The Grand Adventure

My First Kiss, While We're on the Topic of Kissing

2012-02-10T21:25:00.000-08:00

Let me tell you about my first kiss. It was when I was 19. It was with a guy I'd met online. He lived in Georgia at the time, and I was in Kentucky.

He was five years older than me.

He drove up to visit me. We went to Mammoth Cave. I held his hand. I wasn't sure whether I liked holding his hand. I thought maybe his fingers were too big. He talked to my dad and I thought he sounded like sophomoric.

I told myself I wasn't giving him a chance.

We watched Moollan Rogue (or however you spell it) and I hated it. He loved it. We went for a walk at the new park. I'd never been. He stared at me a lot. We sat down on a bench, the bench was hard and he was really tall. People were walking by and I thought there might be bugs in the tall grass behind us. He kissed me and it was cool and kind of slimy and tasted weird. It didn't feel special, it felt kind of gross, and when he licked his lips and said it was great I wanted to make a face. There were no feet popping, no sizzling, not even a fizzle or a spark. I told myself it was just because I was so nervous, I told myself it wasn't horrible or revolting so that was good.

I wasn't sure I liked him but I told myself I wasn't giving him a chance.

I said "we'll have to practice."

What I meant was "I really hope it gets better than this."

It didn't ever, not really.

That's why I believe in chemistry, because no-chemistry exists.

A Really Great Kiss cont. A.K.A. Sleep Deprived Reminiscing

2012-02-09T20:22:00.000-08:00

For the record; the guy knew what he was doing. I think it was half chemistry and half him knowing exactly what the hell he was doing.

ok, so I tried to straiten out my hair, he messed it up again. He kissed me with my hair in my face, pulled the hair aside and kissed my neck. It felt amazing, but not as good as his hands. His hands were on my legs, arms, back, stomach, neck. He said "see, touching is good." I never wanted him to stop touching me. I touched his knee. I wanted to touch everything.

He asked me if I wanted him to go. No no no nonononono. It was an unfair question. I told him he needed to go. He asked again and I asked him to go to church with me the next day. A small exchange after that and he agreed that he should go. I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to take off his shirt. I wanted him to take off my shirt. I wanted to see just how far I could go before I incinerated or went to hell. I wanted to test my theology. I didn't do any of those things.

This time when he kissed my neck again took an effort not to go boneless. I almost asked him not to stop.

He told me "Let's say I like you enough to be protective of you." I didn't know how good words like those could feel.

I decided to go with him to his bus station. I wanted just a few more minutes with this miracle of sensation. How could I have dated a guy for 11 months and felt none of this? This, which was inspired in two days. I wanted to see him in the light, to see the body I'd felt in the dark, that my own body seemed so at home with against all rational. He was so comfortable, being against him was comfortable. I wanted to kiss again.

We took the stairs and I almost fell a couple of times, my land legs not fully back yet. I felt giddy.

On the subway, in an act of daring, I touched his chest over his jacket, and told him he was very fit. He laughed and said he knew. He had a big enough ego I wasn't going to tell him him the real words, perfect body, like a drug.

At his bus stop we kissed softly and parted.

I could smell him on my skin, taste him on my lips. My skin buzzed and blushed. It took me an hour to find the bus stop I'd been to dozens of times. I felt breathy and beautiful and powerful and brave.

I spent the next three hours saying "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh!" every few minutes.

The entire next week the song "Bad Things" was stuck in my head.

After that, I have to say. Kisses are AMAZING.

A Really Great Kiss A.K.A. Sleep deprived blogging

2012-02-09T20:06:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed how, when you don't get enough sleep for a few days in a row, you just ache all over? Huh? Maybe that's just me.

So, I tried to Google "A really great kiss" and well, nothing really encouraging came up. There were lots of people needing good kisses, and lots of advice on how to give good kisses, and lots of people questioning the validity of kissing at all, but no stories on good kisses. Maybe I didn't look hard enough, but I'm too tired to spend hours Google searching. Ten minutes is enough.

Frankly, I don't need a story about a very good kiss; I have one of my own.

And, since clearly the internet is lacking on non-fictional stories involving a good kiss. And, well, I hope that the guy finds this to be a compliment should he ever read it, I'll tell mine. Some of this is from memory, a fair amount is pulled from a journal I was writing and sketching in at the time.
_______________________________________________________________________

I met him at EPIK orientation in 2010. I thought he was beautiful from the moment I saw him. I remember being so confident that life was about taking opportunities, and being involved. So, I walked over to him and introduced myself. I loved his eyes immediately, and his mouth. Not quite as much as the Australian's mouth (haha, oh my gosh, so there was this Australian guy with the full lumberjack beard and a tan and these full, plump, expressive lips and he sat across from me at meal one day I could barely take my eyes off his mouth), but enough of that. So, I introduced myself and ask his name. Then, in my fashion, I promptly insulted him, and he responded with ease and aplomb. I was immediately impressed.

Over the course of the next 10 months or so we messaged occasionally online. And then one day, after babysitting for some friends, I messaged him. I hadn't gone to any New Year's celebrations because I didn't want a stranger to kiss me. Frankly, I was kind of afraid my "kiss was broken." See, I had a boyfriend back about 8 years ago (seven at the time) and kissing him was...terrible; repeatedly, embarrassingly, terrible. If I think back too hard on it I want to cry. I want to cry about how much I lied when I said I liked it, how every kiss left me feeling a little dead inside. How, if I was lucky I felt full, but numb, hallow, trying to fill up hollowness with kisses that didn't work. I didn't want it to happen again. I didn't want to kiss another guy and confirm that there was something wrong with me.

Well, he told me he'd give me a New Year's kiss, after all, he wasn't a stranger. And I, in an act which was extraordinarily out of character, said yes.

Now, when I was in Spain a classmate kiss-kissed me one night and our lips brushed. I felt a shock through my body, though I doubt he noticed, being quite drunk as he was, but I chalked that up to the shock of having a mouth touch mine. After all, the first second or so of kisses with that old boyfriend left that same shock of something before my heart and mind detached, turning me into a kissing zombie.

But now, now I'd said yes, to what I didn't know. A date? A kiss? More than a kiss? I was going to spend a weekend with him, me, for the offer of a kiss, with a guy. We chatted so much online during the week or two before I saw him. And when I did I was so nervous.

He put me at ease so quickly. He has a way like that, a way of looking at people like they're the only thing important to him in that moment. I knew I wasn't important to him in the long run, but I was surprised at how comfortable I was with having him for a moment. I always thought I'd be insecure, jealous, but I wasn't, we're still friends and I hear about new girls and I'm not. It's something I hadn't known about myself until then.

We hiked. I forget so many words. English words. I spilled red soup down a white sweater and ended up in my skin tight undershirt. It was ridiculous and funny. The poor lady at the soup restaurant was in tragic exasperation over the spilled soup, I just laughed. I learned a long time ago to laugh at myself. I'm thankful for that.

I was trembling, my teeth nearly chattering, mostly from the cold, partly with the restraint it took not to touch him. He tried to get me to drink, I spilled the wine in the carpet.

We watched movies, and he took my hand. I didn't know what to do, it had been so long and I felt so different around him. The experience, I couldn't even compare it to previous ones. I was so hyped up, but not because I was uncomfortable, but because...I felt like anything was possible. He eased my hand from its fist, caressed my fingers and palm and wrist with a rhythm that somehow matched the pulsing of the blood inside me, held my hand, twined our fingers together, rubbed his thumb over the pulse point on my wrist and my arm went up in flames. It burned inside and remade itself. I went to the bathroom and I was drenched. I won't go into detail there, but from what I know of magazines like Cosmo, that hardly ever happens at all, let alone just by hand touching.

He wanted to kiss, I wouldn't let him. I felt horribly guilty for it but I was holding an ocean back with sandbags and I didn't know if one hole would send the whole thing crashing down. I wasn't sure I could deal with myself. We snuggled and ALL I could think about was laying my body across is and putting my mouth on any part of him he'd let me. I laid there stiff, burning, trying to hold the pieces of myself together as every atom of my body was drawn to him, wanted to orbit him. I eventually sent him to his room. I knew that if I woke to his face there would be no holding myself back. I didn't want to do that, I didn't want to know whether he'd let me do that.

The next day we went to the park, he pushed me on a swing, he taught me how to play chess and then kicked my ass at it. I wanted my tongue in his mouth.

As we walked to the bus I asked him if he wanted to see me again the next weekend and he was surprised, because to his estimation I'd rejected him. I wished I could tell him why I behaved the way I did, I didn't think I could speak the words. Virgins are supposed to be asexual, we're not supposed to be horny from holding hands. Even still, he accepted.

The next time I saw him I met him in Daegu. He said a friend would come, the friend never did. We sat at a park and watched children, sat leg to leg, held hands, talked, he smelled my hair, my neck, and I felt it like a spiraling heat from the tip of my head to my blushing heals.

We were going to go to a movie, and I was determined to kiss him if he'd let me. Damn it, he wanted to kiss me! Then the movie times didn't work, and right across the street was a DVD bang. That's a place where you can rent a movie and sit in the living room watching it, but you never have to go home to do it. They have dozens of living rooms with large screen TVs where you can just pop in a movie. It's a great place to make out. I knew it, and I could see in his eyes that he knew it too when he asked me if I wanted to do that instead. I said yes.

We started watching Lars And the Real girl, reclining on this bed/couch thing every room in the DVD bang had, tight next to each other, me pretending to watch the movie when really I'm trying not to be aware of him with every atom of my being. I kept wondering, why did this never happen with the old boyfriend? I kept thinking holy shit, holy shit, this is actually happening.

He took my hand in his, just like he had before. I was trying to think of the movie, there was a movie, my hand distracted me. Movie, movie, hand, touching, caressing each finger, wrist, trying not to let my eyes flutter shut in ecstasy. For the first time I touched back, trying to mimic, hoping to have some kind of effect, trying to think though what was surely the synapses in my brain beginning to short out. And fire crept over my skin.

He let go of my hand and let me do the touching. I touched his veins, the pads of his hands, his long thin fingers, and wrist; moved up his arm to the course hair and hard muscle underneath. He touched my shoulders when I stopped, massaged them far better than anyone had before, one at a time, touched my arms, over and over, up and down, soft and firm. Collar bone, neck. I rested my head on his chest and he laid his fingers over my pulse, told me my heart was pounding. I think I laughed. I was in cardiac arrest. His heart was pounding too, it felt good to know I had an effect.

He stared down at me and I felt it, I didn't look at him, I was trying to remember how to do more than feel, but I said "Hi again," because, really, those were the only words I could think of. He took them as the invitation that they were.

Our lips brushed, it was soft and pleasant, a meeting, a greeting, a sip. Just right.

Our legs twined together, his arm wrapped around my waist and we went back to pretending to watch the movie. I could tell you what it was about, and that there were some awful patterns on the walls, but no lines. My senses were no focused on the auditory. He nuzzled my face, a request, and I turned toward him, a little wetter, a little longer, a little more intense. I tried to keep up, felt like I failed, tried to memorize every sensation at once. Took that plump bottom lip I'd stared at during the chess game into my mouth with satisfaction.

I stopped him after several kissed, made him let me do it on my own because I was so overwhelmed my him. He needed to be still and let me do it. God, I was going to die if I didn't kiss him myself. I still remember the feel of his abs, his chest, his collar bones, his back. They are burned into my memory. I expected him to be static, to be unhappy with my taking charge, instead he was more intense, open mouthed and I felt the brief touch of teeth and tongue. A hand held my back, another touched my face and neck.

And I wasn't afraid.

I was exhilarated. I was flying and I was dying.

His hand slipped under my shirt, held my shoulder, skin to skin, and it was like the kiss times two.

I burned.

We continued on, movie, simple touches, kisses, he tried to slip his hand down my shirt and up my thigh. I stopped him because if I didn't stop him when he was just getting started I knew wouldn't ever.

He contented himself with squeezing my thigh, which sent a lazy thick sizzling around my body. He kissed my cheek, forehead, and nose. Touched my face and ear. I felt special, noticed.

I ventured my hand up his arm to his neck and face and hair. I didn't know what was "ok" to touch, I was always under the impression that guys could be scary, and I knew I was very choosy about who I let touch me. He'd said I could touch him. I want to so bad. I didn't believe him, but I was trying to. I loved the sandpaper feel of his stubble against my hand and mouth (you know, sometimes I wonder if I never quite came out of that "oral phase" because more often then not I see a man I like and just...want to put my mouth on him). I enjoyed how soft and defined his mouth was.

By this time we had changed positions somewhat. I opened my eyes to watch him hover over me, his own eyes closed, loved the look of absolute focus on his face. He held my hand to him when I tried to take it away, I felt...I don't even know, amazing.

His tongue darted out again, grazed my teeth and tongue, filled me up with sparking ash, my own tongue caressed that plump lip that I was suddenly obsessed with.

His hands delved into my hair and he made soft noises in his throat that made it so difficult to stop.

The movie ended and he took the opportunity to lay his body over mine, though he needn't have waited for the dark to do it. Breasts and chest, arms and hands, mouth and mouth, thighs. I felt so warm and relaxed, like I could sleep, like I was made of molasses) His body moved against mine, just once, and it was like the lights shutting off in my brain. Sorry, not open for business, out for a while, come back later. His weight, the feel of his body, so hard against mine. I nearly came.

My body knew what to do, it was ready to go. What little rational was left in my mind was screaming something like hell in a hand-basket!

It took effort to get him to let me up. Mostly because I was having difficulty regaining the use of my arms.
Kissing didn't end, I couldn't stop it, my body was firmly against listening to me.
His tongue was soft and strong, no flavor but him, neither hot nor cold. I wanted to touch his tongue back, not just use it on his lips but I was nervous about this thing inside of me and how little control I had left. I wanted to make noise for all the shutters of pleasure that ran through me. I couldn't do it. But you know what, that's ok. It was my first kiss in seven years. I think I did pretty damn good.

When I sat up he clung to me and I was grateful, I needed him to not just let me go.

Visiting Friendship

2012-02-07T09:47:00.000-08:00

I've been contemplating friendship a lot lately, particularly as I have no time to do such things. (And please forgive the textual errors today, I've got about four hours of sleep in me and I'm feeling it in my bones and my brains).

What is friendship exactly? Why do we need it? And why-oh-why do people who don't think about me but once in a blue moon call me "friend?"

Has Facebook changed this? Is "friend" now what "acquaintance" once was?

My consideration of a friend is someone who you could go to and whose house you could stay at if you were down and out. They'd help you if someone you love died, they'd let you mooch off them for a while if you lost your place, they'd drive you around if your car broke down. They talk and listen, share and accept. They are both actors and acted upon. They really care, and expect the same from you. To me, that is friendship.

I don't seem "work friends" or "church friends." Someone either is my friend, or they are not. If they are not it doesn't mean I don't like them, or that they don't like me, or that we can't become friends. What it means is that we're not to that point. I don't feel I know the person, or I don't feel they know me. I don't feel I could come to them with trouble, or cry in front of them, or deep down I hope they never come to me with lots of trouble. If it's not equal, and it's not what I described than it's not friendship.

And while I do call people "friend" who I don't see or speak to often it is because of some intense life event, and usually that even is South Korea, that created a real sense of solidarity between them and I. They are someone I would put up at a moment's notice if they showed up in my city, and I would expect the same from them. When we talk there is never tension, and usually these people were extraordinary aids in my emotional survival during a period. Clearly, there are some exceptions.

So, yeah, I don't call a lot of people friends. And there are a lot of people I say used to be my friend, because Facebook doesn't mean I know you. Facebook is the modern equivilant of sending someone a Christmas card. Just because you got a card doesn't mean we're tight.

People who I barely know call me their friend, and I can't help but feel there's something implied in that word that I don't understand. If I am a friend than what is expected of me, and what should I expect from you? Do you believe friendship can go only one way? Can you feel moderate distaste for a friend? Can someone you've just met be your friend? What do you people want from me?! .....#^,^#

It also makes me wonder what time is passed other people consider friends, and how much time they spend with them. I spend evenings with virtually no one, but if shows like "Friends" and "How I Met Your Mother" and even " Big Bang Theory" are to be believed friends spend virtually every night together (and are also moderately successful and roommates).

I wonder if everyone else in the country is somehow spending every (or nearly every) evening with their friends hanging out at someone's house, not getting things done, sharing food and just lounging on couches and somehow I've missed the invitation. I wonder if that's why I'm not married, because no one invites me to hang out at their house with their other friends in the evenings, because I don't have a "group."

I know how to hang out with people in Europe and Asia, even South America, it's the US that has me puzzled.

That being said I fear I have upset a friend of mine. A real friend. But unfortunately the relationship between us goes through periods of strain, largely, I think, because of me. I feel as though his and my relationship has gone through precious little evolution in the five years that I've known him. I still know little about him and often times the things I learn are not things I particularly like. But, he is a different person than I am and I know that it's okay for me to not enjoy what he enjoys. We have precious little in common besides our alma matter and a proclivity for soul searing depression.

I also struggle with feeling that our relationship is unbalanced, mostly with him and I on the instant messenger for hours, me often typing the entire time with few comments from him, often hashing out my day or issues that I've yet to resolve despite going over them a thousand times.

And, also, I feel that perhaps he is using me as a crutch because he feels he cannot find a girlfriend, so he uses me to feel like he's being needed and a "good man" and to tell a girl she's pretty. I wonder if I'm holding him back. Particularly because I do not like him "that way," and never will.

And lately I have not had time for the pattern we have established these years, first while I was depressed and recovering from mental illness at the tail end of university, then when I was in Korea, and then when I had no job. Now I have a job, two actually, and school. And, I'm not terminally depressed. And, those issues I hash out seem a lot less important in light of the possibility of my success in a graduate program. And, I want to hang out with people for real. And, I want my hours to have purpose. But I feel as though I am rescinding an invitation or reneging on our arrangement. So, I feel obliged to talk to him but guilty both for the doing and the not doing and it gets worse as he sends me a message, or several messages of "hi" and "poke" and "how are you," every day.

I tried to ask him to stop in a simple way which I feel may have hurt him. So I sent a letter explaining. It may help, or hurt him more. I don't know.

But he's my friend. With friends you try.

Moderation in theology? Wait, is that allowed?

2012-01-27T11:22:00.000-08:00

So I was at the BCM this week and there was a girl going over a selection of Bible verses with another girl. Clearly they were participating in what is colloquially known as "discipleship," with a distinct leader and learner. One of the verses was James 1:13

"Let no one say when he is tempted, “I am being tempted by God,” for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one."

She went on to say that if you're tempted it's because of your own sinful nature. And that it's your sin that is tempting you. Your sin...is tempting you? Wait wait wait. To be tempted is not a sin, for Jesus himself was tempted. And temptation is not something which should condemn us, but remind us what we are capable of, and what we have been freed from and lead us to compassion for others who did not escape temptation because we know "nothing has tempted you except that which is common to man." There's an awful lot compassed in that saying.

I, of course, having been politely invited into the conversation, and not being one to sit around and be "taught" without discussion, disagreed and cited Jesus' own temptation. I pointed out that sin comes when we dwell on a temptation, elaborate about it and suppose over what it would be like it in our minds.

The girl automatically went on to say that, yes, Jesus had been tempted, but he rejected it without a moment's notice and we should do the same. She said that we should "flee every temptation" and quoted what I'm sure was a youth minister (because youth ministers undoubtedly say this over and over) in that we should turn the opposite direct and run from any temptation.

That's all nice in theory but here's the deal it's pretty useless in practice. And, frankly, I think the Bible supports evidence of situations in which there was assuredly "temptation" but where the saints did not "flee" and were blessed.

It also brings up the point of moderation in theology. It's not a concept often taught, often thought of, and rarely discussed.

See, when someone makes an all encompassing declarative statement, I don't think they should say in their minds "oh, people should know I don't really mean it's all encompassing," or "people should know if I'm wrong and just make their own adjustments." No, the person should make room for the exceptions and at least pay tribute to them, mention them, or they should be called out for obstructing the truth.

