paris/Rome [lucky duck].

I seem to be writing a lot about goodbyes and changes. Every four months, there's some guarenteed change in my community or place of primary residence. People who don't go to college really far away miss out on all of this. Sometimes I envy them, other times I'm really glad that I get to experience so many different worlds.

The weather is officially Portland in January. Seriously. It's 45 and raining and miserable. Not exactly how I had planned to spend my three weeks of summer school, but then again, it could be that the weather is coordinating with my reading today. I'm going to go back to my sweet [off campus!] house and snuggle up with Misters Poe [Ligeia] and Irving [Sleepy Hollow].

My cousin Joel and I are the only ones in the class [the american short story]. Did you know that every day of summer session is like a week of regular session classes? The reading load will be awesome though: four short stories a day. And they're all hot stories, too. We'll be into literature after 1950 by the end of the week. [wait, is that even legal at hillsdale?]

I really love short stories. Tobias Wolfe said that short stories are actually more like poetry, because every word must be intentional and purposeful. They are often snubbed as being lesser literature, but I'd usually rather have a good book of short stories than a novel.

Today, if you get a chance, you should read a short story.
Like me.

the old barn...

 

abandoned...

 

a lack of excuses...

The creative energy has completely drained from my body, as you can tell. I did a little collage work the other night, but that's about it.

My intellectual [ha] energy has been put to the test lately, though, and I ain't just talking about those finals. [two down] I'll reveal the newest thought-blog once my co-author and I get a little more work done. I feel kind of like the girl from Mean Girls, who says "Sometimes I wish I could make a cake out of rainbows and sunshine and we could all eat it and be happy." I have a lot of feelings, but hopefully this blog will be more than that.

The world is slowly turning and yet, I'm stationary in Hillsdale. Unlike all the other kids, I'm not going to be home in a week. But in twenty-nine fast ones, I'll be three credits and two thousand miles closer to home.

It's so strange to be halfway done with school. I feel like I'm a completely different person from when I started, but so much about me is the same. I still get irritated by small things, have bad habits, don't floss my teeth enough, and definitely still miss Portland and my family.

But life is constant movement. The more I study dance, the more I realize just how much it represents life. A painting is stationary and in a sense, eternal. Dance is momentary and dynamic. You experience it, then it's gone.

My Summer Reading list is ridiculously long. Who wants to hit up Powell's with me first thing?

I just realized that I'll be missing the June First Thursday by two days. So sad!

Until then, keep dancing.