best of...

[2008]
best planet: Saturn. It has rings and I like jewelry.
best way to travel: Ferry boat
best birthday: Crazy Birthday Skit 23
best new title: College Grad
best book not read for class: Home [marilynne robinson]
best assigned book: Brideshead Revisited [evelyn waugh]
best month: Mystery Month
best grad: My Grad!
best new city: Boston
best concert: Over the Rhine
best website: Typeracer.com
best house: The Little Yellow House
best summer flick: Indiana Jones
best show: 30 Rock
best americanos: Albina Press
best apologetic: The Reason for God [Timothy Keller]
best shoes: Grey pumps
best waste of time: Twitter.com
best suite: Suite 344
best workout: Hiking Scar
best tour: East Coast Adventure Tour
best singing: Worship team with Paul and Kaysha
best hat: The Yellow Slouchy hat
best bedroom: The one on the beach at Little G's
best eats: Spring Break
best singing: Belting it out with the piano
best purchase: Brown boots
best haircut: Sarah at Blue Chair Salon
best afternoon: Saturday Afternoon
best surprise: Visit from Kates
best cd: The Submarines [You, Me & the Bourgeoisie]
best wedding: Josh and Mili!
best foreign food: Tiffin in Philadelphia
best new career given up: Temping
best trail: Freedom Trail in Boston
best jeans: Skinny Levis
best roadtrip: The Coast Weekend with Cassandra
best night: Ann Arbor with Becky
best ring: My Boccioni Pearl Ring
best cards: Letter Press Cards
best museum: The Philadelphia Museum of Art
best class: The Statesmanship of Winston Churchill
best card game: Cribbage
best relaxation: Coronado Beach
best tv: The Summer Olympics
best vegetable: Root vegetables
best thursday: Thursday Next
best starbucks: Cherrie's Starbucks
best break: Spring Break
best webzine: patrolmag.com
best party: Senior Dinner Dance
best loss: The Superbowl
best skirt: Yellow jcrew pencil
best girl with an instrument: Ingrid Michaelson
best soup: Snowed in Split Pea
best children: CBS Children
best bond: Still Casino Royale
best poet: Czeslaw Milosz
best insane 23 hour trip: JohnDavid & Elyse's wedding

how to make a snow cone...

1. Apply generous amounts of snow to the whole world. About a foot should do it.

2. Select flavor of syrup. Lime, for example.
3. Upon selecting the perfect snow [located at easy mouth level, but out of the reach of contaminants], pour flavored syrup.
4. Gather members of the family and enjoy!

newlygrads...

What with all this snow [a foot!] and lack of work [snow days and christmas vacation days - i still have a job], it feels a lot like I'm still in Hillsdale. As the memories of long tormented nights and petty social frustrations fade, the Ghost of College Past is flourishing. As I read this bit from A Severe Mercy, I couldn't help but think of the best of conversations and company.

...We had decided from the first to reach out to or draw in all we could of the extraordinary richness of the great university round us. In a way all of us at [college] knew, knew as an undercurrent in our minds, that it wouldn't last for ever. Lew and Mary Ann expressed it one night by saying: "This, you know, is a time of taking in - taking in friendship, conversation, gaiety, wisdom, knowledge, beauty, holiness - and later, well, there'll be a time of giving out." Later, when we were scattered about the world. Now we must store up the strength, the riches, all that [college] had given us, to sustain us after...

I hope the giving out is going well for everyone. Sometimes I miss that place and you people more than anything. I'm told that as I get more established into "the life after," that it will fade, but I hope that the memories only get better.

[/end sappiness]

waiting ten...

In every place I have ever lived/visited [specifically: southern california, portland, the northwest in general, georgia, the south in general, virginia, michigan, and new england], I have heard people say: "Well, that's the weather in __________ for you! If you don't like it, wait ten minutes!"

Do you think that is true of everywhere? Why do we all still say it? Am I the only one who has noticed this?

parse this...

As part of my highly nebulous Administrative Assistant career, I open and sort the mail. While you are unlikely to believe that this is the most exciting part of my day [it's not. and it usually takes up a large amount of time which i would prefer to devote to more impressive tasks], occasionally I do pull something interesting out of an envelope. Today I found something so fantastically bad that it was spared the all-powerful-shredder.