Real truth is not easy. Well, the basis of it is, but when you get into it it's not a bunch of simple encompassing rules. It's hard, it's difficult, it's minute, and a lot of it is based *gasp* on our own convictions.

It bothers me that in two breaths this sweet girl who is clearly trying to teach another about the truth of Christian life would give two statements which require exception. If you ran every time you were around someone you of whom you were tempted to lust you would eventually have a very lack luster marriage. If you never went where you were tempted to glut you'd never find yourself in a store. If you were never in a position where you were tempted to be sinfully angry than justice would never be done.

Moderation is required in most theological aspects. Marry was a virgin, but she was not perfect.

God doesn't temp you, but he allows you to be tempted.

We flee sins and don't "pursue" temptation, but we allow ourselves in situations where we are sometimes tempted with the trust that we are strong in Christ, that the outcome of being in the situation is better than not, and giving ourselves the grace (and to exemplify giving exeption, there are some exceptions to even this: in a situation where you would be tempted to cheat on a spouse, you avoid it completely, where you would be tempted to be inappropriately violent, you avoid it completely, where you would betray someone you love, you avoid it completely, where you know you NEARLY ALWAYS give into temptation, you avoid it, because this is reasonable and wise).

That is all for now. Just some thoughts to chew on. Wisdom would dictate that I get ready for work now.

Art is for Artists

2012-01-27T10:52:00.000-08:00

I wanted to show you some projects that I've done in my art class as well as talk about my art class.

I really enjoy art and I really like learning about all the different kinds of creativity and practicing it. But it is a big drain on my time.

Personal mark assignment. You can't really see the detailing on the wing,
but it's there. I would take the picture again but I seem to have "misplaced"
the piece.

I want credit for that drain. Some kind of affirmation that the effort to improve and learn by direction from a class, has been noted.

My art class is lovely, and 2-D design is very interesting. But, my teacher doesn't check a lot of our work, and is inconsistent about it. She will also give guidelines but then change them if a student doesn't follow them. There's nothing wrong with giving some guidelines. Everyone needs to know how to utilize creativity with some boarders as well as with no boards, or with complete boarders. Creativity isn't just about breaking rules, it's about doing something dynamic within rules. She will tell us "draw 20 sketches before the final piece" or "do 60 sketches before the final piece" and then never asks us to flip open our sketch book. She doesn't even look to see if we made the effort. Sometimes she'll tell us to bring something in and then doesn't mention it again, other times she will ask as a foot note at the end of class.

The horror vacui piece. My sister thought it "wasn't very scary," lol. It's not
as 'done' as I want it to be, but it was 'done enough' to present to the teacher.
I plan to work on it more this weekend, more charcoal, more Korean.

I find myself wondering, am I not really an artist? Is this the kind of environment that artists thrive in, and that they create? Do I create this kind of environment for my own students? Is it beneficial or detrimental?

The teacher is a lovely woman, with really great things to say, and I trust the school that she is able to critique art and suggest reasonable improvements, and I love the content, but I'd really like some consistency. In addition, I'm more likely to stop putting effort into the "extra" stuff if she never checks it. Maybe an indicator of my character, but I could be studying, or blogging, if she's not going to check my effort. I'd rather a poor grade than no grade, honestly.

The three line assignment. My piece on the left was chosen by the class as
one of the best. ^_^ Won't hear me complain.

Another Little Update

2012-01-27T10:21:00.000-08:00

Well, you should be pleased to know that I made an A on both of my psychology tests (though, granted, one A was achieved through extra credit, but hey, an A is an A).

I also had a good meeting with my church group. I can't say that I know they VERY well but from all I can see they are the best group I have ever found myself in. Very imperfect individuals who are all trying very hard. It makes me feel safe and like I fit in. I don't know about other people but I find that when I'm around people who seem perfect I just want to run screaming because my own imperfections are so glaringly obvious (e.g. my weight).

On the doctor's recommendation my mother also went off the Lasix as they cannot find what is wrong with her. Instead she was encouraged to drink coconut water every day, to cut all salt out of her diet, and to continue to exercise. Perhaps there was one more thing but I've forgotten it. Of course my father was upset. Sometimes it concerns me that I'm as mercurial as him, even if it's a different kind of mercurial. She has been doing this for two days and for two days she has lost .2 pounds. Let me explain why this is significant. Before, when she was taking the Lasix and experiencing the severe bloating, if she skipped the medicine she would gain 1 to 2 pounds each day, even if she had eaten nothing. So, after a few days of this she would be carrying 5 or 6 pounds of bloating water weight around her belly. Now, with what she's doing not only has she not put on 1 to 2 pounds but has, in fact, lost some weight (no matter how minimal). It is encouraging. Her sleep study is Thursday evening.

I received notification that my graduate application is being processed. I have to admit, I almost puked when I saw the email. The busyness of the last few weeks had pushed aside the massive amount of nerves tied to whether or not I get into graduate school in August.

I also began teaching English to Adults and had my first successful class (it was the third one). The first two classes were just terribly difficult and nerve wracking for me. The third was like an amazing beautiful break, or a breeze during a hard run. I am confident that my classes and style will continue to improve.

I was also watching family ties (and That 70's Show, ironically) when I realized that the economic issues that we're dealing with, the problems of corruption and big business and monopoly and people's rights. These are not new issues. These things have been fought and hashed out at least three times before. So, what now? If it's not new was it ever solved or do we just forget about it for a time? If it was dealt with before than how was it built up and why did it fail?

Bread at a baker in Seoul

Presently I'm listening to the State of the Union. I have an hour, why not, right? I wish the president would talk more specifically about how policies will be made rather than grandiose declarations of what he will do. It would be like me telling my students "I will teach you English! If you want to know English, just come to me. I am here for you to learn." Well, yes, technically, and in a very broad sense that's true. But there are limitations, like my off time is mine, and whether or not they work hard, and their own natural intelligence. And, they will not be fluent out of my class; my class is beginning English. After me they will go to intermediate, and then advanced, and then maybe years after they successfully complete the advanced class they will reach fluency. It's my responsibility to meet them where they are, shouldn't this also be the approach of governmental leaders speaking to the general public?

The Business of Busyness

2012-01-19T09:50:00.000-08:00

Like the word play? I do.

The last several days (nearly a week) have been pretty chaotic.

I got a migraine over the weekend that reminded me why it is that migraines suck. I am one of those unfortunate souls who gets the "aura." This time it was mostly confused thinking, blurred vision, and nausea. good times...

I started teaching adult ESL yesterday and that went better than it could have gone. Just standing up in front of the class brought back a lot of skills and things that I had forgotten and I already feel more ready (readier?) for the next class. I think my students will be fun, and challenging. Challenging is good.

I signed up for volunteering with foreign born nationals (what most of the South would call "ferners") and feel very confident about that.

I worked at Godiva, fun times. And, it turns out that they can't find any cancer or disease in my mom. They don't know why her body is swelling up or putting pressure on her heart and lungs. But, the meds are probably giving her migraines. She's going to be tested for sleep apnea. I'll update as that goes on. What could be wrong with her that the doctors can't find? It's disconcerting. Where's House when you need him? Ha.

Art class has been going well. By far the class that feels the least like work. I actually finding myself putting it off because it's so much fun that I worry I'll just do that and not the other things I have to do. Then I end up staying up to all hours of the night because "just half an hour of drawing before bed" turns into three hours of drawing and brain melting exhaustion the next morning. Unfortunately that has also resulted in my being late for art class, twice. The teacher is very gracious but that's beside the point. My favorite class and I'm not being totally on the ball. This irritates me. I will need to readjust my thinking and schedule to make exception for sleepy morning slowness. We are doing a horror vacui drawing in which I am compiling pictures from South Korea (reinterpreting photos I took into graphite with the understanding that I am not drawing for mimicry) in increasingly smaller sections until I fill in all the little spaces with Korean words. We are also doing three line pictures, to practice line, and form.

Oh, yes, and on an unfortunate note, it appears that reading glasses are now a necessity rather than a fashion statement...not that I ever wore them for a fashion statement, I get vertigo wearing reading glasses for walking. Either way, must read class books with glasses now to avoid nausea. I'm 28, I'm not that upset about it. It will help me study, and doing well on my first psych exam (Tuesday!) is definitely an immediate goal of mine.

I'm trying to figure out the time frame for everything because right now I go to class Monday through Friday, teach on Monday and Wednesday evenings, have church group on Thursday evenings, am supposed to volunteer at some point, studying and art and papers and participating in psych department experiments, prepare for lessons, clean room, do household necessities, visit friends, visit my mother at some point, work (increasingly as it gets closer to Valentines), and sleep. I've found that a big big deal is making lists and schedules. Yes, it takes time to make them, but it takes more time in wasted time when I don't make them. Am I also supposed to exercise every day? Because I don't know that I can fit that in...but I will see what I can do.

On that note, I'm learning all sorts of interesting things in my pysch classes. Whenever before have I wanted to soak up everything I'm learning? Well, when I was getting my CELTA, but I was also in crazy culture shock. This is the first time I've actually been able to pursue it without feeling like my head was going to fall off.

And for the record:

The Bachelor is offensive. Those poor, stupid, backstabbing, attention hungry people.
Graeter's Mint Chip ice cream is the best I've ever had. And I've been around the world.
Wendy's Apple Cranberry Chicken salad is awesome and has pretty much all food groups. It's awesome.
Sleep is good and I suspect the person who came up with the saying "you can sleep when you die" was mentally ill.

Waaaa. I could write pages about each thing I mentioned here and my thoughts on it and what I did and what I'm planning, but there's that time crunch I referred to. Going to study now.

Neurosis, the Other side of Being Okay

2012-01-13T21:22:00.001-08:00

Yesterday was was a hectic morning and hectic afternoon followed by six odd hours of talking with people at the campus ministry. Frankly, it was a good four hours of things that were honestly felt but shouldn't have been honestly shared. I did not watch my words and now I'm going to spend the next month looking over my shoulder. I also messaged the guy who gave me his number, but he has not responded. I assume he changed his mind. If he did, that's his right, people change their minds.

But, very big but, I got my grad packet submitted in it's entirety. And, it snowed beautifully. It was really truly beautiful and ethereal.

Today was much more positive, much more productive. Class, then running around trying to finish financial aid things and pay for things and make sure my grad packet was in. I ran into some Korean students and gave them my number. I printed something off at the library and came to the realization that it will be cheaper in the long run for me to buy ink and paper and print off at home. I went to the registrar's office and finally got in the third class, the one I was wait listed for. Apparently there was a glitch in the system so it's good that I did go.

I wrote out a couple of lists, one of to-dos, one of questions about the university.

I called work to find out when I had to be in today, and then ended up running back to the house to get my checkbook and go back to the university to pay for my classes because the amount was too big to pay for with a check card. Was a bit late to work but called them to tell them and my manager was cool. Work was good. It is good to work. It's too bad work doesn't pay more.

Finally, I came home and drank a beer and proceeded to bawl in front of my younger sister. I had a dream last night that my mother was in a horrible car crash and her arm was severed. While I was at the campus ministry center yesterday I felt this sense of déjà vu that I'd had this dream where I was in the ministry center and I received a call from my father to tell me my mother had died. I thought I had dealt with the stress of my mother having yet another test today, this time for lung cancer, but her having horrible headaches is shaking me up, apparently much more than anticipated. Mostly it centers around the belief that no one will ever listen to me or put me first or nurture me or take care of me ever again after she passes away. I have no proof to the contrary. A good cry is always good, but not always good in front of another person. So, no more beer for me until everything with my mother's health is resolved. I know I should trust Jesus and give everything to him, but he never responds.

Many things accomplished but many things to do tomorrow too.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

2012-01-11T20:59:00.000-08:00

Today started off well with a meeting to an advisor that had little bearing on what I'm presently doing. I only realized later that I needed to print off a sheet of paper to give me financial aid. However, I got my FAFSA corrected, so I'm one step closer.

Developmental psychology was interesting, and I should be officially in the class soon. I'm eager to participate in the service learning projects and see what this whole thing is like. I also met two students who are in class with me.

I spent some time at the BCM and my brother was there, unexpectedly. It would be nice if he wasn't irritated by most of what comes out of my mouth. He was probably in an especially unhumorous mood
because of being in a car accident earlier. I never cease to be amazed by the extending levels of poor drivers.

A quick salad and pasta for lunch. I only note this because the salad was delicious and I was ravenous, and the pasta was free and disgusting.

I attended 3-D art but the student who was not there Monday did show up today. I was allowed to stay in the class and worked on drawing until I ran out of ideas. After that I just watched how people worked with the clay and developed their creative ideas. It was fun to see the different ideas and different processes. I'm really mournful over not being able to participate in the class and have asked the professor to keep me abreast if someone drops out.

After that it was back home where I worked on my art portfolio until the evening. It is completed and on a CD. I will turn it in tomorrow. Cut that deadline really close, I did. The pictures could have been better, the photos of the pictures could have been better, but as it turned out our streak of sunny days ended today with rain all day long and a gloomy gray sky.

This picture almost made it into the portfolio, but not quite.

When I finished I went by the art store hoping they would still be open, but they weren't so I stopped by the Organic store next door to grab lunch for tomorrow. I am hoping that some organic food will stop the constant ache in my body. While I was there I had a lengthy conversation with the cashier, who is apparently a glass artist, who gave me his number.

A guy, gave me his number, and said we should collaborate, or anything. He said 'or anything." This has never happened to me and as I look a mess I'm not sure what to think. I thought he was delightful, but...this has never happened to me before. I didn't realize people actually gave their numbers out to complete strangers. And I looked a hot mess, acne on my face, no makeup, frizzy hair, a sweater and a scarf and a puffy coat, and crocs on my feet (I went out expecting no one to notice me, someone did, how odd). I feel a bit as if life is imitating art right now.

I missed the local artist's meeting (which is too bad because I'm supposed to start teaching ESL next week and likely won't be at the meetings for a while, unless I come very late and strait from work...good idea), because I was talking with the guy. I also didn't make it to the other art store before it closed. I guess I won't have all my supplies tomorrow morning. Ah, well.
What a day.

It's supposed to snow tomorrow, but I have a lovely morning class and I will turn in the last of my graduate packet. Then it will be up to God and the department head.

Tomorrow I hope to get the rest of my art supplies, the financial aid stuff processed, and my laundry done.

Assurance is not Always Happiness

2012-01-10T22:04:00.000-08:00

Second day of classes today, and it was certainly different than yesterday.
My 2-D class is being taught by a grad student who looks all of 23 and is, in fact, 40. Color me surprised. There were several students in the class who were in a similar situation to me, so that was encouraging. In addition, the work we're going to do in the class is interesting and unique and I look forward to really delving into that.

I also discovered the library and did some more exploring.

Introduction to Psychology was not so stimulating. In fact I suspect the professor was trying to scare people off. I happen to know psychology is very cool. She seemed to take issue with several things and I could hear her irritated voice in the class before mine. Being told I could not make a good grade without the "extra credit" was not encouraging. Developmental psychology seems far more appealing to me. However; the class is taught by three different professors so I only have to deal with her for a little while, and take her tests as she is the head instructor.

I've scheduled an advising appointment tomorrow but I feel the stress of not knowing quite how financial aid (or everything) is going to work out.

Went to FexEx to try and scan my portfolio but the scans were not pleasing. I bought two of them from my largest pieces but will probably end up just taking a photo and submitting those on a cd after cropping them. It has been hard to choose what to select as I've had no direction about the standards or goals of what the school would like to see and I've found it difficult to get the department head to respond to me. I only say this because I'm nervous, nervous that what I have is not what they want. My mother has encouraged me to submit my crafts, but cards and scrap-booking and ornaments and cotton bugs are crafts...they're not art. But, maybe I'm wrong, maybe I should be submitting those and by withholding them I'm ensuring that I don't get into the program. All that to say, it appears I won't be turning in my work on Wednesday, but on Thursday. The deadline being Friday. I actually feel sick to my stomach about it.

I find myself struggling around a goodly number of people and often irritated because of the ignorance surrounding me. I was sitting in the Baptist student building today and all these overweight, well fed, Iphone owning students were sitting around talking about ridiculousness and I couldn't help but feel that I was looking at children who should be adults and I was thinking of how this whole situation would be different if we were in a war torn country or a poor country and it bothered me how they just seem to take themselves and their lives for granted, they even complain about it. How does one deal with that?

I spent an unfortunate amount of time talking to people when I should have been working today, particularly with someone on the staff with the ... Episcopalians? An overtly gay boy (man? Can we call them men if they're still in their early 20's and without a direction?) who kept pulling at his crotch and picking his nose. It was quite a contrast to his intelligent speech. And, even though we talked for over an hour, it was enough to make me reconsider returning to talk again.

My mother is still being tested for ovarian cancer (and now for lung cancer as well) and I can feel the weight of possibility like a limestone tied to my back. I am telling myself that is why I wake up sore every morning.

My hope for tomorrow is that I will get more accomplished. I also hope to be officially admitted into the 3-D class and that I can get a syllabus for the Developmental Psychology class.

And So It Begins

2012-01-09T21:25:00.000-08:00

My first day back in college dawned bright an early. I was woken with a gasp as my dream reality decided I would be late to class. I was not late. I was suitably early.

It was beautiful feeling for January, it's too bad the trees are so ugly and leafless. I was able to get my student ID and find out what's holding up my financial aid.

My first class was lovely and encouraging. I felt much more mature than many of my classmates but not so much as to feel ostracized. I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of students in their pajamas or sweats and the university is much better than the impression I remember getting when I toured back when I was 18.

The Developmental Psychology teacher will let all wait listed students in, so that's wonderful. I also liked the way she talked, strait forward but choosing her words carefully. She emphasized how important it is to choose words (wise advice for me as I can be extraneously wordy), and also that you get what you expect. This is something I believe strongly as a teacher, and I find myself wondering if maybe I should expand that philosophy to other aspects of my life. She had some very lovely quotes, such as always/never being like curse words in her house, and "hate" being the h-word. I liked that. She is also interested in application of theory and that really perked me up. I remember a certain Sociology class at MSU which resulted in lots of thoughts about social problems and no solutions, and I remember my frustration of that. Plus, we get to do a service project!

The classes are significantly larger than any at another school I've attended but they're not the stadium-style classes I imagined, and the campus isn't impossible to traverse.

The second class, 3-D art is still in limbo. The teacher isn't taking extra students. However; one of the assigned students didn't show up. If he doesn't show up on Wednesday than I get his spot. I'll discuss that once I know whether or not I'm truly in it.

I spent some time at the BCM. It seemed nice enough, though smaller than the one at my old university, which surprises me. I talked with several people. Mostly about school and South Korea. Can I really talk about pursuing a grad degree when I might not be accepted into the program this year? I'm thinking of checking out the other faith ministries as well.

I bought some overpriced books, but that was to be expected, and wandered around a bit, had a good (loooooong) conversation with my friend in St. Louis.

I also met with my ESL employer and she gave me the books I'll need to teach and showed me around the school where I'll be teaching in the evenings and talked to me about allllll the paper work and did a little on-site training. It was good.

Caught a pizza for dinner and stuffed the rest in bags for food tomorrow. I've found all I have to do is get a veggie lover's and my siblings don't touch it. It's hilarious that they're that adverse to vegetables.

The only unfortunate things about today:
My mother's period started after more than two years without it and my father is looking like he will try to get medical retirement from the military. I worry for them, for my mother especially. I have been in a lot of pain lately. It radiates out of my feet in the mornings and kind of covers my whole spine and hands. I'm a little worried that fibromyalgia is starting to onset. But then, maybe I'm just blowing it out of proportion.

Tomorrow I've got two more classes and I need to search out the library for studying. I also need to get an advisor, print off a few things, fix my financial aid form, get a parking pass, and find a Kinkos to scan my portfolio (T-minus one more day before my goal to turn it in). I should start studying and start looking through everything for teaching as work should start in 9 days.

Wow, yes, busy day. O.o What on earth am I doing?

The Day Before

2012-01-08T18:58:00.000-08:00

I start classes tomorrow. I won't be turning in twelve pieces to the graduate people, that's for sure.

I spent most of today procrastinating and telling myself that was stupid. I consider this a huge advancement from procrastinating and not even admitting how stupid it was, as was my habit in college.

See, if I admit I'm doing something stupid I can take ownership of it, and I can decide to quit it for something smarter. Which is what I have done. I am on the tenth picture right no. I cannot say it's excellent, but much improved is not wrong.

I am concerned that because I am "self-taught" the graduate program will not accept me, and the art professors will turn their noses at me. However, I took a community class from a very talented artist, I got to weekly meetings with professional artists who give me points and show me tricks, I've read books and studied online tutorials, and I've made friends with "real" artists. And...I got published once. Not a big deal, but someone thought my work was acceptable to show the public. I say all this to defend myself against attacks that haven't begun.

I have been thinking about the last guy I kissed a lot lately. Though to be fair I've thought about him a lot since I kissed him...a year ago. I keep wondering if that was it, the last time I'll be kissed. Or worse, the last time I'll be kissed well. If it was the last time I wish I'd done more, if not than I don't know why I'm thinking of it. Except that I'm trying to make an old portrait of him into my 11th piece. That could be the source of my daily thinkings, too. Drawing him makes me ruminate. I didn't use enough contrast last time. He looks like a vampire in the old portrait; beautiful with a perfect mouth and consuming black eyes. A black heart under a sweet facade. Oh, yes, I was conflicted while I was seeing him, can you tell?

It took me quite a while to figure out all the bits and pieces of the pieces I've been working on. I want to scream "I'M NOT FINISHED! I'M NOT FINISHED!" But that's not how it works. A prime example is that I've been working on one of these pictures for three years.

So much to do tomorrow, I don't know how I'll succeed at it all.

The ladies in my cg are planning to start a book club. I haven't responded but I'm a little cautious about it. Books tend to just make me paranoid, but I'd like the chance to know them better.

I also sent a short message to one of the women's leaders at church yesterday. It was polite but strange. She has not yet responded and I think there's a fair chance she won't. I suspect the question I asked was rude, but I don't know how to go about finding out the answer without being unintentionally rude.

Ah, well.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, you're only two hours away.

No more of this procrastinating foolishness, back to work.

A little this and a little that.

2012-01-07T21:36:00.000-08:00

I'm going to start college again in two days. The school I told myself I'd never attend (don't tell them that). Well, I never thought I'd be back in Louisville either. I never ever thought I'd be going after a degree in Art Therapy.

I thought I was going to be a writer, because I had all these wonderful stories in my head.

I'm not saying I don't want to write now, I'm just a little more invested in making a difference rather than in telling my own stories. I can still write, and, who knows, now that I don't have to tell my own stories, maybe I can finish them. A kind of catharsis in the not needing to express it all. Yes, that makes complete sense.

I have also decided to post random pictures along with each post, which I hope will be many and often.

Classes begin Monday and I'll find out what class I'm teaching on Monday as well (oh, yes, I was hired as an adult ESL teacher, my value in society has been restored, along with a new dose of guilt for needing a "good" job to feel valuable. I don't feel right if I don't feel guilty for something) .

It strikes me how different I am than I was nine years ago when I began college. I'm not all bright eyed and bushy tailed, not terrified of a new step, not scattered around like dust in the wind. Nope, not dusty, decidedly muddy now. I've got a bit of water in me, a bit of life and solidity. I'm going to be in class with freshmen. I'm teaching adults and I'm going to be in class with children.

Fun, fun.

This should be interesting.

Phineas and Ferb

2011-10-11T08:09:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of times in life when I am wrong. This is one of those instances.
When I first saw the commercials for the Disney cartoon Phineas and Ferb I immediately disliked it. I couldn't believe that they had successfully launched a glaringly simplistic drawing style. Heads as shapes, little to no shading, what was this? My prejudice lead me to change the channel every time that triangle head came on, and lead me to comment in disgust about it at a local gathering of artists. One gentleman, had the wisdom to disagree with me. He said that his son liked it and he was impressed by the stories.

So, I took a look. And I was hooked after the first episode.

I now adore it. Shows with stories like these, idiosincrasities like these, they are what make tv worth watching.

My Sister and I; Being Similar doesn't make you Alike

2011-09-29T16:30:00.000-07:00

My sister and I do not get along.

We have never gotten on well. Not even when we were young. She was always following me and my friends wanted to hold her and not play with me. I think I was always a bit resentful because of a lingering sense of guilt because when she was about a year and a half old and I was nine a babysitter probably dunked her in the bath. My mother always openly attributed that night to my sister going from a "happy baby who loved the water" to a neurotic child who was terrified of water and would bang her head on the ground when she was upset and never smiled and would scream if she was in a room by herself. I've always had an overactive sense of responsibility. I always felt responsible when my parents fought, I felt responsible when we got robbed (I should have woken up, I should have known, no matter that I was 5), and I felt responsible for that too. I was there, I never should have left the room, I should have known the character of our babysitter on instinct. It's my fault those few minutes f***** her up for the rest of her life. I think I never forgave myself for it, and resented her for being so weak that a 10 minutes of a 9 year-old's life should make said 9-year-old responsible for the unhappiness of her baby sister and the disappointment of her mother.

Wow, but besides that, my sister and I are drastically different. That's me on the left, that's my sister on the right.
Well, not literally. I just mean the personas. If I was as thin as Falicia Day the world would be my oyster. Well, either that or I would become so weight obsessed I'd have to be committed. But that's a story for another blog.

What I mean to say is that my sister and I are like a pear and an apple. Our similarity is in genus, not the species. Also, I am a nerdy book worm who doesn't dress up much and my sister is the opposite.

So, we don't get along.
We are similar in some ways. We both can't get over ourselves. We're both evisceratingly (literal here) critical towards ourselves and others. We both have hard times with relationships. We both want people to like us. My sister does everything in her power to make people like her and then everything in her power to make them dislike her once they do. I do nothing in my power to make people like me. If they're not going to like me than I'm not going to try and force them and I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of handing them fodder. My sister has a hard time with relationships and trust so she flits from one date to another. I rarely date, saves me the trouble of a break up. My sister worries about her appearance so she dresses flamboyantly, with brightly colored makeup to detract from her flaws and brightly colored hair. I worry about my appearance so I go a-natural, with light make up and quiet clothes that I make sure are clean and fit well (if the real me isn't good enough than I'm not good enough, no point in hiding it), and I try to be healthy. I'm kind of health obsessed actually. My sister and I are self-focused, I take responsibility for everything and hope someone will come along and tell me it's ok and I'm ok. My sister begs people to fix her and fix her problems and hopes someone will come along to make her better.

So even our similarities cause conflict.

I feel she apologizes for the things that need no apology and doesn't apologize for the things that do. I feel she focuses on things that are not important. We have nothing to talk about.

My sister and I only get along in our mutual criticism of things. I think it is a poor legacy. I would like to change this but I wouldn't. Such is what it is. I doubt the state of this will change for a very long time.

My problem with Marriage

2011-09-24T12:28:00.000-07:00

I am terrified to get married. I mean, it is literally the stuff of my nightmares. I'm not even sure I'm comfortable with a relationship. When I look at my parents I don't want to have an emotional connection with anyone. My father lives in a fantasy world, my mother confirms all my fears. If these are my options for people, and I assume they are, than I'm screwed.

You know what else, whenever I ask about marriage people always say "you know, it's not all fun" and that freaks me out because I'm not asking if it's "all fun" I'm asking if it's "all horrible." So when I ask if it's horrible and they act like that question was "is it all fun?" then I really freak out. How horrible must it be that they would respond that way? What idiot would think that marriage is wonderful or fun?

And, everyone seems to keep the details of marriage a secret or they talk about how horrible it is. If it's good, why does everyone keep it secret? And then get divorced? And then write hundreds of books about what you're doing wrong, how you're doing it wrong, why you're doing it wrong, how to do it right. I think my father just lies and says things are great to strangers (and how can I trust anyone who says their marriage is good when he says his is good and he's lying?), and my mother is silent, because she's UNHAPPY.

Saying you want me to have a better marriage than yours but not believing that exists does not help. (edit: she does believe that better marriages exist and that I can have one, I'm much encouraged by this.)

And, if I say something like "I just feel (feel, see that, feel, I'm expressing an idea or worry or feeling; something unsolid, changeable if there is a reason to change it. This is how people can be sad today and happy tomorrow.) like what I understand of marriage is that it's this fantasy that women go into hoping to get a life partner and men go into hoping to get a sex partner" and you say "yes, of course, it's been exactly that since time immemorial," IT DOES NOT HELP.(edit: she was feeling a bit bitter at the time and applogized later. I guess she doesn't think that, or is sorry that she voiced it, I think it is sort of the same, maybe.)

Another thing that bothers me is that as a Christian I'm limited to marrying practicing Christian men, of which there aren't many and but in which there is a lot of character variety. In addition, I rarely see Christian men in "real" settings. But then, I rarely see Christians outside of church. Other Christians don't invite me out to dinner or call me on the phone to talk, or ask me to hang out. They invite me to "Church" things and "Church group" things. Nothing personal, always at arms length, you know? And I never see a Christian guy when he's not in a "Christian" setting. Volunteering doesn't count, any "performance" thing for Happy Jesus Points doesn't count. I never get to see Christian guy when he's had a bad day or he's angry or too tired. I only see them on their best behavior, which doesn't count. I have to be able to see the worst behavior and know I could deal with that. Best behavior doesn't count at all because everyone has a best behavior, but best behavior is not what a person is like every day, or even half of days, maybe not even some days. So, I never get to see what they're like for real. And not knowing for real, is not knowing at all.

I guess the upside is that whatever poison has passed unhappy marriages from my great grandparents to my mother will end with me. I won't make anyone but myself unhappy.

On Needing Time to Myself

2011-05-20T13:15:00.000-07:00

Well, today was interesting. I spent the morning at my parents' empty house and found it refreshing and relaxing, as always. My sister has pointed out that I'm more productive when I'm alone and I agree. I a got a good deal of things done. I was also fairly depressed when I arrived last night but after nearly 24 hours alone I'm feeling much better. It makes me sad to think that not only are others different in this respect but that they would find my desire for solitude irritating, selfish, or even hurtful. I find the need for constant company overwhelming, frivolous, and irritating. I only say it makes me sad because I can see how it has or might in the future hinder friendships and relationships. If someone thinks a friend hangs out at your place 5 nights a week and I'm happy to call once a week and see the friend once a week than they might be hurt or not want to open up to me because they sense a lack of commitment. When in fact, evidence of my commitment is that I actually called at all. Also, I have noticed quite a lot on OkCupid that men (maybe other women answer this way too) say that they feel that a if they have significant other than they should interact with them every day. Really? Every day? Why? Wouldn't a few times a week where the intention is purposeful be better? As in; more pleasant and a better use of time together? Maybe this is proof that I'm not cut out for marriage. I would want time to myself, maybe an entire day or two, every few weeks. Not out of resentment, it wouldn't matter how much I loved the man, but to be alone with my own mind and refuel. It would cause me a lot of anxiety if I thought that what I consider a vital part of survival someone I cared about thought of as a slight.

The Creative License

2011-05-17T14:02:00.000-07:00

Best book I've read in a long long time. Certainly the most encouraging. I'd say it's right up there with The Sacred Romance in terms of an encouraging book. And, it's got great advice, and it's witty, like The Lie That Tells a Truth. I recommend them all.

TP

2010-11-13T09:19:00.000-08:00

Will someone explain to me the point of scented toilet paper?

REALLY.

What possible purpose could it have? It's not going to cover the smell of poop, or urine, unless it's powerful enough that it's also going to cause irritation to sensitive parts. I'm certainly not comforted by the chemical smell while I'm doing my business, and frankly, it's a little insulting. Like, "You don't smell appealing down there. Like, "We think you probably smell you bad it disgusts you, or it disgusts your partner. You should rub perfume on your bits as often as possible."

Ick.

I need to learn the Korean word for "unscented."

It's been far too long since I posted

2010-11-13T06:02:00.000-08:00

Well, we can about see when things fell off the rails for me, can't we?
Well, I'm back on the train, though what train it is I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm just a passenger in this life. I wish I knew who was driving so I could steal the wheel.

I haven't been drawing too much either. Rather, I have just obsessed over one drawing in particular.

And, I stopped charting food about three weeks ago. Not a surprise that I haven't lost any weight in that time. However; I want to note that I do believe my stomach is flatter, and certainly I know my hamstrings are stronger because I can do ten of those brutal hamstring flexes without having to stop for a breather.

I've started making very simple portraits of the other non-Koreans here. Today I made one one of myself. It was intimidating. Mostly because now everyone will see how I see myself, and how I want to portray myself. Thus starts a round of drawing the women here, something I'm much more nervous about than I was or am about drawing any of the men. Men are a lot less sensitive about their faces. And, I worry that the women won't take kindly to the simple-cartoon style I've been doing the portraits in. I hope that in drawing myself I will set them at ease. I also know they're going to be a lot less thrilled than any of the guys, who will mostly be happy that someone has been thinking of them enough to draw them (or at least that's what I assume).

This is why I like drawing strangers, or flowers, or furniture, or trees. Trees do not frown and say "that looks nothing like me."

Jobs. I need to have a job in approximately 4 months. I have put off this job stuff for too long because of fear, and I look back into the past and see myself doing the same thing over and over again. I see this is one character flaw that clearly isn't going to fix itself, or lend itself to being fixed. Why am I so afraid?

Depression Poem

2010-10-07T18:58:00.000-07:00

This is a poem I wrote about a week ago. I'd been feeling depressed for a good while. It seems to have mostly lifted recently. I thought it would be a good insight into my mind, and maybe the minds of others when we're really down. Please note that I never claimed to be good at poetry. And, please forgive spelling mistakes.

Depression

What a veil should fall over me in this time
A lifeless world
There is no beauty with this ryme
I can't be heard

Hope fades and my dreams grow dead, sight dim
I cannot move
No sense, no motivation, nothing touches a limb
I will not love

I know this beast that beats me will not last
He's like a storm
Vicious, he grows weary when his victims hold fast
I know his term

Life won't end, no one cares, though I feel like death
Pain is poiniant
A fierce batle, failures, tears and I'll regain my breath
It feels different

Finally Found that H&M

2010-10-05T08:03:00.000-07:00

Well, I went shopping in Seoul on Saturday. First I shopped in Myeong-dong.

This is it:
Don't worry, it's not that intimidating once you're in the crowd. Also, having lived in Korea for 18 months helps. I'm pretty used to the crowd, and even though I got pushed around more in Seoul than I'm used to in Sangju (I got spoiled by all the space in the small town) I could deal with it.

Anyway, I found Korea's only H&M. So that was nice. I was reminded of what I had enjoyed best about Spain. Honestly, that one afternoon shopping sticks in my mind as a really good day, and it wasn't even with someone who was a friend but I had such a good time. I don't know why.

As usual it was raining. And, as usual, I had no umbrella, so I pulled my hood over my head and headed down the street lined with various stores meant for youthful money-filled pockets (you know the kind Forever 21, Starbucks, fashion glasses, make-up, Sketchers, Nike, Gucci...)
Walking into H&M is like walking into pretty, if "pretty" could be a shop. The colors and textures are pleasing, particularly to my eye. Not overly feminine but definitely feminine. Soft, various pleasant textures, styles meant to flatter all body types.

4 floors of it.

But as I was looking through the clothing, trying to figure out if I was a European size 42 or 40 or if I could squeeze into a 38 and whether or not I should even try because when the heck was I going to wear a dress, another thought occurred to me. Why did I want the clothes in the first place?

It was a little disturbing, realizing that I was probably an unwitting victim of commercial brainwashing.

Not that I've ever actually seen an H&M commercial, that's not what I mean. What I mean is the commercial culture that rules the West. Why did I want these clothes? What about these angles or styles or textures were more desirable than others? Did they get the job better? Were they sewn better? Were they easier to care for? Were they more useful?

...No...

Were they more expensive? Yes.

Why did I think they were pretty? Because a designer designed it or I'd seem something similar on people who were supposed to be important and beautiful. I did actually buy a belt because it looked similar to one I saw on TV. It's a useless belt. It goes around my middle, it holds nothing up or together, and yet I spent 29,000 won on it, because it was pretty and I thought it might make me look prettier.

But who says what is pretty?
And industry? A fashion house? Some chick on TV who've you don't know, have never met, and probably wouldn't like?

Why is what is beautiful considered worth spending on? Aren't the wild flowers beautiful? A butterfly? A frost-covered sunrise? Those things are free?

Or, have we made beauty into a commodity? A thing we buy and sell? A thing for the elite? Beauty is only to be had by those rich enough to afford it? Aesthetic only for the rich and well connected? How does that make us anything other than bigoted and classist, an entire world of status chasers?

It's sad really. Why can't we just be happy with what we have, as we are?

...

Did I mention I bought a sweater too?

Sometimes do you Just Ache?

2010-10-03T04:47:00.000-07:00

I was going to say something really profound but it left me.
Just that...you know, if I was being pursued (romantically) there's a good chance I wouldn't even know it.
And if I did realize it there's a really good chance I'd
A. run away
B. actively try and drive my pursuer away
C. barring A. and B. just stare in confusion and act a like a total 'tard.

I'm freaking hopeless.
And nobody ever touches me. Which is great for helping protect my heart but I also suspect it's psychologically damaging, like not holding a baby.

I feel like a mall art exhibit when there are Michaelangelo displays in Louvre'de Paris' out there.

Well, I Never was the Good-Enough Girl to Begin With

2010-09-13T03:33:00.000-07:00

These last seven months in Korea have certainly taught me things I never expected to learn (and haven't taught me the things I did expect). As usual, I went into the new situation with a mix of anticipation and terror (perhaps in equal parts, I felt somewhat numb through the first few weeks). I had visions in my mind of what would happen. Most of those things have not happened. I got community, but not what I was expecting, friends, but not where I was looking, growth in things I didn't want to grow in. I've experienced manifold disappointments, largely due to how very real reality is. I've experienced a lot of joy, too.

Yet, still, there is one thing that has caused me considerable turmoil. It's really something simple, and I'm sure that there are enough people out there who will consider it trite. It's not trite for me.
I've found considerable joy in the company of my unbelieving male friends.
As someone raised in a conservative home. Trained in Reformed Southern Baptist churches. Advised not even to call men of the same faith lest things be misinterpreted or I prove myself lacking in character. As all these things, how do I reconcile the joy I find in spending time with them, in talking with them, in putting up with them with what I am? How do I reconcile their joviality, their openness, their...conviviality with the downright shallow and mistrustful attitude of most people within my faith. Confessions of believers are usually facile at best and edification is generally confused with criticism. We're cowards, we are. The lot of us.

How do I reconcile my general discomfort of being among other believers (namely because of that deep deep feeling of being at a masquerade and the way that advice often obfuscates a subject more than defines it), with the mandate to not abandon believers? How do I reconcile a general distaste for the deception that is required of me at church, the rigorous sanctimoniousness I feel is expected, with the Biblical saying that if you love God you will love the Church, you will love fellow believers? I love people, fellow believers I can hardly stand. How little does that mean I love God?

How do I reconcile that even more to the joy I have in hanging out with men who are not only unavailable for marriage, but also who are unbelievers? You are like your friends.
I feel caught between a bus and razor wire. So maybe he's a bit Buddhist, and that makes me sad in a kind of deep ache because I care about him, don't want him to go to Hell, wish he could/would convert just to ease my heart, but he's my friend, and the real me is safe around him. Maybe he's about as pretentious and erudite as almost anyone I've ever me, but he's nice to me, and his pretentiousness entertains me more than it irritates me. He's layered. I like that. Maybe he's kind of scrawny, and drinks too much, but he's fun, and I like his accent, and talking with him is easy even when I hate everyone else in this stupid country. Yes, he's short, and a bit like coffee with too many shots of espresso, but he's genuine, a wears his heart on his sleeve type, and he's never afraid enough of something to let it stop him.