With the economic downturn, many businesses are having to work a little harder than usual to get clients. As a result, small businesses are apparently turning to the "old fashioned write 'em a letter" trick. Some people even employ Graphic Artists to mail out their resume to every address that shows up in a generic google like "property management." Unfortunately, the following company did not employ a starving Graphic Artist or starving English Major, as evidenced by sentences like this: With well over twenty years of experience in flat and low pitch roof application and repair you can be assured of an educated evaluation and the most logical recommendation for repairs and mainenance that can assist in an extended roof life.

I am currently having flashbacks of editing due-in-one-hour-and-i-still-need-300-words freshman papers. [man, i was a great ra]

Of course, I can see the good intentions behind statements like: When we see a roof in older condition we are excited to see how long we can keep this roof going. He probably knows his roofs and works hard.

But parsing this stuff is not for the faint of heart/mind. I give you the penultimate masterpiece: Most commercial roof systems appear to look the same all over and it is sometimes hard for the untrained eye to pick up on even a simple problem, that is why you need me to personally walk the roof deck and view the condition and the problems that are apparent and to discover the hidden problems not so easily seen.

From the top of the page, with the unnecessarily quoted motto "Our Company is Insured" to the final sentence - If your contract says ________________ then that's whose doing your job - this ad is a mess. If I needed a commercial roof, it might be worth a pity hire.

So thanks, College, for forgiving our pitiful freshman [and let's be honest, senior] attempts with the Thesauraus and Word Count. Thanks for instilling in us the ways of proper word usage and The Elements of Style. We can't roof buildings, but we could sure write about them with flair.

useful...

My coworkers frequently ask me to settle grammar disputes.

Maybe my useless major is being appreciated by the work world after all!

[and a most happiest of superlative birthdays to my dear schmol]

darlin', christmas is coming...

On my way home from work I saw two houses being decked with lights, I can't stop listening to this cd, and tonight we made it official...my mom made fudge. It is Christmastime!

I am thankful that I can focus on people and not finals this season. I am thankful that I have a job I enjoy, people I like to spend my days with, and a safe place to land.

practically holy...

For those of you who doubt the hygiene habits of my current household, I present the following note, which appeared taped to our bathroom mirror last week:
Question: Is someone eating the soap? We are currently using an average of three bars a week. Too many! Love, Mom

you are so wise, w.p...

"One of the peculiar ironies of being a human self in the Cosmos: A stranger approaching you in the street will in a second's glance see you whole, size you up, place you in a way in which you cannot and never will, even though you have spent a lifetime with yourself, live in the Century of the Self, and therefore ought to know yourself best of all.

The question is: Why is it that your entire lifetime you will never be able to size yourself up as you can size up somebody else - or size up Saturn - in a ten-second look?

Why is it that the look of another person looking at you is different from everything else in the Cosmos? That is to say, looking at lions or tigers or Saturn or the Ring Nebula or at an owl or at a person from the side is one thing, but finding yourself looking into the eyes of another person looking at you is something else. And why is it that one can look at a lion or a planet or an owl or at someone's finger as long as one pleases, but looking into the eyes of another person is, if prolonged past a second, a perilous affair?"
[walker percy, lost in the cosmos]

You must read.

When your brain hurts from thinking hard about numbers, it is an entirely different feeling than when your brain hurts from thinking about words.

subterfuge...

Today as I was running down 21st in the rain, late for my hair appointment because of the ridiculous lack of parking in NW and my ridiculous lack of parallel parking skills, I met a large pile of leaves on the curb, which was actually a cleverly disguised puddle.

My nice black heels are bad luck, apparently. If it's not mud, it's muddy leaf water.

But my hair looks great and I'm going to see Ingrid tonight.
Can't catch me now, World.

how to like it...

I generally keep this blog free of excessive quotes, but I have to make an exception for this poem. I can't stop reading it. It is a lost version of something hilarious and poignant. I've been reading poetry like crazy this fall, jumping back and forth between mystery and music, enjoying the challenge of something difficult that no Professor is making me study. Overall, it doesn't matter what I do during my work day, because at the end of the day, I can read things like this.

Literature take me outside of myself. And so I read:

These are the first days of fall. The wind
at evening smells of roads still to be traveled,
while the sound of leaves blowing across the lawns
is like an unsettled feeling in the blood,
the desire to get in a car and just keep driving.
A man and a dog descend their front steps.
The dog says, Let's go downtown and get crazy drunk.
Let's tip over all the trashcans we can find.
This is how dogs deal with the prospect of change.
But in his sense of the season, the man is struck
by the oppressiveness of his past, how his memories
which were shifting and fluid have grown more solid
until it seems he can see remembered faces
caught up among the dark places in the trees.
The dog says, Let's pick up some girls and just
rip off their clothes. Let's dig holes everywhere.
Above his house, the man notices wisps of cloud
crossing the face of the moon. Like in a movie,
he says to himself, a movie about a person
leaving on a journey. He looks down the street
to the hills outside of town and finds the cut
where the road heads north. He thinks of driving
on that road and the dusty smell of the car
heater, which hasn't been used since last winter.
The dog says, Let's go down to the diner and sniff
people's legs. Let's stuff ourselves on burgers.
In the man's mind, the road is empty and dark.
Pine trees press down to the edge of the shoulder,
where the eyes of animals, fixed in his headlights,
shine like small cautions against the night.
Sometimes a passing truck makes his whole car shake.
The dog says, Let's go to sleep. Let's lie down
by the fire and put our tails over our noses.
But the man wants to drive all night, crossing
one state line after another, and never stop
until the sun creeps into his rearview mirror.
Then he'll pull over and rest awhile before
starting again, and at dusk he'll crest a hill
and there, filing a valley, will be the lights
of a city entirely new to him.
But the dogs says, Let's just go back inside.
Let's not do anything tonight. So they
walk back up the sidewalk to the front steps.
How is it possible to want so many things
and still want nothing? The man wants to sleep
and wants to hit his head again and again
against a wall. Why is it all so difficult?
But the dog says, Let's go make a sandwich.
Let's make the tallest sandwich anyone's ever seen.
And that's what they do and that's where the man's
wife finds him, staring into the refrigerator
as if into the place where the answers are kept -
the ones telling why you get up in the morning
and how it is possible to sleep at night,
answers to what comes next and how to like it.
[stephen dobyns]

white people like book tours...

On Monday night I donned my scarf and pea coat and headed to the night's ultimate urban event: a book signing by Christian Lander.

Lander, of the website-turned-book-deal "Stuff White People Like," is somewhere in the middle of a cross country tour with his best friend and blogging buddy Myles Valentin. Naturally, his journey of cultural satire takes him to "The Whitest Metropolis in America," Portland, Oregon.

Powell's Books, the city's hippest literary legend, is as crowded as it can be without anyone invading anyone else's personal space bubble. Apparently, white people also like arriving early. There's a handwritten sign on the door that says the event is closed, but I am undeterred. My friend Rachel is camped out in Paranormal Romance, but I choose to listen in from the slightly less adventurous Children's Section. I press my ear to a large display of Harold and his Purple Crayon.

Read the rest of the article at Patrol Magazine...

an appeal...

You, my friends, wherever you are,
Whether you are grieving just now, or full of joy,
To you I lift this cup of pungent wine
As they often do in the land of France.
From a landscape of cranes and canals,
Of tangled railway tracks and winter fog,
In the smoke of black tobacco, I make my way
Toward you and I ask you a question.
Tell me, for once at least laying
Caution aside, and fear and guarded speech,
Tell me, as you would in the middle of the night
When we face only night, the ticking of a watch,
the whistle of an express train, tell me
Whether you really think that this world
Is your home? That your internal planet
That revolves, red-hot, propelled by the current
Of your warm blood, is really in harmony
With what surrounds you? Probably you know very well
The bitter protest, every day, every hour,
The scream that wells up, stifled by a smile,
The feeling of a prisoner who touches a wall
And knows that beyond it valleys spread,
Oaks stand in summer splendor, a jay flies
And a kingfisher changes a river to a marvel.
...
[czeslaw milosz]

viva la vote...