Yes, they curse. And sometimes they do truly stupid things. They annoy me. They've hurt my feelings a few times. But...it's worth it. It's worth it to see real people. I want to see real people. I want to be a real person. Not a real person inside, a real person everywhere.

Hey, let me be real. My unbelieving friends don't give me "looks" that tell me just how much I've fallen short. They're not off limits. You hear that, they're not off limits. Christian guys, why are you off limits to me? How do I reconcile this?

You Know You're on Farmville too Much When...

2010-09-10T21:06:00.000-07:00

I had a Farmville dream last night. Yes, I can't describe how surreal that is. I dreamed that the Farmville programmers had updated the program again. It was now a kind of interactive virtual reality. At first it seemed like my whole farm had been reset back to about level 15 and I was really bummed. A chicken pen with ten chickens and about 35 plots. Then it was that but the land seemed to stretch into the distance. Somehow I reloaded the page, though I was standing on the farm, and finally I saw my farm. It was amazing. The addition was a gymnasium, which I'd apparently recently bought to compliment the school. I could see farmhands working and people browsing the market with their kids in strollers. Kids running around, people walking through the newly opened gym. And, the bakery, open for business with fresh breads and pastries ready for sale. I stood there in shock, and had a really ironic moment where I thought 'oh my gosh! I'm rich!' Then my parents were there and I proceeded to give them a tour of the new facilities, saying I designed the place for the community.
The grass was green, and the buildings large and real. People in clothes with hair. All details there. The farmhands were shirtless, moving bales of hay. There was a large basketball court. My sister showed up and I showed her the new court. A place that stretched into the distance and I'd done it all, prepared it all, worked to build it up, and it was real, and I couldn't get my mind around it.
I wonder if this is my mind's way of saying I want things to be real, I'm tired of a 2-D picture. I want something I can show off.

Thinking of a Dream House

2010-09-09T00:09:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I taught my gifted students the concept of a dream house. I certainly hope I'm corrupting them propperly. Though I'm not even sure that a 'dream' anything is Biblical. It was all girls so I got to use the example of a dream boyfriend, which, being 11, they picked up on quite well. Gotta love the tweens.
My favorite was a girl who designed a room just for her cats. She has 9 russian blues. I also liked the one that had cloud wallpaper.

All of that reminded me of when I was a girl and I would design my own dream house. I remember spending hours designing it. Really, it looked like a fleshed out version of the house my family lived in while we were in Idaho. It had an attic and a basement, garage, two floors, and a multitude of rooms. Why? Because it was a place for a family. Ever since I was a girl. All the way back when I thought my life would play out in this perfect plan, that there would never be any real detours.

I was thinking of what my dream house would be like now. The design would be different but one thing would be the same: it would be a place for a family. A home is nothing without people to occupy it. A dream is just synaptic fire if no one shares it with you.

I've made a new goal for myself

2010-08-31T20:55:00.000-07:00

Ok, that's not entirely true. I've made about a dozen new goals for myself. Not that I'm going to show you. But, I will tell you one; Blog more often.
I even bought a book on writing non-fiction.
I have two rules:
1. It doesn't matter how long the blog is.
2. Don't whine.
I think those are reasonable goals to get me started again.
Now for the other 11....

On the topics of pets

2010-08-11T00:10:00.000-07:00

I don't know what it is but I've never been attracted to small pets. There's something about them that doesn't seem...right (I'm sitting here trying to think of a word playful/unbreakable/competitive/admirable/equal). Whatever it is I look at small pets and think...yeah, that...wouldn't make it. So, after having watched clips from Cat's 101 I've decided that I want either a Maine Coon, Ragdoll, or a Savanah (yes, I'm aware this cat is the least likely as it costs thousands of dollars and is illegal in some states).
"Heeere giant kittykittykitty."

I'm also partial to Great Danes and Mastiffs as dogs. There's nothing to make a girl feel small and feminine like walking a dog that weights 95 kg, looks like a horse, and thinks he's your cute little puppy.

I've been thinking and that's always a dangerous thing

2010-08-07T06:56:00.000-07:00

Feeling very ecclesiastical today. Vanity, all is vanity. What have I done with my life that matters in eternity? What could I stand before Christ and be proud of? Not much.

A Perfect Morning

2010-08-05T06:09:00.000-07:00

This is what a perfect Morning would look like to me:

Wake up at five in the morning to a clear blue sky and cool air. Slip on some trainers, exercise pants, and a sweater and go out for a run. Running in a safe area with lots of trees, grass, flowers, and a sidewalk in a quiet area, no car fumes to choke me.
Get home and shower. Have a quiet time while I drink some water. Eat breakfast, oatmeal with cinnamon, honey, and strawberries, and a boiled egg. Check the news and my email online. Stretch and make my bed, wash up breakfast dishes.
Leave the house around 8 or 9.

2 AM Ramblings

2010-08-02T10:26:00.000-07:00

I've been reading again. That's never a good thing. I've also been imbibing massive amounts of meat lately thanks to the caterers at my school and my period is going to start in a few days. What does this mean for you, the reader? Well, it means that I'm a tired, half cold-infested, hormone packing person, who's been reading.
So far I've restrained myself from putting the PB&J in the freezer, taking apart an electric tooth brush, and cooking a bunch of Pad Thai, so I'd say that I'm still salvageable. I've been reading Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs. I like his name. I think if I ever get published I could do it like that. It's very rhythmic. A.W. Towzer, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien (he had two middle names?).

As I've read the book I've found it funny and very informative. I've also found it to be something I relate...almost perfectly to. And here I sit, wondering, why do I find it so relate-able? Is it because this guys works for Esquire and therefore has the skills to write to the general masses? Is it because of the bit of facetiousness in that the author assumes that he's a bit smarter than average but treats the reader as an equal? Do I relate because I like feeling a little smarter than average? Am I actually a bit smarter than average and that's why I relate? Do I relate because this is a tale of a man who is knowledge obsessed, just as I am? Me, who finds the idea of memorizing the dictionary a noteworthy goal. Is it because it's about a man who is slightly socially awkward, who shared too much and never quite knows the exact right thing to do, and how I feel that I am very similar? Is it because it's a story of a geeky man with an IQ complex, and I am a geeky woman with an IQ complex?

You know, an IQ complex. It's for people who are a little smart, or fancy that they are, but realize that they're not geniuses. They know they'll never win a Nobel, never have a hospital wing named after them, never contribute something absolutely astounding to society. And yet, they are smarter than your average Joe, smarter by just enough to notice it, to feel it, and to hate it. They are torn by feeling superior to the average man and vastly inferior to the genius. These are the people who hear "You sure know a lot" and "You're pretty smart" often, but never "That's amazing!" or "OMG! I wish I could do that!" I am coming to the conclusion that there are only two things for people like us to do. 1. Procreate (really, we're the best candidates for it. Not so intelligent that our lives will end in suicide or homicide but smart enough that we might at least contribute to a cleaner environment, trustworthy services, and the neighborhood watch) or 2. Write a book. As far as I can tell we're pretty useless for anything else. Too smart to like ourselves, too dumb to make other people envy us. Sometimes I wonder if I should just get my slow decline into stupidity over with by bashing my head into a wall or snuffing glue (though that would probably result in puking, which I hate). Heck, who knows maybe I'd be able to find a husband then. It does seem that all the more average ones are married (and the really smart ones, and the nice ones, and the ugly ones, and the mentally ill ones....).

Since I have thus started to digress into the level of purgatory known as "Why can't I find a bleeding husband?" I'll stop myself now.

Know-It-All is a laugh out loud book for anyone with neurosis and a desire to win at Boggle. I would definitely suggest it, and give it a solid 4 out of five Korean bubble stickers.
'Night all.

A dream

2010-07-20T15:50:00.000-07:00

You know how sometimes you have really odd dreams? Well, last night my dream was exceptionally odd. Though, considering that I slept for 13 hours strait I suppose my brain had to come up with something.

Here is a reality; if I'm falling asleep at work I tired enough that I'm going to sleep through yoga.

Point of my dream: I had a husband. mahahahahaha! He was a king, in a magical kingdom. Even BETTER. Oh, and he loved me, it wasn't a political marriage. And he was very accepting of the fact that I knew nothing about his world.

At first there was this group, an evil sorceress and her minions. One was a very large ogre. He had tusks. He was very grumpy because he didn't think he could find anyone to love him.

Somehow they got to the "real" world. And somehow there ended up being a girl under spell. Not a sleeping spell, but a spell.

And there was a prince. Two princes actually, and two girls needing them. But the one prince kissed his girl and nothing happened. She asked if it was supposed to be like that. Maybe he wasn't her true love. But this just made him angry (a good kind of angry) because he was her true love and he was going to prove it. So he kissed her again. This time his determination to be the one to love her freed her. And the her was me. And now I was a queen, and had a king. I kept calling him "my king." And, the best part was that I could touch him whenever I wanted. I followed him around a lot. It was fun.

It was a good dream, and one I was sad to wake from.

And way better than previous ones from last night, which were odd, and involved old men being in love with teenagers and ditches in the woods and cemeteries. Odd, odd, odd, and not something that needs to be shared in detail.

An Imperfect Analogy, but it works

2010-05-18T07:32:00.000-07:00

I am in Oregon. Oregon is nice. I like Oregon.

There's just one hiccup. See, God has said to fast until we get to Florida. So, no eating until you get to Florida. Well, you can eat, it's just bad, and you'll feel guilty, and it will screw up food for you for the rest of your life, and God will be disappointed. It's not that food is bad, though some people seem to think that wanting food is bad, it's just not supposed to be partaken of until Florida.

Now I'm fasting. I've been fasting for a long time. And, frankly, I want to go to Florida. But people say to me "Oregon is nice, why would you want to leave? Why wait until Florida?" "What if you get there and Florida has really crappy food?" "You know, there are alligators in Florida!" To them I say "You're already eating. I want to go to Florida."

Some say to me "Man doth not live by bread alone." To them I say "Your stomach clearly isn't growling the same way mine is. I want to go to Florida."
Now I know that getting to Florida takes time. It's a journey. You don't want to rush it and end up in the swamps or something, because if you're entirely mosquito bitten even the best food won't be worth it. But...I'm starving. And, I'm not going to eat till I get to Florida.
Some people are fasting but they like to smell the food. Others go as far as to lick it. Some even try drinking milkshakes and saying they're not "eating," some imagine how it'll be to eat.

I'm not doing any of that, but I have to say that you get to a certain point in the fast and you notice every time there's food around. Whether it's just laying there or someone else is eating, you notice. I notice.
Yes, God is good. I don't think he ask me to fast to punish me.
But I have this to say:
I want to go to Florida.

I had this dream

2010-05-14T19:40:00.000-07:00

Last night I had this dream that people were disappearing. These men in black types were just plucking them off the street or out of the grocery store. At first there was a woman trying to find her friend, then it was a man trying to find the woman. They were in a big warehouse grocery, and behind the grocery was another warehouse. Depending on what door you opened it was empty or it was full. The empty one was where the men were, where the woman and her children were. To get to these people, the most recent abducties, he poisoned some woman who was a drug addict. She thought she was sniffing coke but it was some prescription drug that overdosed her. She had a daughter who he apologized to. Then he and I (though I may have been the woman who was abducted, or one of her children, or all of them) fought Kick-Ass girl style to get away from the men. They/we drove a car, ran over people, plowed through doors to get out and it all ended with the warehouse exploding and children in the back seat.

I became aware again as I was standing in a muddy field in Alaska. After a little while my father was there. Of course, I thought, if I'm fighting like this and using guns, of course my father is here. He tells me that this is where the family lives now, and it's been four months. I'm a little peeved and I say that things that keep transporting me places (this has happened before? a part of me wonders) out to do it faster. I get to the house and we have a farm. It's not as far away from other farms as I thought it would be and I'm happy for that. It is pretty muddy though. There are two dogs now, and goats and chickens and my mother feeds them. My brother is there, and my sister, though she's younger. There is also a guy who asks to stay with us. I'm dubious at first but it is allowed. I worry that the people who we retaliated against four months ago will come after us. I see a man all made of bronze walking past the window. I get very upset and go out to confront this thing. I fight it and it turns into something else, something benign. My sister is there, though whether she's my true sister or the daughter of the abducted woman or the daughter of the ODed woman I can't tell. She has the power to make things appear and she wanted to scare us because she wasn't allowed to go out. I am so angry at her selfishness, maliciousness, and how spoiled she is.

There was more to the dream. Something involving a room, but I can't remember it now. However, it was rather storyish and sequential so I thought I'd write it down.

Had an odd dream last night

2010-05-11T15:17:00.000-07:00

Well, for the record, most dreams are odd.
My dream went like this: I was leaving Korea to go to Ireland. I had made many friends in Korea and they all kept wanting to do last minute things with me, promising they'd help me get my flight (I hadn't booked it yet, it seemed more like getting a bus ticket than a flight) an get there on time, but I hadn't even finished packing, because people kept wanting to do things with me. Most of my friends seemed to be male. There was even a guy who confessed his love, which I awkwardly avoided saying anything about. This same guy said he'd get me to my flight, but at 30 till I thought we should go. Instead he convinced me to wait. We got there and there was a line. We took a number but all the numbers were off. We bought a ticket just as the plane left from a water dock. I was quite upset. I went to this absolutely tiny hotel room to pack. I started packing but got distracted by friends, then I said I really had to go, I'd already missed the flight once. They said they'd pack for me. I missed the flight again. At this point they said I'd have to wait until morning. I was very upset. I went back to this small room and began packing again. I packed all I could into two duffel bags. Now there were people coming into the hotel room. They were supposed to stay here, I was supposed to leave. It was people I used to know. A man and a woman. One was skyping M, an old friend of mine. I asked him if he could keep the hangers, I said they were expensive. Then I told them they could keep the roller blades too. Not my new ones, an old pair that I'm not sure I ever owned. Finally I went back to the plane station, and missed the flight AGAIN. At this point I decided it was better to sit there for hours than miss again. I was wondering how I'd get a hostel in Dublin when I hadn't booked. One of my friends suggested I take the bus to the next place the plane would stop. I was incredulous. How would a bus out travel a plane? But he was adamant. I went out onto a long dock and sat down to wait for the bus, but a flight attendant came and said that the bus had been canceled and the next flight was coming so all the people waiting for the bus went back to the plane area. We got on the plane, part cruiser, part sesna, and buckeled in. The seats were set up in circles, which is better than the "eat in" plane that was an option that involved messy meals, small pets, and children. Suddenly I wasn't in Korea, I was in Australia, and I wasn't going to Ireland, I was going to Korea, and I was going to be late. An 8 hour flight started at 6 in the morning will still result in not coming to work. Suddenly I was stressed out, I needed to call my work, tell them I'd be late. There was another girl beside me in the same situation. I figured I could use the in-flight phones and I hoped C wouldn't be too mad at me.
Dream over.
*sigh* if only I'd still been going to Ireland in the end.

Speaking the same language vs. communication

2010-05-11T05:00:00.000-07:00

Before I go into this issue I just want to point out that the police officers here look to be all of about 14 years old. 14 years old and carrying big sticks. I'm not sure whether to respect them or pat them on the head.

Ok, language. Language is a funny thing, and as I've learned, often has very little to do with communication. It's the ideas that bring communication. Ideas are key. If we could create a language that conveyed specific ideas than we'd probably never be confused again. Sadly that probably won't happen in this world.

Some prime examples come from the Korean-English Gap (as I have named it). The Gap is that space between English words and Korean ideas where any understanding of what the other person is talking about gets lost.

"Okay" is a good example. In English "Okay" can be a few things; a filler word, a word stating your condition, or an agreement. AN AGREEMENT. If one is given an option, "okay" is not an answer because okay is a response to some sort of argument. Apparently this is no so in Korean.

"Yes" and "No" have similar issues in Korean ideas vs English words. In Korea yes and no are given as answers to decision questions "You wanted to go to the store, right?" but in reverse to English. Therefore I never know what a Korean is actually saying when they say "Yes" or "No" to a question that I've posed. I keep trying to have them answer in full sentences but that's difficult.

Another example is "prepare," which takes on an entirely new meaning in the Korean mind. For them it can me, get, buy, get ready, bring, make available. They don't even imagine that it might mean "make."

I had a point here...
It's just that, language is more than words. You can say lots of words and not make a lick of sense. Particularly if the words mean something different to you than they mean to someone else. Things can get confusing, people can get hurt. It's the ideas you have to collaborate, communicate.

Communication is key.

An Update on my weekend

2010-05-09T06:43:00.000-07:00

Well, I've had a rather productive weekend.
That's unique since the last two (three?) weekends have been spent away from Sangju and certainly not doing much productively at home.
I went shopping, three times I think, and finally managed to get everything I had on my list after visiting several stores. I now have those Korean staples of dried seaweed, rice, and onions. No tofu. I have enough estrogen in my body. Bought fruits and veggies. Have yet to wash the apples, but I don't think that small amount of laziness will damage me in the long run. I can wash the apple before I eat it.
Finally began to use my Brita filter. Boiled the water first, then filtered it. I've spoken to a few people (mainly guys) who have drank (drunken?) the water in S.Korea to no ill effects but my coteacher S suggested boiling it first. So, boiling water may become part of my daily routine. However, I will say that if I am super thirsty I'm not above just filtering and drinking. A little stomach bacteria now and again is good for you. (-;
I had the hardest time finding just one onion for sale. Even at the market they wanted to sell me a whole bowl of onions. The conversation went like this "[Korean]hello" "[Korean]welcome, want anything?" "[Korean]this, one." "[Korean]4,000 won" "No no, just one onion, not the whole bowl." "[Korean] you get the whole bowl." "sigh" "[Korean]3,500 won" "but I don't want the whole bowl, I want just one" "Do you want the bowl in a bag?" "sigh. thank you. no. bye." Finally someone suggested Home Mart and I was able to buy two small onions for something like 170 won (or 17 cents).
The truly difficult thing to find was hangers.
Now I just need to get myself an air purifier so I can actually BREATHE.
Ah, yes, I also bought plants. I now have a pot of tiny tomatoes, a pot of something green, a slightly bigger though still small pot of a vine, and a medium pot of another vine. Oh, and an empty pot and lettuce seeds. I need to get dirt. Real dirt, not the sand outside. If I'm growing my own lettuce for eating it's darn well going to be with real dirt.
One thing I didn't buy was trash bags. I probably should have, but by the time all that shopping was done I just wanted to go home.
Speaking of home; I cleaned. I mean, I really cleaned. Three weeks I haven't cleaned and at least 5 since I really scoured the place. I used the swiffer (several times) to get all the dust and dirt out cleaned the bathroom. Cleaned the door handles, washed and dried the clothes, cleaned the counter tops and the cabinets, and dusted the tv and the ledges and the sills. My apartment looks like a proper apartment now. One owned by someone who likes veggies, plants, green, and books. Which is perfect because that is exactly what I like.
I also think I've finally discovered a system in which I can keep the dirt from outside from coming in AND avoid my socks being contaminated. However, it may require me buying another mat.
I am also contemplating getting either a scarf or a baseball cap, whichever costs less at some point as it is getting very very hot.
A mosquito net has been suggested by one Korean and rejected by another. Perhaps the one didn't understand what I meant. Not that I'm adverse to a mosquito net, I just don't want a canopy unless I need one. I'm more of a "green girl" than a "girly girl." ...If that makes any sense.
Ah, yes, and I bought beef (and failed to boil some eggs, but I did boil some potatoes). Not organic. They don't put the prices on the beef at the organic place but 6 apples are 9,000 won. I don't think I can afford the beef.
Tomorrow should be interesting.

Awesome Things

2010-04-22T07:56:00.000-07:00

#1 Ho-dok. Grilled pancakes with the stuff that goes in cinnamon rolls put inside. Fantastic.

#2 Weekly markets. It's just cool and old school.

#3 Safety. Whatever problems Korea has it's very safe. Even as a foreigner I feel safe. I don't know if it's the lack of guns, or the familial cultural identity, or the self-policing, but I love the results.

#4 the KTX. Fast, clean, and cheap. Public transportation here pretty much removes the need for a car.