I've come around a lot of circles and I'm going to vote with my head and gut regardless of what my [rebel] heart tells me. I figure two out of three isn't bad for the modern world.

Isn't it weird that voting is about 'a statement,' 'a personality,' or 'a worldview.' Was it always about that? What has driven the people of history to vote the way they did? Was it always such a guilt trip from every side?

drive, drive, drive...

Some fall days, when I'm missing Hillsdale [actually, what i miss is leaving hillsdale and heading for jackson or ann arbor], I think that I should fill up my [sister's] car with gas and just start driving south without looking back.

I could probably make it to Medford.

oh, mississippi...

Have you ever seen a man playing the bagpipes while riding a unicycle?

Because I have.

resume tips from the unemployed...

Since none of your well-intentioned resume tips seem to be helping, I'm at another temporary receptionist position for a couple of weeks. [unlike pam, i seem to dream of being a receptionist]

At this new job, I happen to be by the e-mail account receiving responses to two craigslist posts about jobs in another state. As I spent hours forwarding them on to the appropriate people, I have developed a few tips of my own. I claim no "definitely get job offers thrown at you in minutes!" secrets, but I am a pretty good at seeing faults. Here's my far from comprehensive list for your enjoyment/improvement.

THINGS YOU SHOULD DO IF YOU WANT YOUR RESUME DELETED:
-Send multiple e-mails with little bits of information added each time [examples: sentence fragments, your phone number, or "than you for considering myresume"]
-Have a 14-year-old email like "cutesybuttons_89@hotmail"
-Attach your cover letter and just put "cover letter attached, thanks" in the actual body of the e-mail instead of copy/pasting it
-Start every sentence with the word 'I'
-Talk about how you need this job so that you can relocate away from your horrible in-laws
-Make really illogical leaps, like "The fact that I used to be a Starbucks Barista and now work at a Server at Applebee's proves that I am a 'rising star' employee"
-Have cliche pseudo-religious "God is always ready to give us second chances" signatures at the end of your email
-Title your cover letter "generic cover letter," so the company knows they're special
-Mention your cat
-Put "craigslist post" in the subject line, and no information about the actual position you're applying for [the post id is equally as useless]
-Always only use run on sentences so that you can include lots of pointless information about your cat, ex husbands, etc for the company to use when they are trying to decide who to interview and eventually who to hire for the position that you didn't specify
-Misspell lots of words
-Copy/paste your cover letter so it loses formatting and all punctuation, and don't fix it
-Include a automatic return receipt request
-Hire someone who doesn't speak English to write your cover letter
-Mention that your ex husband ran a construction company, so you're qualified to run one
-Use smiley faces
-Be named Foxy Brown [i'm sorry your mother named you that, but you will never get hired any place where you might be given a business card. discrimination exists. deal with it]
-Write your cover letter in your native language, then translate it using google
-Use the word "unique" about yourself, your personality, your job skills, and your work ethic
-Misspell the job you're applying for
-Add a line like "And yes, I am old enough to know how to work a typewriter, ha ha"
-Use a formal cover letter template, then have your name written in pink scripty type
-Put any random line in your cover letter in ALL CAPS [preferably something like I LOOK FORWARD TO HEARING FROM YOU ABOUT THIS POSITION, so the potential employer can tell you are excited]
-Provide a link to your myspace page

to be continued...

seeing is changing...

Coming in late from an evening with friends, I was reminded how much sight influences our world. If we didn't see things change, would we even be aware of that they do?

I walked in to a house stilled by the late hour, the kitchen reminiscing the fresh tomatoes and pasta my sister cooked for Sunday supper. The drive home had been full of memory - things look different behind the wheel - familiar streets recalling youthful adventures with my Grandpa. Things looked different then. Signs and decor change, even for landmark restaurants.