Some annoying Things

2010-04-22T07:40:00.000-07:00

#1 Almost no one looks both ways before crossing the street. Really, did you miss that assembly in school? The one where they told you to look both ways before crossing the street. The one that keeps you and others from becoming road kill? The best time to avoid an accident is more than a split second before it happens.

#2 Mopeds. You know, vehicles should follow road rules. And you mopeds, YOU'RE VEHICLES. This means that it's insane (that's right, I said it, insane) to ride on the sidewalk, swerve in and out of traffic and generally do whatever you please.

#3 No lines. Really, no cuing/lining up, is really annoying. I know it's a balibali (faster faster) culture, but if you lined up it would actually make things go faster rather than everyone just grabbing at what they want.
#4 People having only one skill. What happened to well rounded people? If you endeavor to know about the world at large rather than just your own skill than you can know if someone else is doing a good job and not just hope, because everyone is human and makes mistakes and it's good to be aware when mistakes are being made rather than just suffering through them.

#4 One word for many things but rarely many words for variations of one thing. This is actually just part of my frustration with Koreans thinking that English language culture is strange/odd/offensive/stupid. And yes I'm annoyed that certain Americans that I know respond the same way to other languages. Korean is a much vaguer language than English as far as I can tell. Annoying, but not offensive, so please stop treating English like it's ridiculous. It'll help keep me from feeling that Korean is ridiculous.

#5 Lack of facial expressions. How the heck am I supposed to know what you're thinking and how to respond if you don't tell me AND I can't read it on your face?!

#6 Lack of adhering to rules/consistency. Before I came to Korea I didn't really consider myself a rule person. No, I wasn't a rebel, but I didn't think order was that important to me. It is. Having rules that everyone follows unequivocally and knows makes life so much easier and smoother. Having all the rules be bendable depending on the situation is confusing and stressful and leads to slower function and chaos.

#7 Saving face. You now, I know that other cultures aren't more wrong than more own, just generally different, but this is something I'll never be able to accept. Anything that promotes people not being themselves, suicide, and lying is something that will always leave a bad taste in my mouth. I understand that this means I'll probably never marry a Korean.

My First Class; Art

2010-03-26T17:17:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd show you the masks that I made for my first class, art. At first I was showing students pictures of the actual masks but the students were trying and failing to mimic those so I made some more manageable masks.
They are cougar, buffalo, bull, raccoon, bear, bird, wolf, and owl.

And the art room
And a student's mask.

My Apartment

2010-03-26T17:06:00.000-07:00

My apartment. Finally!
Welcome. ^_^

The front door. I think I have the entree way somewhere...

The bed

The living room. ^_^

The laundry room.

The kitchen

Ah, here we go. The entree way.

The bathroom

My bicycle.

The view out my main window. Aaaand,

the study.

Thus ends the tour of my luxury apartment. What is the rent for such an extravagant place, you might ask. Well, I have no idea (though I've heard it's around 400,000 won or $370). I work for rent.
I hope you enjoyed yourself. Come back again soon. Bye!

Some of the entertainment of being ADHD

2010-03-25T06:32:00.000-07:00

Being ADHD is one of those unique experiences that it's difficult even to describe unless you have it. I can understand why so many people are skeptical. However , it's very real. And, at times, very entertaining.
As I work with people who aren't ADHD I see the differences between us. It's the little things really.
For example; it's the fact that I monitor one of my classes by sliding around in an office chair and using the desks for leverage rather than walking. It's in the fact that I'll sprint up stairs or run a block just because I get bored walking, that I ride a bike quickly because even a bike seems too slow. It's in the way I forget almost everything once before I remember and and loose my trains of thought almost as often as I have entire trains of thought. It's in my fidgetyness and up-and-down-ness and emotionalness and my quirky jokes and that I'm the only one who colored my name tag.

Still, I like to think that those things make me stand out and aren't too annoying. I managed to get my job done and get to work on time. And that, to anyone who knows me, is an achievement.

Opening thoughts with A Grief Observed

2010-03-25T00:38:00.000-07:00

I must admit, I'm only a few pages into Lewis' A Grief Observed and I already feel the need to say something. In my life I have no experienced grief in the way most have. That is; none of my loved ones have died. Perhaps God has been gracious to me, perhaps I haven't loved well enough. I don't know which is more truth. Whatever the answer, death has not touched me so intimately and yet I feel as though I have spent most of my life in mourning for a thing I could not define. That feeling of bereivement has been an almost constant companion in my life since my early teen years. In some ways I feel as though I have mourned more than most, though I believe I have lost less.
All that being said, I fear the reality that has not come to me. At the same time I hope to one day love someone with such a strength that the grief of their loss would allow me write an entire book. It would be a privillage to love like that, no matter the cost.

After a month

2010-03-22T16:27:00.000-07:00

I've been in South Korea for a month now. Hard to believe, I know.
The yellow sand has begun.
And I have a wonderful bike to get me around town.
I went to church in Sangju for the first time last week. That was interesting. Presbyterian. I'm having to adjust to different denominations in the same church. It's one thing to say "yeah, I'm happy that you're my brother/sister with different ideas" and another thing entirely to live with it.
The church is quite small (12 members, maybe) and they sit on mats on the floor. They all eat lunch together but from last year I figure that's normal.
Other interesting cultural occorances.
I got taken out by some of my sweet coteachers for doksomethingoranother, not dokgalbi, not dokbegi. Darn, forgot. Anyway, it's spicy rice cakes and kimbap. And, over the course of the meal I was informed that men will like me more if I get my ears pierced and straiten my hair...because men find pierced ears and straitened hair more beautiful. It was definitely one of those cultural things that I had to take a second and step back for. I told them I thought guys often had different tastes in what they preferred and that maybe the magazines lied. They were quite surprised by this.
Other cultural things:
Principals asking favors of me.
Things not happening until the last minute and feeling like I can't prepare.
Working extra hours. Surprised? No way.

I found the local community gym. It actually looks quite nice and if I can force myself up at 6am regularly than I should be able to go work out.
Right now I have a headache, actually the hungover feeling is probably a migraine. Particularly because I didn't drink anything last night, or yesterday, or the day before.

I'm curious, what do you think of the social and cultural differences between different denominations and/or countries? How should they be responded to? How do you give grace to people you disagree with while still voicing your disagreements?

I'm back in South Korea

2010-03-13T04:41:00.000-08:00

Well, I was planning to go to Seoul today. One really must visit Seoul as soon as possible once you arrive in Korea. It will give you the neccessary contrast. However, I didn't finish doing my weekly cleaning until almost 3. Largely because I played on the internet for a couple of hours. So, I'll go tomorrow.
I thought about going to Gumi but since I've never been there before I'd rather go knowing I'm meeting someone so that was out as well.
Instead I went to the nearest bike shop and bought a used bike for 60,000 won (roughly 55 dollars). The tires are new and the chain is good. The breaks also have good tread and it's clean. The back break is good though the front break is pretty mushy. I don't know whether I should tighten the break myself or take it back to the shop (which is also a bike repair shop) to have the break tightened. It has a basket and a place on the back for bungee cording boxes. It also has a little horn and it came with a lock. The handlebars were loose at first but I showed the shop owner and he tightened them.
I then rode to Emart where I bought a small plastic drawer for my socks, a pillow, a place mat, and some wall hooks. I think I'm going to be sore tomorrow. I haven't ridden a bike in probably two and a half years. Haha, I was rather embarrassingly wobbly for the first ten minutes or so.
I'll go to Seoul tomorrow morning. But, I can't spend as much because I chose to buy the bike today. I'm going to be sore tomorrow.

Now, for all of you who know me, and for those who don't. The tooth feels fine. I'm still amazed that I even had to have an emergency root canal. I spoke with some other EPIK teachers yesterday who also go to the same dentist and said he's very good and his prices are quite reasonable. I think reasonable is an understatement, they're fantastic.

Ah, yes, would you like to see where I'm living?
Well, it's Sanju. That would be almost-the-middle-of-nowhere-south-Korea, as opposed to Seoul which is everything-is-here-south-Korea.

My apartment complex. Well, not just mine. It is also home to another elementary school teacher, and three other EPIK teachers. There are a handful of families with children and many singles. Probably because of the size of the apartments. I don't think I'd be able to share this space with even a spouse. In defense of the families here, there are also two room apartments here. And, yes, you read that right, not two bedroom, two room. ^_^ Welcome to Asia.

This is the view of the town to the left of the apartments.

This is the view three or four blocks past the previous image.

I'll show my actual apartment in another post.

There was a prayer meeting tonight but I didn't know where or when so that was kind of out. There's also a party tonight but I was out last night and I try to make it a habit to never drink more than once in a week. Also, I'm waking up pretty early. At least with the bike I can get to the bus station in less than half an hour.

Some powerful lyrics

2010-01-16T19:23:00.000-08:00

Stop and take a few minutes to listen to this song if you can.

Abide with Me
Originally written by Henry Lyte
Redone on the Indelible Grace CD by MP Jones

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Thou on my head in early youth didst smile;
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile,
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee,
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me.

I need Thy presence every passing hour.
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

Thoughts on money and its uses

2010-01-13T07:37:00.000-08:00

I've been reading proverbs lately, along with many members of my church. Talk about heavy stuff. Think The Dao, but making sense. Last week focused on work. I came to two conclusions: I'm lazy, that needs to stop now.

This week is on finances. Generally there is nothing that will make me run faster in the opposite direction than discussions on finances. And why not? I have a credit card, and enough debt that I fit the bill for those stupid debt reduction commercials.

However, the church I attend is wise and discreet and blunt as always, as is its gift, and I have listened and submitted my mind humbly to the study of moneys. As such I've come to a few conclusions, I'd like to share them:

My debt is evidence of my lack of good and wise use of money. Of all the arguments for credit card debt, all the excuses, there's too much sin, too much impulse buying of that last minute Big Mac to excuse it. Yes, I have very little money. Yes, I generally have next to no money. In college I had pathetically little money, and I didn't use it wisely, and I was lazy, and I was a basket case. My debt is negative and it cannot be accredited to wisdom.
Money is a tool. We don't earn it, it's not ours to delight in because we did such a great job, its a gift from God for a purpose.
We would all do better if we stopped seeing things as exclusively ours. Perhaps God understands that we tend to be like children, breaking Christmas gifts two hours after we got them. Perhaps he doesn't give us things so that we might treat them with the respect they deserve. All things are on loan to us. It's like we're house-sitting. You don't destroy someone else's property, even if you're living on it.
Since money isn't something we can boast about (not ours, boasting would be silly), and it's a tool, than spending it on anything our heart desires is foolish. That would be like getting an electrical screw driver and driving screws into the walls all willy-nilly. Also, makes it more likely that you'll end up getting jabbed by your own screws. Spending money every thing your heart desires adds more temptation to be greedy, selfish, and lavish.
Being lavish is bad. It shows a lack of understanding in what money is and it relation to you or me to go around saying "I can buy that, and I can buy that, and I can buy that..."
Trying to keep up with the Jones, get respect or honor through possessions or money, or perceived position is evidence of a fear of man. Living beyond your means is unwise, no matter your excuse (and I'm excluding business loans and college government loans, because these are neccessary, but nothing else).
Using your wealth to boast is crude, it mocks God's grace. Wealth is your money, your possessions, your time, your salvation, your family and friends, and your talents. Boasting is crude, it's arrogant, selfish, and puts yourself above other people. Which you're not. I'm not. We're not.
Not giving offering is selfish and a robbing of the church, even if you don't like the church. As such I'll be giving offering both to my home church and the church I visit this year.
A wise man neither pretends to be poor when he's rich or pretends to be rich when he's poor. This country is filled with rich men who think they're poor because they're comparing themselves to the next economic layer, and full of poor men climbing the economic levels via an invisible ladder of debt. We are fools, all of us.
Money can make your life easier and fill your belly but getting everything you want won't make you happier.
Working hard and earning money, saving money, spending money is good. But you have to hold it with loose hands.
Always wanting more things will require you to constantly pursue more money or to fall into foolish debt and a life of bluffing. None of these are wise.

A Special Blessing at Starbucks

2009-12-27T19:05:00.000-08:00

I've got ideas bouncing around in my mind but I'll try and keep them rather linear and only a couple to a post.

Tonight I went to a Starbucks. I bought a...vanilla something machiato (or toxin-laced sugar-flavored caffeine, as I think of it. Note that this didn't stop me from buying one). I was dissapointed to see that the comfy chair near the bay window was taken, and as I had no interest in impeding on the space of the guy sitting at the window (he'd also taken over the lamp table beside the other chair and the table in front of him, obviously stating with his books that he had a wide bubble right now) I moved to the comfy red chair near the back. Sadly, it was near the bathroom and the escape door. I felt a little like I'd been put in a corner but I wasn't going to sit on one of those hard chairs, if I wanted a hard chair I would have gone to Heine Bros, and it didn't smell.

So, I sit there thinking that I could have my quiet time, but deciding against that because I didn't want to think too hard and quiet times are hard thinking things. You never crack open the Bible for a foray into mindlessness. So, I'm sitting there sucking down my drink, grateful that I can't taste the coffee, wondering if there actually *is* any coffee in this, or just sugar, munching on a cupcake that's not nearly as tasty as it looked, contemplating the sensation of unshaven legs and I overhear a conversation.

Now, all this time I'm trying to get my mind on Dresden Files. Yes, I bought pulp fiction on super sale at Borders. But, despite the entertainment of a magician driving a vw bug I couldn't help but listen. Now, I'd seen this couple as I walked by to my little corner near the bathrooms. They looked like they were studying but I didn't catch the books. I wondered if they were studying the Bible. In this town, if you see someone at a coffee shop studying there's a decent chance they're studying the Bible, but I blew it off because it wasn't a coffee shop near any significant Bible school, Seminary, or church. I was wrong.

So, I'm sitting there and the caffiene hits me and I can feel the blood rushing through my veins. I figure the two are a couple, or studying for school. My skin feels like it's shifting wrong over my soul. This isn't a particularly foreign feeling to me. It's like wearing a jacket that's too tight, or jeans that you've worn every day for a week and are staring to feel a bit grungy. It's that feeling of trying to flex your legs in a cramped space and only being able to shift around a bit. It's the feeling of being in a room filled with bodies and smells and you just wish you could step out into the cold night air and take a deep deep breath. It's all those feelings but it's deep deep down inside, beyond my heart, but in every corner of my mind, deep in my gut but not touching a single organ. There but not, beyond, encompassing. It occurs to me that this is an odd place to feel this way. I thank God that I will die some day and I listen to this conversation that those two are having.

After a short time it becomes apparent that the gentleman (not even my age, probably) is sharing the gospel with the woman. They're studying the Bible. She's asking distracting questions like "so, are you a Baptist?" and "Do you think drinking is a sin then?" and he's rebuffing it all gently and turning it back to Scripture. My heart (wait, when did I switch to present tense?) sores.
I wasn't thinking about anything else anymore, I was eavesdropping on this amazing and unexpected conversation. At first I worried that the Gospel wasn't being being presented properly, or not at all, but those fears were quickly disproven (<-hey, is that a word?) and I felt this deep joy welling up in me. I prayed that she would hear the Word beyond her obvious interest in the gentleman. I prayed that he would speak true, and I listened with a happy heart to the Truth.

I also drew them. I think the girl noticed. It was all I could do to hold back. I wanted to hug the guy for blessing my evening so. I wanted to interrupt to tell him he was brave and gallant and wonderful and I knew that doing that would botch the whole thing and seem a bit odd especially since he was obviously doing fine on his own. So, instead I listened in and rejoiced that the Word was being shared and then I left.

I wonder, that stirring inside me, would I have ever listened into that conversation if it hadn't distracted me from my book? Would I have ever been blessed if something hadn't turned my thoughts Heavenward first? And why that coffee shop? Why that hour? I think God brought me there to pray for those two while the Gospel was being shared, and to bless me with hearing the Joyous News. How serendipitous, how ironic, how wondrous. Where two or more, it says. How interesting then that two were brought together in one Spirit, though we didn't even know each other.

Depression isn't a sin but Despair is?

2009-12-02T08:38:00.000-08:00

I must admit, I find myself rather confused. I have been struggling particularly with my own self worth lately (forever?) and I rather tearfully told the women in my cg about it. I was encouraged to pray and repent of the lies I was believing, and at the time it seemed like a good idea, particularly because I knew they were trying to help me and because I felt I'd been disruptive enough, it would have seemed exceptionally rude to throw my heart out there and then question their methods of trying to heal it, you know? Ironically, I didn't do a lot of praying (out loud), but by the time my little mouth barfing was done I was already drawing all those feelings back inside. Even now I worry that I may have hurt a feeling or two with my rather abrupt step-in, and I'm keenly aware that about 1/3 the women didn't get to give prayer requests due to the episode that my own turned into, and I am sad for that. No one should get left out.

Now, I feel better this morning, but I wonder if it's because of their prayers for me, or my own going along with the prayers asking forgiveness, or simply because I was shown gracious love when I was feeling so unlovely. Or, perhaps a combination of the three.
But, why is believing lies supposed to be a sin? And despairing something that's supposed to be repented of? Is there any place in the Bible where a prophet or believer confesses the sin of believing lies or of despairing? What about Elijah? Isn't he called the depressed prophet? And yet he's also one of the spiritual examples in our Faith. Did God tell Job to repent of his emotional turmoil? Was Hannah called sinful and ungodly? Did Jesus heal the depressed man? And in articles and books I've read on lies I can't recall them being called sins. I've read about sins leading some people to feel sullen, or angry, to throw temper tantrums, but what about when that's not the issue? Or, if it's not? Is it right to "repent" and ask forgiveness for something that may not need to be forgiven? Or, are all these things considered to be part of the sin of unbelief? Or is it selfishness that's supposed to be the sin you're repenting of? I think I heard something about that last night, that self-hate is a kind of pride. I'd love someone to explain that one to me. And, why on earth would that help someone who's already feeling bad already? Is every unpleasant feeling, every plaguing unhappiness, every struggle for footing, a sin? This seems to be rather a large gray area to me.

I honestly don't believe depression is a sin, but how many of the effects of depression are? And is one less holy for being more susceptible to self-hating lies and despair than others are?
I'd love applicable Bible verses to this specific issue if anyone's got them.

A tattoo for the Adventurer

2009-11-28T19:41:00.000-08:00

So, I've finally decided to get a tattoo. When I secure my next job. I'm sure many people would be up in arms about it if they knew it, but it's been a long time in coming. My little sister even has a tattoo already, my father has...several, my brother has three (two? four?). My mother has a strong aversion to pain and it somewhat fragile beside that so she'd never get her ears pierced, let along get a tattoo. Anyway, that leaves me, the oldest sibling, still sans tattoo.

I think tattoos are a good and literal way to remind yourself of something and tell the world about it. I want my first tattoo to be rather small, on the back of my right shoulder, maybe two or three inches long. I want it to be a rather delicate Christian fish made out of a simple Celtic knot. Because, there are two things that I am before I am anything else. I am a Christian, and I am Irish (ok, not Irish per say, I'm my surname, but I'm not going to put that on here).

Then, if that goes well I'd like Isaiah 6:5-8 (And I said: "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth and said: "Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for." And I heard the voice of hte Lord saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then I said, "here am I! Send me.") written in Hebrew (ה וָאֹמַר אוֹי-לִי כִי-נִדְמֵיתִי, כִּי אִישׁ טְמֵא-שְׂפָתַיִם אָנֹכִי, וּבְתוֹךְ) on the back of the other shoulder.

I want that verse because I think it's such a beautiful picture of what salvation and repentance and being a Christian looks like. We're these unexpected, imperfect people, and something has happened. Something great and overwhelming and we're overwhelmed by the reality of our own inadequacy. Then, before any change has been made, before we've fixed ourselves up, before we're good to go, God in all his Grace and Glory takes the fire from a sacrifice we didn't offer and cleanses us. Our best and our worst is made pure by Him and for Him. And then he offers a call, and because of what's been done we cry, in all our imperfection made pure, Here am I! Send me. Such is the life of a Christian. At least, that's how I perceive it to be. And here is the mystery, we strive for perfection but just as our good deeds don't save us, they don't perfect us either. The Christian life is a dichotomy choice and predestination hold hands in us, freedom and slavery, too. How then, being a slave to Christ, but freed from death, do you live in freedom?