As I microwaved leftovers which I didn't really need [late hours and slowing metabolisms consciously ignored], I heard my older sister's voice in the living room. She was combing our old dog. She asked my dad a simple question about Cricket's fur, her voice reflecting a child's quest for answers. She was sincere and his response was certain. Unable to see either of them from the kitchen table where I sat, I believed for a moment that I was 8 and she was 12 and our dad still knew everything about everything. [my dad = the original wikipedia]

Aside from the ocean, my summer was generally free of reflective surfaces. It was something I didn't really think about at the time. We did everything outside - from eating to sleeping to brushing teeth. It was camp, so appearance wasn't a high priority anyway. Except for a brief glance in an inconsequential mirror every morning I never really saw myself. I didn't realize that my hair turned blonde or that the eyes I looked out from fit into an older face than most of the kids on staff.

Sight changes everything. One must see something in the sense of noticing it, and also in the sense that we process and return new information. The world moves at different paces. Our dining room wall paper hasn't changed, but the people who sit around our table [with less and less frequency] have developed. Closing your eyes doesn't make any of it go away.

starbucks, the underdog...

I did something unthinkable this morning. Something I should be ashamed of. Something probably unAmerican.

I walked past my local independent coffee shop full of hip people and and went to Starbucks.

And I didn't feel bad. Actually, it might have been feeling bad that sent me there in the first place. See, this morning, I read another article about how Starbucks is closing stores, laying off people, and is down about 378 billion in profits for this quarter. [or something like that] While I doubt that Starbucks is actually going to implode in a cloud of burnt espresso vapor, it did make me reconsider where I spend my money. [never mind that my lactose intolerance has required a switch to pretty much the cheapest thing on the menu - a tall americano]

I don't want my neighborhood Starbucks to close.

Sure, I have only ever seen two cute guys hanging out there in all my years of lurking hopefully with an ipod and journal [see, i am an optimist]. Yeah, it's mostly middleaged sweaty people and cutesy moms with croc-ed/baby gapped toddlers. Of course I get really sick of the Jack Johnson/Feist songs blared just a little too loud. But the baristas are friendly and know regulars, just like at the indie cofee shop.

Why is it so American to hate whoever is on the top? This theory doesn't require proof anymore [see any hipster newspaper or novel by steinbeck or malamud], but it maybe still requires some thought. Why do I fervently hate the mediocre in a cup of coffee, yet settle for almost anything as far as relationships [with god, family, or otherwise]? Why do I look down on the green apron, yet fall for every band t-shirt that walks past? [actually, i think i'm starting to outgrow that. now i mostly fall for nice ties] Should I care more about non-genetically-modified food for myself or anything edible for starving kids around the world?

I think the fact that I even have time and energy to consider these questions reveals a lot about how easy I have it compared to most. So there's my secret: I don't mind Starbucks. Yeah, they're a big corporation: inefficent and impersonal on many levels.

Sometimes I want a great cup of coffee from the local indie cafe. But sometimes the free itunes track, pumpkin bread samples, and comfy chairs suit me fine.

Plus I'm out of cash and found an old Starbucks gift card lying around.

home...

Reading and writing about home is much more thought provoking when you're in the process [neverending, it seems] of leaving one and creating another.

water...

Since I'm sure I've exhausted every job ad on monster and craigslist this morning, before I turn to my Agatha Christie hour at my local independence coffee shop, I thought I'd pass on some words of wisdom.

Ashamedly, I was unaware of David Foster Wallace before his death on Friday. But after a little research [handed to me on a golden-linked platter] I have resolved to put aside ignorance and every sin that so easily entangles.

I, too, wonder how someone who writes this could do that. But that's probably the wrong question. What am I going to do today to see the water, to get out of my self-pitying unemployed head, to serve others, and just maybe, do something that helps someone else see the importance of everything around us.

I'm not sure how long that article will be up, but I hope you all pause for a moment in your information overloaded lives and read.

dear fall...

who are you,little i

(five or six years old)
peering from some high

window;at the gold


of november sunset

(and feeling:that if day
has to become night

this is a beautiful way)
[e.e. cummings]

In the middle of last week, [a few days early] it changed from summer to fall. I am cold all the time. Cummings helps. A fire would be more helpful.

read, past tense...