As I said, there are many who will not be happy about my choice, but I believe that they are in discreet areas and won't cause trouble with work and also that they are in areas that won't sag too badly with age. Maybe I'll ask for them to be brown. I know that there are many people who get really ridiculous tattoos. I don't know why, fun, or a statement. But really? They're just marking they're body because it's something different to do. That's not my motivation. Not at all.
Anyway, this is the choice I've made. I do not think it is sin. I think the tattoos would have to be severely botched for me to not feel honored to carry them. Besides, they're better than the scars I already carry. ;-)

Wanting to be Married Too Much

2009-11-07T20:21:00.000-08:00

I’ve heard it I’m sure you’ve heard it. I’m sure you’ve heard it from peers (other single women especially) a lot. “Be careful that you don’t want marriage so much that it becomes an idol.” In fact, I’ve heard it so much I find it very tempting to never mention that I want a relationship, that I want to be married. If I talk about wanting a job or improving my career, education, missions (no matter my true motivations), the latest tv show, shoes, anything but relationships. Anything but marriage. And, it’s not if you talk about it a lot either. I’ve found the admonition often comes with my very first mention of relationships or marriage within a group. They couldn’t warn me faster if I said that I liked watching porn from time to time.

I read this blog in Boundless the other day and I really think she has a point. I also read the comments and I wanted to point out comment #13. I wish I could give her a hug! She is obviously my sister. There was another comment which I can’t find now, but it said something along the lines of “maybe people tell other people not to want marriage too much because what they really mean is “you’re obviously desperate to get married and it’s tacky and a turn off and you might have more success if you backed off” but that people are too nice to really say that. I want to consider if what she said is true, and what else it might imply (on a side note, my father always says that your should write things that get a response, well, they certainly have gotten one from me).

First, is it really kinder or more discreet to say that rather than “you seem desperate.” Because most people will not only not hear what they “should” be hearing, but hear something else entirely. So then, through an attempt at subtle manipulation and non-confrontation you disseminate falsehood while not correcting anyone.
Second, what else might people be saying when they say “be careful not to make marriage an idol” or “be careful that you don’t want marriage too much?” I can think of a few:

Don’t talk about this, guys are around and you’ll scare them off with talk of commitment. (because obviously all guys, Christian and non-Christian, are commitment-phobes and don’t want to be married and thus must believe that we don’t either lest the very mention inspires them to feel pressured and get scared and allow their true cowardly immature character show. Why would we want those guys anyway?)
I think marriage should just happen and you’re ruining my fairytale idea. (this comes from listening to the world, and reading/watching one-too-many romances)
I think God is kind of cruel and won’t give us something until we don’t care if we have it. If you say you want it you’re jinxing yourself. (and this is just an erroneous idea about God)
I’m afraid of marriage and commitment myself and you’re making me uncomfortable. (that’s your issue, not mine)
I feel the desire to get married but I don’t want it and you’re reminding me that I’m pulling a Jonah in this regard and it’s making me uncomfortable. (also your issue, not mine)
I’ve grown bitter/hopeless/resigned to my condition of singleness and I don’t want that wound reopened by someone else’s determination and hope. (and again, your issue, not mine)
We’re Christians, so since religion is off the list of taboo things to talk about we’ve replaced it with romance. It’s now not polite to talk about romance or politics. (if this is just about what’s taboo than I really really don’t care)

How did I do? Did I cover all the other bases not yet mentioned?

Or, maybe people mean exactly what they say and they think that the desire for marriage is, quite apparently, a bad thing, so easily corrupted that you have to nip it in the bud at its genius.
I think this is wrong and a major reason why there are so few marriages now and a contributor to so much immorality within the church and so little preparation when people actually do get married. I think it discourages marriage in the same way that discouraging people to think about money at all would keep them from knowing how to manage money. I think it encourages immorality in the same way that starving children binge themselves on food when they get an opportunity to eat, even if it means stealing. I think it leads to little preparation because there is little discussion and even less about what happens and how you should truly handle what happens *after* you get married.

You see, I think that the desire for marriage is not often an idol. I think lots of things can be an idol, the but the desire for Godly marriage and a godly relationship, I don’t think that’s often an idol. Mostly because it’s not a very self-promoting god. Let’s see, marriage, you have to submit to your husband, you no longer belong to yourself, your entire life’s point is to think of his good and help your husband, kids will give you lots of embarrassment and no time to yourself, you have to put up with someone else’s faults and failures and short comings for the rest of your life. Oooooh, yeah, sounds like the best idol ever!

I think what people fall in love with, and idolize, is a romance novel. Basically, a fantasy. And before you go accusing someone of idolizing a fantasy you’d best make sure it’s a fantasy that they’re thinking of. That means actually engaging them in a conversation about what they want and expect out of marriage. It means asking secondary questions *before* you pass judgment.
In light of all this I’ve come up with some easy detections of “making marriage an idol.” For those of you who are worried that you’re making marriage an idol (and I’m pretty sure that any Christian woman who would like to get married, who has that desire even a little, may wonder).

Here goes:
First, do you have standards? Do your standards go beyond “he goes to church and he breathes?” If so, good.

Second, do the words “till death do you part” make you feel a bit sick to your stomach with fear? If so, you definitely don’t have to worry about the desire for marriage being an idol.

Third, do you regularly lay in your bed at night crying in desire for a husband, or for marriage? Do you look at wedding magazines and pine? Do you read home décor magazines and wish? Do you coo and cry over every cute baby, wishing you had one? Do you arrange chick flick nights where you eat fattening food and watch a visual romance fantasy unfold before your eyes and wish that if only that could happen to you? No? No to most of them? Eh, than I wouldn’t worry.

Fourth, (and I would say this is the clearest indicator). If an angel met you and said you were going to die in 30 seconds, that you would never have a husband, that you would never have children, that you would never grow old or leave a legacy, but that you were about to be in the presences of God, what would you do? Would you call a loved one and leave a quick message of love and hope? Would you stand in stunned shock and horror? Would you cry out, saying something like “but I’m still a virgin! I can’t die a virgin!” or “But what about a husband and babiiiiiiieeees?!” Would you go contentedly into that good night or would you fight it, or wish to fight it, feeling that you hadn’t yet done what would make eternity worthwhile? If you answered ‘yes’ to anything but the first option, this might be time to reassess. If the answer was no to all but the first option than you have nothing to worry about. You see, and idol is something you place over God, it’s something you want more than God. If you would happily forfeit husband and children for a chance to be with God in eternity I don’t think that there’s any need to worry about marriage being an idol. If you still desire marriage than take it as a natural craving, like hunger, that God has given you. I do.

And let me tell you, I see marriage and desiring God very much like this analogy; When I was in Korea I missed my family. I wanted to go home. I would lay in bed sometimes just aching to feel the true embrace of someone I knew loved me. I was a stranger in a strange land. And I had a job to do. And I got hungry. A lot. There were times I would sit at my desk and dream of food. Sometimes it wasn’t time for me to eat but I was really hungry. Would it have helped for me to deny my hunger? No. Would it have helped to ignore opportunities to sate my hunger when they came? Would it have been good for me to chew gum? No, that just would have made me more hungry in the long run, and gassy. What was better to accept that I was hungry, even say that I was hungry, and when I had the opportunity, eat. Now, was I a glutton? No. But I loved the food. I desired the food. Moreover, did I want the food more than I wanted to go home? If I had been given the opportunity to up and see my family, or them to see me, but I’d have to miss food, would I have taken it? Heck yeah! I would have gone without food for days just for that feeling of home. I figure that the desire for marriage is a lot like that desire for food. I’m here, a stranger in a strange land, and I have a job to do, and I can’t go home until it’s done. In the mean time I have this desire, and it’s not going to go away, and I can try and sate it with fake things but that won’t help and it won’t last, and I can try to deny it but that will only cause problems. I shouldn’t feel guilty about it, but what I should do is acknowledge it and take the opportunity if it grants itself. And I should always understand that this is not what I want most. I assure you, sisters, it is Heaven that I lay in bed and cry for, not a husband. It is intimacy with my God that will fill all my desires, not a husband. It’s not an idol. But do I want a husband? Do I want to eat? You bet. And I bet you do, too.

V – a good hand tipped too soon-possible spoilers

2009-11-07T17:40:00.001-08:00

So, I just watched the first episode of V, courtesy of Hulu. It was definitely exciting, I'll give it that. And, the cast seems solid. What bothers me is that the first episode has…everything. Absolutely everything. What other shows take seasons (or at least a season) this show has revealed on its first episode. The show itself is reminiscent of Earth Final Conflict, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, and any number of other hidden agenda conspiracy movies. The first episode plants the show firmly in conservative territory. The badguys give universal health care and have a single world government, and they're very pretty. They also seem to have a touch of that capitalistic drive in them. So, it's big brother meets big corporation meets socialism. Scary. Then our good guys are a woman who searches for terrorists (fbi?), a priest, a conspiracy guy, and a not-so-bad alien. See, conservative. Did I mention that the not-so-bad alien thinks that family is very important? This show doesn't lack violence either, and the adults are portrayed as the intelligent ones.

Being a conservative myself, I'd be all for this if I didn't think that the story is planning to do a big ol' switch on us. To reveal this much this early in the story either nothing is as it seems or this show isn't going to last very long. The Creative Writing major in me doesn't trust this story. I feel like a poker player who just got a look at the other guy's cards. Why not wait to reveal the good aliens? Why show us in the first episode that the human form the aliens don isn't their natural one? Why basically prove their out for blood in the first episode? Why introduce the love interest for the boy in the first episode? All these things could have easily waited until later episodes without detracting much from the action. Even something as simple as not having the actual aliens break in on the secret meeting, but only their technology, would leave room for question (and curiosity that would bring the viewers back next week).

So, I'm going to predict what's going to happen, and we can see how right I am. Well, the son of the cop/FBI agent/devorce is going to continue to support the Vs, despite evidence that tells him to stay away. He's going to create a bond with the alien girl and either be her dupe or try to save her when he realizes her people are evil SOBs. The Priest is going to find out that some of his superiors are aliens and he'll question his faith. If he doesn't leave his faith, there's a good chance he'll leave the cloth. If nothing, he'll become a really bad priest because he's poised for romantic tension with the FBI lady. Said lady is going to be torn between the loyalty her son has for the aliens, a desire to save him, a desire to destroy the aliens, and a desire for the priest. The alien who is not a bad guy will help people get inside information. He will be the one who reveals some information about the aliens, though considering what they've already shown us of the mother ship I don't see his necessity as a disseminator of info. He'll try to leave his fiancé and she will either a. follow him b. follow him and die c. be heart-broken. The alien leader dude is either and the leader lady (Anna) are like Da'an and Zo'or in Earth Final Conflict. They're both bad guys, though one may be less evil than the other. Chunky friend of the boy will be used to get him to do stupid things, and may eventually rat him out, or die. Alien girl is either as evil as her leader or as heart-led as her human boyfriend. She can go either way, though I suspect she may be used as proof that even evil aliens can turn good with the right motivation. Conspiracy guy will also be a disseminator of information, as well as a device to bring the characters together. He will probably die eventually since we don't really know anything about him at all except that he sucks at being secret. Hmmm, themes? Terrorism (obviously), religion, genetic manipulation, control, the nature of evil…and possibly slavery. I'd bet money that the fixes they do at their health centers are more than just fixes.

That being said, I'll watch the previews and read the reviews for the next couple of weeks, and if it turns out that the writers have a better imagination than me than I'll go back to watching.

Thoughts on Heaven and Hell

2009-11-02T12:33:00.000-08:00

Heaven. Hell. How many people actually believe they exist? Even of those who say they do I’m finding there are many who really don’t. Or rather, they don’t think on it at all. Their visions of heaven and hell have been as much shaped by multi-media as anyone else’s.

Then, of course, there are the reformer’s ideas. Heaven becomes this boring celestial city where we sit around singing out-of-tune hymns and hell is all fire and brimstone.

I read both Mere Christianity and The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis and his ideas on heaven and hell spurred me to realize what my ideas where. Then, a few months later, I went through this panic about whether or not I really was saved. If you check further back in the blog you can read all the wonderings and fearmongerings I was doing then. And, it’s good to work out your faith from time to time. But *why* was I so upset? *Why* is being a Christian so necessary? I came to one conclusion and that conclusion has changed the way I see the world. It’s so important because I am desperate to get to Heaven, and desperate to avoid Hell.

Well, what is Heaven, what is Hell, that they should matter? I could give you a bunch of verses that may or may not make sense, refer you to articles I’ve read, and I may do that, but I’d rather just tell you about what I believe.

You may have heard the old song “when I get to heaven, gonna talk with Jesus, when I get to heaven, gonna see his face…” And we dismiss the words.

Imagine this: you die. You die and the world goes dark around you and you blink and there you are, standing before the throne of God. Light brighter than the sun on the hottest day, brighter than the sun without ozone, brighter than any star, blasts you, staggers you back, but you don’t die. You’re already dead, remember. As you squint through the light you see a man before you. He is both so big that his throne cannot contain him and just the right size to meet with you. What shines from his face is Glory, Power, Love, Justice, Mercy, and Wrath. Again you’re staggered, and this time you drop to a knee as you realize who you’re before. And, as soon as that realization hits you memory does as well. You’re no God, you’ve failed, you don’t deserve to be here. Mourning and panic and fear and awe sieze you. You drop to your face in the heavenly dirt, tears stream from your eyes. “My God, forgive me,” you beg, even as you acknowledge that you don’t deserve it.

Then a hand is on your shoulder, and you choke on even more tears, because of the warmth and generous love that spreads through you, the forgiveness. “Arise my beloved,” says a voice that is both quite and permeating in a way that no bullet could be, “you have served me well.” You look up and the One on the throne, though He is still somehow upon it, is also before you, helping you your feet, brushing off the dirt. And there is such compassion, such pride, such love in his eyes that again you are overwhelmed. At once you are entirely known and every ache and every hole in who are is healed and sealed up. The joy and intimacy you sought through sex is fulfilled, the confidence you sought through jobs is granted, the humility you sought through service is attained. You stand there, struck dumb for ages by the amazing thing that has been done for you. You who knows you don’t deserve it. You’re more real and more whole than you ever were when alive. It feels like you just woke up from a lingering dream. God himself is pleased by you and wraps you in a welcoming hug. You’re shocked that God would touch you, because all your life, though you prayed and sang and read and did your very best to believe without proof and serve without return, God was still something you didn’t quite comprehend. But now you see Him clearly, see yourself clearly. You are loved, you will never be turned away, you are known, and in that you are made the best possible you. You’re forgiven, you’re fixed. Nothing could surpass what you’re experiencing. Each new moment in the presence of your God reveals new insights. For the first time in your life you’re free, content, happy, fully informed of the state of yourself.

And then it gets better, because your eyes turn to take in this realer than real heavenly place and you see a country all around you. A city without walls. Pastures and woods stretch into the distance. Trees in fruit and trees in bloom. Soft grass and inviting riverbanks. Glorious roads leading into a distance. People, old friends who you’d mourned, enemies and now you’re excited to see them free as well, and a goodness in them you could never recognize in your Earthly life. There are people there who you never knew, and some you recognize though you’ve never met. All complex and complete. Angels and men walking and talking together. More company than you’ll ever need but how wondrous to share such a thing with them. Not only are there plants and people, but animals too, and water, and food. Such food as you’ve never had. Food untainted by toxins, or death. Sweet and rich. Food that fills you. And you find that you’re not hungry nor thirsty nor tired. Every pang of sadness is healed, every remorse set aside for the joy of where you are and in whose light you stand. This is a place that has a place for you. You belong here. You were made for here. This is where the forgiven stand. This is the home of the renewed, and it is forever.

Now, in contrast, imagine Hell.

You die, you feel your soul slip from this world like a hand passing through the surface of water. For a moment nothing and then you are aware. Of nothing. At first all you feel is pain, pain that cannot be stopped our placed, it bounces from limb to limb like a child playing hopscotch. Your skin feels like it’s burning, your bones like their breaking. You try to scream, but no noise comes. Try to thrash but feel no movement. You hear nothing. Finally you open your eyes and you see nothing. It takes a while, because you’re in denial, you think you’ll wake up, you think the real world will come back to you, before you realize where you are. You didn’t really believe in this place. It’s so hard to conceptualize. You’re in Hell. Your limbs ache like one giant amputee. You feel them while they seem to no exist. You feel like a vapor. That sense of incompletness, of being not quite whole, that lingered in life, is now consuming, maddening. You never even got a chance to see what you’re missing, but somehow you know, because now that you’re in so much agony you can easily imagine what the opposite it.

But this place has no escape hatch. It is nowhere and it goes on without end. You don’t know if anyone else is here. For all you know you’re the only one. You hope you aren’t, but you can’t be sure. No senses to tell you otherwise, not even the smell of your own burning flesh to assure you this is real, and you can’t kick the feeling that you are less real than you were before, less valid by exponents. You can’t kick at all. And you can’t take comfort from knowing your enemies are here too. You agonize over the possibility that the people you hated most aren’t here. You wish for a fair fight, try to scream that God should come down here and face you, but you know you had your chance. Now, suddenly, and with sudden clarity, you can see all the times you had chances and turned them away, all the possibilities that would have lead to a different end but you ignored. You see with stunning clarity just how unworthy you were of the good things you received, and how much you took for granted. You see with true clarity the reality of the universe, and how small you are, how messed up, how dirty, how alone. This is your fault. You’re guilty here. The weight of your pride and degradation are yours to bear. Here it is both a sensory deprivation tank and a torture chamber. None mocks you but your own failings. None but your own heart accuses you. The world has lifted away and you have fallen into the void. And with a growing sense of horror and mourning, so overwhelming in its intensity you’d cry if you could, you understand. This is Hell, and it’s forever.

When I think of Heaven and Hell these are the concepts that trail through my mind. No clouds in heaven, no boring hymns (though I’m sure there will be singing. I imagine it’ll be a bit like Sojourn, a good mix of everything), no babies with wings and harps. Neither do I think it’ll be a throng of enraptured looking people standing around a giant impersonal throne whispering words like “God” and “Savior” and “Master” (though I imagine that there will be a good bit of that as well). I think there will be singing, and eating, swimming, laughing, eye rolling, joking, painting, stone working, writing, relaxing, running and jumping, talking, hugging, reminiscing, thinking, quiet being, and shouting. I think there will be learning, and some forgetting, I think there will be making, and building, and planning, and doing. Heaven will not be static. Nor will it be impure. There won’t be sex (sex, like sleeping, are not bad at all, but will be fulfilled in different ways once we reach that Heavenly realm), or sleeping. There won’t be resentment or fights or pride or “issues” or ego or disappointment or rage. There won’t be malicious talk or depression. There won’t be failure or lying, or injury. There won’t be broken trust or broken hearts.

Hell, on the other hand, won’t be a big party with all your biggest partier friends. It won’t be the place where all the rebels go to have a good time without anyone telling them what to do. It won’t be a gathering of all the strong ones while the weak ones go to a nice quite white place. It won’t be sexy (I imagine more it’ll be castrating and filled with a sense of incontinence). It won’t be comfy. You see, all pleasure comes from God, and Hell is supposed to be, at its most basic, the absence of God. So, you couldn’t even have your favorite sins if God wasn’t in the world making pleasantness possible. Since God makes things, and holds all things together I think it’s reasonable to assume that Hell will be without true place or true form. That means there won’t even be devils or demons wandering around to yell at you and poke you with nasty pitch forks. Hell is going to be one nasty place. A to fear and a place to avoid at all costs. And, please understand me that when I say this I mean only truth and no malice: lots of very good people are going to find themselves in Hell. Being good won’t save you. And not believing in it won’t stop you from going.