Somehow it's easier to clean up computer files than my clothes, which are now scattered in two houses, three different bedrooms, various basement boxes, and my still packed from the summer suitcase. I just found a blog post detailing my summer reading list, and figured it's about time to post it. [at least then i'll feel like i accomplished something today]

Here's my list, which, hopefully, proves that College is only the beginning of Education.

What I've Read Since Graduation [along with snippets of others that i can't actually claim]:

Exiles [ron hansen]
Memoir from Antproof Case [mark helprin]
The Violent Bear it Away [flannery o'connor]
The Beet Queen [louise erdrich]
Twenty-One Stories [graham greene]
The Reason for God [tim keller]
A Handful of Dust [evelyn waugh]
When God Doesn't Answer Your Prayers [jerry sitser]
The Sun Also Rises [ernest hemingway]
The Pursuit of Holiness [aw tozer]
The Silver Chair [cs lewis]
What Jesus Demands from the World [john piper]
Our Man in Havana [graham greene]
The Promise [chaim potok]

methods...

For the first time in my traveling life, [eight plus years] I have no trips planned. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. In one place. The city where I was born. In a house where I lived all my life.
And yet, I'm getting ready to leave in a different way than any of my travels. I'm moving out on my own. Moving is totally different from moving out. But I think I'll be fine.

This attachment is nearly detached. The beauty of it all is that, while it's a last necessary snap of the thread, it's been coming for so long that I'm prepared. All of my travels have helped the coming home be so much more meaningful. And as I continue on a parallel [but no longer the same] path with those I love the most, I've been thinking a lot about journeys.

I traveled in so many ways this summer: by plane, train, car, boat, bus, subway, and sidewalk.

fur real...

It's been a wild and fantastic and humbling summer. I'm in the last leg of my adventures on the east coast [which followed my adventures on the west coast] and not-so-secretly looking forward to the next year of being settled. I've committed to a year in Portland, but after that... I'm excited about full-time ministry opportunities and a passionate life of serving God to the fullest.

Right now I'm sitting in a hip tea shop off 5th Avenue in New York City, waiting for Alisa and people watching like there's no tomorrow. A lady just asked which college I go to. I'm not sure if that means I look smart with all these books scattered around me, or just young.

I couldn't even begin to tell you all the stories from this summer. But, I ended up with a bunch of fabulous new friends, a broad direction for my life, a great but fading-too-fast tan, and a full length vintage mink coat. [wait, a what?]

That's right. I [ahem, 'invested'] spent my carefully saved birthday money on a coat that I found at a house sale in Lexington, Mass. Mama V, one fabulous half of our fearless camp directors this summer, is rather addicted to yard sales and the dedicated dozen spent several early Saturday mornings driving around in a mini-van searching for deals. I now know all the secret rules of yard saleing, including spotting, looking-disinterested, and bargaining. At a grand old house in Lexington, where everything left in the house was for sale, a few of us girls jokingly tried on a beautiful vintage fur coat. The guy said he couldn't get ahold of his wife to find out how much she wanted, and so he'd sell it for $50. Okay, I might not ever have a chance to wear it, but I knew that a coat like that was definitely worth more than $50.

So, after much petting and one payment, I now own something almost as useless as that piece of paper. I laugh at myself [i'll take some glamour shots before i sell it, don't worry] and have a great physical memory of the timeless city of Boston.

Sometimes life is an adventure, and sometimes you have to make it an adventure. Bon voyage!

first comes love, then comes...

Though I missed many weddings of dear friends this summer,
I was so excited to make a quick trip to LA to attend the nuptials of JohnDavid and Elyse!

Welcome to the Intern 2004 Family, Elyse!

It was so good to see gracious Allison, who let me sleep on her super comfy couch and shared about "the life after." I'm excited to have her as an example of a woman passionately pursuing God in her post-college adventures!

We wish the rest of you could have joined us to celebrate!

Garrison battled endless early morning LA traffic to get me
back to the ferry on time to make my teaching session on Catalina! Thanks, G. Move out West!

off again...