Why wouldn’t you want to think on this? Why wouldn’t you want to hope for the one and dread the other? Our faith is not just for this life. Jesus didn’t die just to offer us a new way to live for the short time we walk this globe. To live is Christ, yes, but we forget the other part; to die is gain. As Christians shouldn’t we anxiously look forward to the day when we depart from our mortal bodies? Shouldn’t we be excited about what awaits us? I know, you can’t prove Heaven and our modern minds make poor doubting Thomas look very trusting. We don’t want to believe in something in which we don’t have proof. I would suggest that if Heaven seems distasteful to you, or Hell too harsh than perhaps you should reexamine how you think of God.

Dating and men: are there good ones?

2009-10-30T11:18:00.000-07:00

So, apparently the statistics between interactions between men and women in the Church and that in the rest of the world isn't that different. Christian men seem as much, if not more, prone to pornographic addictions. Christian women also often think that to be godly you have to be a companion to men, but with your being their companion and porn providing the sex they can often put off the need for true intimacy indefinitely. At the same time women are often isolated from men in regular situations.

This one I feel with particular intensity. Being that I'm not that social (and this isn't like saying "being that I'm diabetic." I'm not giving opportunity to tell me "you just need to hang out with people more). No, I don't. Do you know what that would do to me? I'd be exhausted and grumpy and tearful. There are many more extroverts in the world, the church is practically made for extroverts. But, here's the thing, I think marriage is even more valuable to introverts (like me). Because single person intimacy is both more useful and more desired for us. Extroverts can gain that feeling of being connected by going out in groups. I can't. I never have, and I probably never will. But one on one, that's where I feel connection. Unfortunately the church expressly frowns on that.

So, how am I, a woman and an introvert, who is content with not going out very often, who doesn't even know what is expected of me by men, who doesn't even know if the men I meet have character, supposed to get to know open Christian men?

This isn't a problem I've had with men who aren't 'religious'. Instead they are open about interest, they don't shun physical attraction, nor interest. They're not afraid to ask you out, to get to know you, to have fun, to flirt. I've begun to wonder if the church has become so uptight, or so feminine, that real masculinity is almost impossible to find. I know that American men are notoriously passive in interest and Christian American men about ten times more so. There is no immediate show of interest. They act practically asexual. And you know what? That is SO FREAKING ANNOYING! I AM A SEXUAL BEING AND I WANT TO BE RESPONDED TO AS A PERSON AND A SEXUAL BEING. GUH!!!

Am I asking for sex? No. But a little flirting won't kill you.

I hate that any real interest in men or marriage is considered pushing too much, and unseemly, even a turn off. Like desire is bad. I think we're catering to the relation-phobes. And, why should we.

But, back to what I was saying, I have never had a lack of interest from men who weren't religious. I find friendships with them easy, online and in real life. I enjoy their company, laugh, flirt. But there's this huge gap in my life that they don't get, and often the direction of their hearts is so drastically different from mine. Yeah, they have different interests, different things that they notice, but they don't seem like these bizarre unrelatable creatures (except in our religious differences).

So, why is it so different within the Church?

Why can't I seem to connect to with christian guys? And, how can I be open about my desire without turning all men away, or being obnoxious?

I can see people crying in outrage about how unseemly I'm being already.

Look, why can I interest men who don't know the Lord, who are so different from me? I hit it off with them. Why is it that I can't hit it off with Christian guys? Am I so different around them, or are they so different? I know that when I'm in groups around other Christian women I can feel the weight of their judgment and expectations on the back of my neck whenever I'm around them. Does that effect how I respond? Do we Christian women hinder how men respond?
Do regular Christian men have no problem hitting it off with unsaved women? What about those women makes them easy to interact with? I know that they have little problem showing interest, but I also know that even at the best church I've ever attended I have been clearly told not to show interest until after I know a guy, and that too much intention is unholy, seeking after something other than god and not the trait of a good woman. I've heard both of these from other single women.

Unchristian women show interest. They also dress nicely. I've tried to dress nicely. I also worry that nice clothes will make me unapproachable, because it has before.

Are we Christians just so hesatant and picky that relationships are next to impossible? What if I just want to go on a date? How does that even happen?

I find myself wondering if I need to look to older men, or men who are not American, in order to get a date.

I am happy to encourage men to be godly, but I really want a date. I don't care if it doesn't work out, just the chance to interact in a way that, not overtly sexual, that acknowledges us as entire human beings, not just spirits or children.

How am I supposed to get married if I don't hang out with godly men who are willing to see me as a marriable woman?

On Marriage and in regards to my peers in the Church

2009-10-29T05:50:00.000-07:00

Fine, I debated whether or not I would write about this. Well, I am.
Really, do you think it's that easy? Do you think that getting married will "just happen"? Yeah, and prince charming really exists and he'll come on his white steed to take you home to his castle. Marriage is something that, if it's going to happen, needs to be pursued proactively. In fact, I think it's an even worse idea to say "well, what I really need to do is become content with my singleness." Complacency and contentment are not the same thing and while I admit that we need to bloom where we're planted, sometimes those uncomfortable places are there to encourage us to pick up our roots and move. Especially in the case of guys, proactiveness is a must, but for women as well. For all those women who have given into the idea, as I long had, that marriage is a prison to be avoided until your sentence has ultimately come in. Or, that one must pretend to not want marriage, or to even find a way to not want marriage, if you're to be truly holy.
Before I go further, let me say that marriage is not the be-all-end-all of existence. I know this, hopefully you know this. Having a spouse won't fill the hole inside you simply because that hole is never ending. They can pour into you and pour into you but you'll never be completely complete. They can be a companion though, and a compliment. A very very neccessary compliment.
But, before we get married we have to understand why we should and what it is, what we're getting ourselves into, and what it's not. And, I think that once we strip away the fears, and the insecurities, and the falacies it'll turn out that most people desperately desire marriage, and that to find a spouse is a *good* thing.
So, marriage. In the Church romance and romantic love and sex, they all necessitate marriage. You want the good stuff, get married. Reproduction also necessitates marriage. You want mini-me's, get married. In addition I'd say that the Bible greatly encourages Christians to have kids. It can be one of the best kinds of conversion, to raise a kid in the faith from the beginning. Is it a guarantee that your child will follow that path as an adult? No, but it's a better bet than trying to convert people off the streets. And, as much as "spiritual children" is nice, it's not not not the same as real ones, and we can't discount the Bible encouraging people to have real children as well as mentoring and having "spiritual children."
Ok, so, for the purposes of reproduction, sex, and romantic love there needs to be marriage. But, that's not all marriage is, or even the majority really. Marriage isn't always (though usually it is) a means to these things (though they're entirely excluded without it).I think this is where a lot of people get their arguments against getting married. "You can't be sure" they say "of getting anything if you get married." What they mean is "I'm terrified that if I get married it'll be horrible and I'll be stuck." Boy, can I relate.
Here's the deal, folks. Marriage is freaking hard. And it ought to be. Nothing great comes without great cost. When you decide to get married you're not signing on for a life of leisure. You promise "in sickness" and "for poorer," not exactly fun thoughts, but neccessary ones. Here are some things you will encounter while married:

Your spouse will change
It will turn out that you married a virtual stranger
You will change
At times, you won't love your spouse at all
Your spouse will piss you off
You will piss your spouse off
Your spouse will hurt you, and it will hurt more because you chose them and they chose you and now it feels like you're getting unchosen
You will hurt your spouse, and the guilt will be all the more intense because you really really shouldn't have said it.
You will have the unpleasant realization that you have to watch your words a lot more around your spouse because they have so much more impact
You won't want sex when your spouse does
You will want sex and your spouse won't
Their little habits will drive you insane
Their big tendencies (that you love so much before) will drive you insane
Your spouse will make really bad choices sometimes
You will have to deal with you spouse's personal baggage
Your spouse will have to deal with your personal baggage, no matter how much you try to hide it.
At times they will seem to be going backwards spiritually
Your parents will die and your friends will leave
Your spouse will let you down
You will let your spouse down
You will be a bad parent sometimes maybe a lot of the time
They will be a bad parent sometimes maybe a lot of the time
You will be tempted to be bitter
The grass will look greener on the other side
The kids will take away the time you have with your spouse
You will grow apart from your spouse when the kids take up all your time
You will doubt whether you should have gotten into this mess to begin with

So, when all these things happen, don't worry. It's normal. You deal with it and you move on. None of these are reasons for despair or divorce.
In addition to those things that will surely happen, there are other, more difficult things that might. Here are some things you may encounter while you're married:

Women, your man might work too much, leaving you feeling lonely and unloved
Men, your woman might not understand your desire to provide and will become distant from you instead of appreciating your effort
Your spouse may be in a fire and be horrible disfigured and in pain all the time
Your spouse may turn out to have a mental illness that makes them unstable or unreliable
Your spouse may experience trauma, war, or attack and change.
Men, your wife may be raped, or have had sexual trauma as a girl and often have difficulty with physical intimacy
Women, your husband may have been to battle and have violent flashbacks
Women, your husband may attack you
Men, your wife may reject you
Counseling may not help
Your spouse may develop a debilitating medical condition
Your spouse may be in a car accident and be paralyzed, they may never be able to pee on their own again
A horrible tragedy may strike your spouse and it might break them
Your spouse may withdraw or turn way from you or blame you in an unchangable situation
You may depend too much on your spouse to make you feel complete and you may do the same, only to experience an increased sense of emptiness, resentment, and failure.
Men, your wife may be rebellious
Women, your husband may be unjust, unwise, and undeserving of the respect his position demands
Your spouse may cheat on you
You may be stupid enough to cheat on your spouse
You may experience pain, anger, and fear deeper than you ever thought possible
You or your spouse may (probably will at some point) loose a job and you will find yourself in financial crisis
You may be in huge amounts of debt
One or both of you may be pretty freaking bad at sex
Your Children may have a mental, personality, or physical disorder
Women, your husbands may be afraid to parent
Men, your wives may make the kids their only priority
Your children may not serve the Lord
You may screw up your kid
Your spouse may get depressed or even want to die
It may turn out that your spouse is a much worse person than they originally seemed
It may turn out that you got married for all the wrong reasons

Great. You know what that means? That means that you have experienced things that people have experience with one another for thousands of years. And, no, this isn't a chance to say "well, they didn't get to get out of it." You shouldn't try to get out of it. God sanctifies some through singleness. Most others should be lucky enough to be sanctified through marriage. If anything, take comfort in the fact that you're experiencing an intimacy that can only be surpassed by the relationship to Christ, and that that annoying person you walked the alter with is also being sanctified through this. Marriage is going to bring out the worst in you, but that's in order to make the best of you. Gold is refined by fire, remember?
I would even go so far as to say that, should virtually all this be dropped on you during the course of your marriage, that it would still be worth it. Don't despair, God isn't some sadistic bastard sitting up in heaven just waiting to make you misserable through marriage. He loves you. Heck, in Jeremiah he promised the captives that he had plans for them, plans to prosper them, to give them hope. Don't you think he'd do the same for you in your marriage?
Marriage is real and it's earthy and it's *hard* but I think that, given what it can give you, it's more than worth it. What can it give you?

Love
security
intimacy only surpassed by that you have with God
sex
a heartfelt connection to another person
a companion
a best friend
a partner in crime
a partner in faith
someone whose got your back
a special brand of sanctification
children
joy
the privilege of knowing someone intimately
the privilege of being the most instrumental person in someone else's life

It's worth it people. God doesn't call us to be afraid, or to hedge our bets. We're supposed to be living out there. Living courageously. And what's more courageous or out there than this? Take courage! Gird your loins. Take initiative. Pursue the craggy mountain. Get married.
I'm ready.
Are you?

p.s. Disclaimer: I do understand that in situations of consistent abuse of cheating it is a person's right to divorce. I'm in no way suggesting that a woman (or man) whose well-being or life, or those of their children, is in jeopardy should stay in such a marriage. While I believe that most marriages shouldn't end, I understand that there are those that should. I also believe that these are not reasons for those who are unmarried to despair or to grow bitter toward marriage.

Taking a moment to be shallow

2009-10-28T13:25:00.000-07:00

So, based of a thread I read recently, I have compiled a list of names and pictures of television and movie stares that I think are The most attractive. This means that these pictures initiate the most purely physical/positive responses from me. On that note, I will say that I have particular difficulty separating the person from the character, so in all likelihood they also played a character I liked at one point. That being said, I see these ones and desire to put my mouth on (it makes no sense to me either).

David Craig
Sendhil Ramamurthy
Oded Fehr
Russell Crowe
David Tennant
Christopher Eccleston
Gerard Butler
Greg Gunberg
Hugh Jackman
Bruce Willis
Colin Farrell
Vin Diesel
Christian Bale
Clive Owen
Zachary Quinto
Eric Bana
David Boreanaz

Cutie patootie nominations: Lee Pace and Jared Padalecki

Runner ups:
Tom Welling
Bryan Greenberg
Zachary Levi Pugh
Ryan Reynolds

I'll add pictures later.

Going Organic

2009-10-28T10:32:00.000-07:00

I can't recall if I've talked about this before, but I can't emphasize enough how much of a good idea going organic is.
I've switched to mainly organic dairy and meats, and a few other things that I eat often (like bread and apples), about three months ago. Since then I've stopped getting acne almost entirely, had many less stomach aches, have less leg hair, and my periods are lighter.
Hmmm, just from that I'd say that organic is good.

Now, what I'm doing is trying to eat organic junk food too. Basically the thought is this, if I'm going to eat food that's bad for me I might as well eat the real food instead of bad for me chemicals in the shape of bad for me food. I've found that a pack of Newman's Own Peppermint cups does the trick.
Much better than eating half a bag of bite sized Pepperming Patties.

I'm actually hoping to keep this up, or go nearly totally organic once I get a job again. I mean, how much better and longer could we live if we weren't packing ourselves with extraneous hormones and pesticides and second hand steroids and antibiotics and artificial flavors and colors.

Oh, not to mention all the things in our soaps and shampoos and conditioners. I've also switched to Organic soap, shampoo, conditioner, and clothing detergent. I wonder if that has an effect.

Having read what was in my make up I pretty much stopped using that as well. Though I'm sad about that because I really liked looking cute, but I also like the idea of being able to reproduce. And, I don't have the money to buy organic mineral make up right now. Not after what I spent on new bad-for-me make up just a month before I decided to go organic-ish. I tend to have bad timing like that. Buy a new pair of pants right before I loose a bunch of weight, realize I'm out of make up right before I decide that make up is bad for me. Bleh.

It really is important to take care of your body. Besides, who needs to be half preserved after your dead? It's not like you're going to be using the body.

John 2/3

2009-10-26T11:33:00.001-07:00

So, I left of at John 3:8

Nic says, and I'm assuming he's speaking without guile or cynicism considering how Jesus responds, "how can these things be?"

Jesus is like "you're a smart guy, a religious professor, but you still don't get it? This is reality, We talk about what we know and what we've seen, but you don't think it's true" Is Jesus speaking in the royal we here? It seems so, because this is a sort of (gentle?) accusation against the religious teachers of the day. He says that he told Nic about earthly things and he wasn't getting it, how would he understand heavenly things. So, salvation is an earthly occurrence, as real and natural to God as birth is to us.

He says that no one has gone up into Heaven except the guy who came down from heaven, himself, the Son of Man. I'm not entirely sure about this part, except that I know that all of John is Jesus as God, and surely it is a heavenly trait to be able to dwell in and leave heaven at will. Then, on the tails of claiming to be God he refers to Moses and gives prophesy of his crucifixion.

Maybe, he says that he knows that Nic won't get it, but then it's like, "don't you get it, I'm God, I know about Heaven because I've been there, and like was prophesied, I'm going to die. (and then we go into those oh-so-famous verses) "because God so loved the world." This is directly connected to statements about Jesus imminent death, and to heavenly things that Nic won't understand. God gave his only Son. CS Lewis talks about it like Jesus steaming forth from the father, always a product of him always will be, a constant state of coming forth while being bound with. So he was the first born of all creation by his essence of coming forth from the father, but there was never a time when he was disconnected nor a time when he did not come forth from the father, so he is first Born and also God, From the father and equal with the father. It's whoever believes in the Son will not perish but have everlasting life. One thing you see throughout the Bible is that when people realized that Jesus really was who he said he was, they were usually on bended knee before him. Like that scene in the last episode with the 9^th doctor on Doctor Who, where Rose comes out of the TARDIS carrying the entirety of the time vortex inside herself and she says that she sees all that has been and all that will be and that she creates things and ends things and alters time and the Doctor, seeing her and knowing what she is, drops to his knees before her. There's a lot of "you really are the Son of God." And then people follow him. So, then, believing isn't simply acknowledgement, believing is "getting it," is realizing that this is a big deal, this is something to dedicate your life to. It's also not about just believing in 'God' but in Christ. The Jews believe in God, but they don't know Christ.

Then he says that God didn't send him here to condemn the world, but to save it, through him. This was the manner of the salvation God was offering to everyone. He then says that whoever believes is not condemned, but whoever doesn't is already condemned. So, there's the duality of believing is a changing of mind, saves you, but you're also damned beforehand when you don't believe. You were already condemned, but you can be un-condemned through belief in Jesus Christ. Then he says "and this is the judgment." Maybe "and this is the truth that is declared after all the argument are set forth," "the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their deeds were evil." He already knew that most people would reject him, because they preferred their dark hidey holes, where things weren't exposed, because next he says "for everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come into the light, lest his deeds should be exposed." I know that when I read this I think 'oh, but people do evil in the light all the time now.' And they didn't before? They sacrificed their children to idols, they reveled, they fed people to lions, they soothsaid. All in the light of day, all government sanctioned. But this is what they do, they defend it, they get defensive about it, they don't want it examined or looked at. I think that is a kind of hiding in itself. I think this hiding becomes particularly clear when the gospel is brought into account. Then people want to leave, or they become almost violent in their defense. See, the world is dark, so they do their deeds in darkness, but the gospel exposes them and they don't like that. They prefer to do their deeds in darkness at light of day, rather than be exposed. "but whoever does what is true comes into the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his deeds have been carried out in God." Those who serve are not shy about the light. They want others to know, not of his or her own deeds but of God who made them happen. How significant that we want to hide our own evil in darkness but we wish for light on deeds that are not ours alone when we do what is true.

Also, I assume someone else was there since it got written about. Either that or Nic converted and later told an apostle. Though, I assume that the timing of Nic's visit would probably put Jesus with his apostles.

A disection of John 3 as much as I am able

2009-10-21T14:30:00.000-07:00

My father says that Jeremiah is the most difficult book for him, or that's what he said last night, because it's a real book, he said, and the prayers were real. It's about God smiting people, and suffering and fear. Apparently Jeremiah got sawn in half or something.
So far...I don't know what book is the most difficult. Maybe Song of Solomon, because it goes so counter to what I know of love, and existence, and makes me to hope for things. Sometimes it feels like being hopeless is better. But it's not, is it?
John starts with Nic, who has apparently heard that Jesus is doing a lot. I'm guessing he was speaking for God more and doing more miracles than the average messiah claimer. Nic was a leader, and probably known for his learnedness and piety, not some peabody assistant, and Jesus not only caught his attention but impressed him enough that he believed that it was, in fact, God who sent him.
So, then the teacher calls Jesus, who's had no seminary training, teacher and says that God has to be working through him. Then Jesus says to him he needs to be born again to see God's kingdom. This also implies that Nic, though seeking, wasn't born again. I also want to point out here that once Jesus started his ministry he was proactive, and even as far back as the wedding his mother knew what he was capable of. He trashed the temple, he did all these miracles, and then he told Nic what he needed to do before he even asked.
Nic, who no doubt had seen Jesus do, or heard of him doing, some pretty wild things, was probably envisioning this guy pushing him back into the womb. He also wants to be born again. He understood that that was something good, something he wants. He asks "how's that going to work, since I'm old?"
So, Jesus tells him that baptism with water and the Spirit will be what sends him to heaven. So, does that mean that you have to be physically baptized to be saved? I'm sure the Church of Christ would say that, but there are plenty of other verses that don't include baptism in requirements for salvation. Could the kingdom of God mean something other than Heaven and citizenship in God's family? Like, could Nic only need to evolve his faith that next step? To accept that the savior had come rather than reject his claims? If he was predestined did God know that he would hear and accept? Did he even accept? Because it never says that later.
He says that Nic shouldn't be surprised about the born again thing because the wind blows where it will. Basically, "why are you trying to figure out how this works, somethings just happen that way and that's the way it's willed and you don't get it but that's the way it is. So, being spiritually born is....lost my train of thought....something that you can't get. You feel it's effect but beyond that you can't really get it.
Thus ends verse 8.