I'm headed for Catalina in the early morning, so I'm not going to be blogging until August. I'm sure I'll have tons of sunburn stories to share. I'll miss you all terribly, but probably not as much as I'll miss these people:

In case you were wondering, I'm bringing these books:

what jesus demands from the world [john piper]
twenty-one stories [graham greene]
a handful of dust [evelyn waugh]
the beet queen [louise erdrich]
a farewell to arms [ernest hemingway]
the count of monte cristo [alexander dumas]

My address is on my facebook profile, so don't be shy about sending mail! I promise to write back. Lots of love!

numbers [and odd capitalization]...

College Degrees Obtained: 1
Weeks of Sitting Around at Home Post Grad: 2
Weeks of Sitting Around Temping Post Grad: 3
Sweet Shows I've Seen: 1
Days til I head South for my Island: 5
Weeks I'll be Gone: 7
Weddings I'm Sad to Miss: 3
Weddings I'm Hoping to Attend: 1
Nights I've Stayed Up Too Late this Week: 3
Mornings I've Gotten Up Early to Run this Week: 0
Job Options for Fall: 0
Great Places I'm Going to Live in the Fall: 1
Great Roommates I'm Going to Have There: 1

Some immediate life decisions made, with still more to make. I already feel more settled.

I'm excited for the promise of spiritual and environmental clarity at camp this summer. I am reassured of the care of my Savior and Provider. I am certain of a really great tan.

memorialized...

clark and lewis

dear diary...

Dear Readers,

I haven't been updating because I've spent the last two weeks sorting through closets, unpacking suitcases, packing boxes, repacking suitcases, and spending time with family and dear friends. I'm headed off for Memorial Weekend Adventures, but I thought I'd leave you with a near priceless discovery: pages from my diary - 1993.

You may notice several things from these pages:
1. I am a horrible speller. I try to hide it, but I have made only slight improvements since age 8.
2. I am a blatant liar. The first entry about my sister is entirely false.
3. I like to write names really fancy, even to the point of throwing them in the middle of entirely unrelated sentences.
4. There is a 'make your own calender' feature of this journal. I made several months into July so I could record which day of the week Allie's birthday [17th] and my birthday [27th] fell on. Apparently, July is the only month that mattered in 1992 and 1993. Good to know.

Emilys Driary 3/23/93
Mysister Betsy Loves sharks

Dear Diary, 3/23/93
I Just LOVE Spring BraKe and I am aBout reaDy For Summer. Will I got to go see you Nexxttime. Betsy
Emily

Dear Diary, 10/20/93
I am on a plane right now going to Kansas City. I am with my grandperantes. I will ride a horse, go over W.B. With IdIa Ruth. I gotta go bye Emily

Man, I lead an exciting life.

bling, but not that kind of bling...

I'm thrilled to be right-hand-sporting this amazing Launch present from my parents... If possible, I'm even more excited that it is: a. a pearl ring, and b. strongly resembles one of my all-time favorite sculptures.[unique forms of continuity in space, umberto boccioni 1913]

therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. [hebrews 12:1-2]

notables...

A few margin quotes from some of my favs:

Bushey, on Maori body decoration: "It makes sense. It's too hot to get dressed, so if you want any decoration, you have to paint or tattoo it on."

On her reasoning behind showing us a particular slide: "I don't know, I just found this great map of the geology of the area!"

On the phrase "research continues:" "That means, 'we don't know anything!'"

On her continual fight with technology: "I'll get to the bottom of this digital mystery!"

Whalen, telling us how to scorn a lover: "I am not the object of a lyric poem! You have to think, not just behold me!"

Telling us how to seduce a lover: "Darling, would you be my surrogate metaphysical manifestation?"

On his teaching style: "I will lie to you frequently to see if you're paying attention."

On Matthew Arnold: "He's so good. Ugh. You just want to hit people like this with a stick." "Snobbery isn't a virtue, but you can appreciate it when it's done with this kind of artistic flair."

On the Medievals: "Admit it: your view of the middle ages comes from Monty Python - really miserable people and highly adulterous people."

On his students: "You're all just lazy featherless bipeds!" "You're all modernists. Belief is not available to you." "It's positively neurotic, and you're all as crazy as bats."

On the facts of life: "Men and women do things together as recreation and produce tax deductions!"

I have no idea: "If you had little muskrats eating your knee caps, you'd pay attention too." "It's like calling a nudist colony the fashion capital of the world!"

On G.K: "I can imagine that it must be difficult to live with Chesterton...you'd probably need a pretty big bathtub, too."

conundrum...

With one project and three [half] finals to go, I am spending much of my time pondering an overwhelming question:
If I was a novel, which one would I be?

legal graffiti day...

We painted the Senior Sidewalk yesterday afternoon. There was plenty of space, so I left plenty of quotes and messages and memories. And then I kept a few paint pens, because I'm sure I'll have more to add.
How do you really sum up the four years that have changed your life? I mean, yeah, you learn plenty from 1-18, but 18-22? Infinite.I had a conversation earlier about the need to mourn the passing of this phase. None of us want to stay, but we don't want to leave, either. I think that's what I've been doing all weekend: mourning. It's necessary.

It will be weird to expand this life into something bigger than a ten minute walk across campus. We're all trying to figure out how to not let the goodbyes ruin the final weeks. Plus, it's easier to talk faux-osophically about transition than actually putting in the work on the final paper of my undergrad. In two weeks, I will be standing on nw soil: a college graduate, ready to see if all this actually works.

the night we met

i saw more stars
than i had ever seen before
my ears filled with
bluegrass laughter
and cigarettes
across the empty fields

ode to my favorite shoes...

i wish i knew you
like these well worn shoes,
feeling you like thin rubber
soles connecting feet to pavement,
(after thousands of unconscious steps)
charged with familiarity
illuminating a subtle incline
the smallest pebble
and the firm grip of gravity.

sunday morning love...

I woke up with the sunshine this morning [hello, sun. i've missed you! thanks for visiting michigan] and did a little reading. Sometimes reading is fun and easy, sometimes it's a cleverly disguised nudge, sometimes it's that blatantly obvious slap in the face to help you really understand all the other recent slaps. [oh, wait, so all these pieces do fit together? no way!]

For this is the message that you have heard from the beginning, that we should love one another [1 john 3:11]

I'm not really sure why I thought this, since twenty-two years of experience has so far proved otherwise, but I've always expected that one day, loving people would be easy for me. I'm not sure whether I figured they would all just become really awesome or I would become really awesome, but I expected that eventually everything would change and I would be so awesome at loving/serving/giving. And man, would I be a cool Christian then! This week has been all about challenging my ridiculous conceptions and replacing them with unamenable truth:

"That's what's so difficult about Jesus' call to love others. On one level, it's easy to love God, because God doesn't smell. God doesn't have bad breath. God doesn't reward kindness with evil. God doesn't make berating comments. Loving God is easy, in this sense. But Jesus really let us have it when he attached our love for God with our love for other people." [gary thomas]

Loving people is always the harder thing to do. It's the right thing, but it never really gets easier. When loving people means roadtripping with the windows down and singing along to your favorite songs, man, I'm great at that. But when loving people looks like forgiveness [a conscious continual choice, not actually a one time thing like i previously thought], grace, and pursuing someone as equally unlovable as myself, I want to quit. Yes, I can practice/cultivate behaviors and routines and habits of the actions of love, but this heart cannot be trained to love on autopilot.

I heard someone talking about how Paul treats the Corinthian church. These kids were pretty messed up, yet he opens his first letter to them with the line: "I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus..." I don't think it was easy for Paul to love them. Obviously, he's writing them a letter over some pretty frustrating behavior. In fact, this sentence could even have been as much of a reminder to himself as to them [maybe that's improper speculation, but i know how often i need remind myself of grace before i have any interaction with people].

Love isn't something that works on autopilot. I will never naturally or unconsciously love people. Love is a constant moving forward, not an apathetic staying put and waiting for the Love Fish to jump up out of nowhere and hit your head [gosh, i'm kind of violent this morning. all this slapping of faces]. The people who needed John's letter had heard about love from the beginning, but still needed to hear about it again. Me too.

Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth [1 john 3:18].

plus four...

Kayris and I are still wearing blue.
freshmen

seniors