I finally put out my resume

2009-10-20T10:39:00.000-07:00

Yeah, and it only took me five months to do it. Geez, I feel like a shmuck. I just needed the proper motivation, and the confidence to put myself back out there, and that wasn't going to happen until it happened. Well, now it's happened and I'm having to fight not to freak out. Like, really freak out. I've gotten my fist handful of job offers. Right now they're not looking too hot. One was for 2.2-2.3 million won a month. That's better than my last job. My lowest possible pay would be 2.2 million won a month. I worked for 2.1 last year. I'm more experience and more educated this year. I'd prefer 2.4 though. I mean, I'm really going to do it. No lying around in my parents' house forever. I'm getting another job and I'm getting a life again. And, since there seems to be about as much possibility of finding a husband here as there is abroad (next to none, thank you), I might as well go abroad, where at least I have a life, and a purpose, and something to distract me from that yawning whole where I'm-a-wife should be.
So far only Korea has offered a job. I am considering shoving aside my work loyalty and finding a job, and then finding a better job. Though if I did find a better job I'm sure I'd be sufficiently guilty about it that it would hardly feel like a better job for months. Different people pay their penance in different currencies. Mine is quite obviously the currency of guilt. I think it's absolutely possible that, were I to hate a man and wish him dead, and then he died and I was accused of his death that I would plead guilty of the murder even if it wasn't my own hand which had done it. Or, I'd be sorely tempted to, except that then a true murderer would go free and that would be on my conscience too. It's difficult to say what I would do...
The advantage to such a thing is that it makes me a very loyal employee, and relatively easy to manipulate if you know how I feel. This is why I try not to say that I feel guilty about things, people like to use that kind of stuff against you. I've also found that they get upset when they try to use it and fail. I do have points I will not bend on, no matter that I feel so guilty that I can imagine Hell licking at my heels. People don't usually get that either.
All of this is brought about by my reminiscing about my last job. I certainly hope the new one is less stressful. I hope I am better able to cope with the stress. Something besides migraines would be nice. Indigestion, for example.
Well, I think that's all for now. I have to go figure out how to look brilliant in print.

One Book Review a comment and three Partials

2009-10-16T09:27:00.000-07:00

So, I finished Hunting Ground by Patricia Briggs. I give it a "Hey, that was a pretty good book!"

I particularly like...the characters. Really, I think her characters are more likable, believable, and forgivable than many other characters. I like that Mercy isn't an all tough as nails bady bad ass girl. I like that she can be feminine sometimes. Quite frankly I don't think most women are half as bad ass as characters like, say, Anita Blake, and while it's fun to pretend that you could be like her because then you'd be in control and you'd be safe in a world that routinely victimizes our sex, there's also a disconnection, because most of us really aren't like that. Some of us not even a little. So, I like Mercy. I like that she has a job. So often characters don't have jobs and I, due to a recent theory, think it kind of subtly influences the idea that if you're special and have an interesting life than you shouldn't have a job. It may also be a writing cop out. I will make the exception in this book, with Anne, who is a massively real character and who I adore. Sometimes being a home maker or a husband-helper isn't a bad thing. That can be career enough in itself.

I particularly like the Charles. I like all of Mrs. Briggs main male characters. They are flawed but one thing they're not is entirely selfish. I found myself reading the book and wishing I could meet the real life version of this man, or of Bran, or Angus. I never felt such a sentiment while reading any of Laurel. K. Hamilton's books. Ok, maybe I wanted to meet her Nathanial, but that was just because the poor guy needed a hug or something. Nor was I particularly interested in meeting Christine Feehan's characters. I mean, realy, who wants to meet an overly possessive, super powerful, domineering, stalker. Soul mate or no, I'll pass on that.

I am impressed with Charles' patience in the book, and his intense desire to protect the woman he loves, to do what is best for her. I am equally impressed by Briggs presentation of his failure. There's a sort of give-and-take between the characters that I don't normally see in books, and I found myself thinking 'this, this is a relationship'.

I think my favorite parts of the book were:
"He let her play as she would for a while before catching her hands.
"Hey, lady wolf," he said breathlessly, " we need to wake up your other half before we take this any farther.""
and
"So you can tell me exactly what an Omega is - something that my lads haven't quite managed to explain satisfactorily yet. I would like something more than 'you make us happy,' which is the best they have managed so far. My lovers tell me that, and that is good, no? My wolf pack - who are mostly men, and I do not swing that way - tel me such things, and it doesn't sound too good to me. 'you bring us joy' is even worse, so I stopped asking. I need to know more, yes?"
His pained look was so exaggerated she couldn't hep laughing."

In the mean time I have also finished rereading Blood Bound. Maybe some time this weekend I'll pull out Moon Called and replace it with the others I've finished. Blood Bound is a good book but since I know what happens in the next, and have an idea of what happens in the book it felt a bit like a prelude. So, due to my bias I won't comment other than to say Mercy is one freaking lucky coyote.

So far I am about 50 pages into The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson.

It feels like one of those things I had to read in my modern lit class. Well written and well researched, but that's where my compliments end. The story itself is not necessarily interesting, and the character has yet to make himself appealing or redeemable. It reminds me of that short story I read that themed: don't try to save anyone because you'll just make it all worse. I understand that my response could be in part to my world view, but really, he watches a man fight to get his life back after horrible burns and stay positive and he's offended and sarcastic and bitter. All I could think was ass hole. Really, an ex-porn star turned porn producer. A drug addict from a messed up child hood. A man who had no redeeming value whatsoever, and not because of his messed up childhood, simply because. Right no he has no empathy, no higher feelings than selfishness and self-pity, no self control, no interest. Something's got to happen or I won't be reading past page 100.
The real advantage to the book is that it's written in flawless 1st person so reading a few pages gets me in the mind set of first person before I start working on my own stuff.

In light of the disappointing nature of the previous book I've also started Reserved for the Cat by Mercedes Lackey. Apparently it's the fourth (fifth?) in a series, but at this point seems to easily stand alone. I'm on page 16. A cat and a brownie have been introduced and our main character just got fired from the ballet. So far it is neither good nor bad, nor interesting, nor boring. I picked up the book because Jody Lee did the cover art. I suppose this is the result.

I'm also about half way through Mastering your Metabolism by Julian Michaels. Apparently I have failed to master because I've gained nearly 16 pounds since I first started reading the book. Of course, it would help if I actually followed it's advice. :-p The book itself is good, thorough, informative, and not difficult to follow. My weight gain is due to moving to the US from Asia and then Europe, moving back in with my parents, and showing a lack of self-control and self-discipline. Though, since following the book's suggestion to go with Organic dairy and meat my cycles have decreased in intensity and I have less leg hair. Interesting.

A Quote for when the Heart Grows Faint

2009-10-16T09:19:00.000-07:00

" What are you to yourself? worthless? vile? empty?

What is Jesus to you? precious? lovely? all your salvation? all your desire?

What is sin to you? the most hateful thing in the world?

What is holiness to you? most lovely? most longed for?

What is the throne of grace to you? the most attractive spot?

What is the cross to you? the sweetest resting place in the universe?

What is God to you? your God? your Father? the spring of all your joys? the fountainhead of all your bliss? the center where your affections meet?

Is it so? Then you are a child of God!

Those low views of yourself ... that brokenness, that inward mourning, that secret confession, that longing for ... more spirituality, more grace, more devotedness, more love, does but prove the existence, reality, and growth of God's work within you.

Cheer up, precious soul!

That soul never perished, that felt itself to be vile, and Jesus to be precious!"
(Octavius Winslow, "Evening Thoughts")
(Found it on Boundless.org)

Sometimes it amazes me how smart people were hundreds of years ago. All we usually hear are the bad things, or, conversely, the idea of "the good old days," but it wasn't like that. There were good things and bad things, stupid people and brilliant people, greedy people and amazingly gracious and humble people.

I am particularly grateful for this wise person, who lived so long ago, because this quote has settled much of the turmoil that totally dominated my heart in the last couple of months.

Questionable Leadership?

2009-10-15T08:06:00.000-07:00

I figured I hadn't written here in a while so I would. I have an entire thought to lay out and I've, if nothing else, been trying to make this my "entire thought blog." Rather than the "whatever comes to mind" blog or the "whenever my life sucks" blog.

I attend a church here in the 'Ville, and it's a good church. A really really good church. I want to become a member. I want to support this church and it's ministry and it's mentality for as long as I am able.

I'm in a small group. I like them as much as you can like a group of 15+ diverse people. Some more than others, but no one I shudder to encounter. I even have a small crush. *blush*

The male leader in the group is great. He's theologically sound, patient, strong (character-wise), thoughtful, and always on the ball. And, when he can't be on the ball he lets people know. I have no qualms with him. Can't say the same for the female leader.

I know she's been a leader for a couple of years, and honestly I don't understand why she is. Maybe she wants to be a leader, or feels it's her calling? Because I don't think she's very good at it. That very fact confuses me, because I've heard other women say she's a good leader and I find myself thinking 'are we thinking of the same person?' Part of me wants to say it's because she's 30 and single and overweight and none too attractive but I know that can't be it because I've had other women's leaders who were over 30, single, and who the world might not consider attractive but they were *beautiful* and I admired them deeply, and was happy to be under their leadership.

It's no so here. Maybe it's because I feel that she really desires to be married but rejects that desire and instead is trying to substitute her want for a husband and family by being a more-than-full-time nanny. She went through seminary to become a full time babysitter. Maybe it's because she' doesn't seem gentle or thoughtful to me. Maybe it's because I don't see her interact with men much. Maybe it's because I've seen her disagree over what appeared to me, petty things during a discussion. Maybe it's because every time she's supposed to tell us about something, or it's her job to *do* something where other people depend on her she doesn't come through.

One prime example is that our group was supposed to volunteer together. I asked about it at group this week, "are we signed up? Do we need to sign ourselves up?" I was told "No!" She would do it, she said, I shouldn't sign up on my own, she said. Guess what? I just got an email saying that she didn't remember to and we need to sign up on our own, oh, and most of the slots are filled because it's pretty late. I would have signed up days ago but she told me not to. She rarely arranges things for the women, and nothing out of her way (or so it seems to me). Once a week she invites people to watch a tv show with her that, frankly, I find a little offensive. I mean, to each his own conscience, but she could have picked a show that didn't center around people being jerks to each other. I know that attending would make me think less of them, so I don't. So, in this case I am the weaker brother, there's just no allowance being made for me.

Group started up three months ago. Is everyone on the email list yet? Nope nope nope. I had to send a note saying that it was hurtful to be forgotten before I was put on the list. Is that what other people have to do too? So she'll remember more than her couple of friends? It's not just me that she leaves out or forgets or doesn't come through for, it's a lot of people.

And, I was supposed to wait for her to tell me about how to become a member...I waited for nearly two months, and then last week she said I needed to sign up online. XD Really, how hard would it have been to tell me a month ago?

And she was like this last year as well.
Now, I understand quite well that everyone has a life. This isn't a job, it's a volunteer gig. But having been a leader myself, when you do that you're responsible for the girls or women under your charge. They are to all be a priority in your life. If you can't do that job than you shouldn't be a leader. It doesn't matter if you want to, if you can't do it than you shouldn't.

So, I don't understand how she's a good leader, or why I should look up to her and I don't understand why other people do.
As her sister in Christ I haven't a clue how to respond. Apparently no on else has called her out on it. Should I be patient with her and understand that she will screw up every time and just let it slide or what? Should I just not consider her a leader?

Haunted

2009-09-25T19:31:00.000-07:00

"Cause I'm so easily satisfied
By the call of lovers so less wild"
-Wedding Dress, Derek Webb

Ok, maybe those aren't the exact lyrics, but that's what I hear when I listen to the song, and those are the words that keep haunting me. "easily satisfied...lovers so less wild."

I don't want to be easily satisfied. I don't want less wild lovers. I want the one who's so grand he frightens me. But I'm so easily satisfied. How disappointing. Is He disappointed in me, too?

It reminds me of this chapter in John Eldridge's book The Sacred Romance. I think the chapter is actually called Less Wild Lovers. I'm not sure I even read it. I think I was afraid of what I'd find. I'm still afraid, but not so afraid that I want to stop. I want to run. I want to run until I'm home. I want to run until I'm in my Father's arms. How do I run? How do I please the one who became incarnate for me, who loves me, who died for me, who knows me? Be a good girl? But I'm not a good girl. Be perfect? I would love to be, but I believe it's beyond my capability in this life.

Do you know Rebecca St. James' song Lion? That's what I want. The rush of knowing the power before me, the terror of it, and the confidence that what's before me is Good.

What are these whispers in my head? What will they turn me into, and am I ready?

"Because money cannot buy
A husband's jealous eye..."

Cuz love is different than you think

2009-09-24T21:04:00.000-07:00

I've been finding myself lately ruminating over the same thought. Over and over and over and over. But, ironically, I find it hard to put it into words. Or maybe...I can.

I want nothing but God.
I want that desperately. I want it more and more each day. It permiates my thoughts dozens of times an hour. It stirs every atom in my body. I want to know Him and be known.

It's a living ache inside of me. A desperate striving. Just to know and be known by the Living God.

Nothing else matters, whispers a voice in my heart. I would do anything, I would give up anything, the world is a vapor compared to this. Nothing else matters.

And, interestingly, those thoughts motivate me to live. Sort of; this world is a vapor, breathe it in. But it's so confusing, because right now I'm a vapor, too. I feel like a ghost who wants to feel the Sun on my face.

And, I'm afraid. Afraid to be that committed, to be in one hundred percent, to hold nothing back. I'm not even sure what that looks like, that I've ever seen it, but it's like a tug of war inside of me. I feel like I should give it all away, and yet I have no physical proof for such an action. I feel like I should live but I don't know what direction I need to go. Like there's so much to be done, but I'm done with it all.

And, I just want Him. I just want His presence. I want to kneel before His throne and never leave. I want to breathe. I feel like I'm in a body that doesn't fit.

Also, I want to be worthy of His presence, but I don't think I can be. That, of course, brings up an entirely other internal debate.

Am I the only one who thinks like this?

My biggest fear about my Faith

2009-09-20T20:50:00.000-07:00

Do you ever worry that it's not...real? Worse than that, that it is real and the answer's right there and you can't quite grasp it?

So often in my life I've felt like that scene in Dante's Infirno, where you're constantly chasing flags while fleeing a swarm of bees, knowing both that you'll never catch the flags and if you stop you'll be overtaken.

My greatest terror is not that I'll end up alone, or even that I'll end up with someone "bad," but that on the day that I am judged, as I wait in longing, it will turn out that longing for God was not enough. That believing with what little faith I have was not enough. That it will turn out that I simply didn't get it, or, for you Calvinists, that It simply didn't get me. And that God will turn to me and not know me and not love me and I'll be cast from the presence of the one thing I truly ache for. Perhaps because I didn't ache for it enough while not in His presence.

Which brings me to wonder about a works based salvation and if, in fact, that's really what I've turned this into. Even if the work is "getting it." I have a difficult time believing that believing and confessing is all we do, or that we only have to do it once. And, even if it's true, how do we know personally that we're among the elect?

There's a song by Sojourn that goes -
Mistaken souls that dream of heaven and make their empty boast
of inward joy and sins forgiven while slaves to greed and lust

I am terrified of being that person, the mistaken soul. It's a desperate consuming terror. Forget Hell. This isn't even a discussion of the punishment as much as the deprivation of the presence of God. How could you even notice suffering if you'd just seen Him only to be deprived of Him? Your own internal suffering would overwhelm everything else. The dispair would be never ending. And that's what I'm afraid of.

I'm not fool enough to claim inward joy. I'm not sure I've ever had sustainable joy or peace. I long for it, but I've not got it. Instead, I have longing. Consuming longing for something I can neither see nor sense nor touch. I've never felt much different any of the hundred times I said the sinner's prayer as a child, nor when I said my own as an adolescent, nor when I was baptized. I thought there was supposed to be something, like, like love at first sight. You just *know*. But all I know is that the older I get the more I realize that I don't *know* much.

Being a Christian is supposed to change us. How much and how fast? How much and how fast is personal proof? Or, is personal improvement not proof of anything more than a strong will? What if you didn't want to improve? Situational conditioning? Softening with age? If "belief" is all that's require than those who prayed a prayer and went on to live their lives as normal, are they going to be in heaven? Will God know their names? Will he know mine, even if I had sins I never overcame?

And, what is the standard for a godly woman? I hear things like good marriage is a "godly man and a godly woman pursuing and loving one another through godly means." But...what is godly? That goes back to the "how much is enough?" question. And, I don't ask it in a desire to do as little as required, rather more the opposite, but a desire to have some point in which I can quench that nagging voice that tells me that I never do enough I never am enough. I tend to go with "you're godly if you're as perfectly like God as a human can be." Unfortunately I'm pretty sure I'll never reach that standard while alive, and if I've somehow misunderstood the Gospel than not when I'm dead either. So, what happens if I meet a godly guy? Well, if he's interested in me than I can't accept his advances because I am most certainly not godly. Though equally I'd be baffled how he managed godliness. And yet, to live as an unbeliever is unacceptable, right? To bend scripture to make excuses, or to fit it to what you understand of the practical world, or to what you desire or think is best; all of that is unacceptable. So, if you don't do that are you godly? Or, do you have to do that plus be sociable (an extrovert if possible, get brain surgery if neccessary), have an hour long quiet time every day, write devotionals, be a leader (be going into ministry if possible, apparently there's one acceptable reason for debt; seminary) in some ministry in the church, go to church at least twice a week, participate in at least one weekly bible study, street evangelize, go on mission trips for foreign countries, wear cardigans and kackies, pray under your breath all the time, adopt an annoying person, read only Christian books, and have at least one accountability partner (or, if you're a woman, also have a mentor).

Is that what being a good Christian is?
If I somehow manage all that plus a job and personal interests without having an nervous breakdown will I than feel solid in my salvation?
If we can't be saved through good works can we be sanctified through them?
Can you *want* to be saved but not be allowed?
Is desire proof enough? What if desire rarely (or never) becomes action? What then?
How do you define godliness, and why does everyone assume that the definition is universally understood?

And, how do I know that I'm not just chasing after the wind in everything I do. And, if perchance I look inside myself and see that all my motives are tainted, that all actions are selfish at their root, then what? How does someone corrupted in a corrupt world become pure? How can I become anything to anyone? How can I be sure God wants me and has chosen me? How can I work out my salvation with fear and trembling so that the fear and trembling eventually gives way to confidence and...godliness (whatever that looks like)?

Living Faith

2009-09-04T20:58:00.000-07:00

This song has been changing my life lately:
It's by Sojourn and it's on their new CD Over the Grave.

Mistaken souls that dream of heaven and make their empty boast
Of inward joys and sins forgiven
While slaves to greed and lust
Vein is the will of mortal men if faith is cold and dead
... living ... unites to Christ the living Head

Pray for the living faith
That leads us to trust this grace
We cannot come to God on our own

A faith truly sees
That drives us to bended knees
Looking for hope in the cross of Christ alone

True faith will purify the soul
And faith will work by love
It forces sinful thoughts to go and lifts our mind above
This faith will concur earth and hell by Gods celestial power
This is the grace that will prevail in the decisive hour

Pray for the living faith
That leads us to trust this grace
We cannot come to god on our own

A faith that truly sees
That drives us to bended knees
Looking for hope in the cross of Christ alone

Pray for the living faith
That leads us to trust this grace
We cannot come go God on our own

A faith that truly sees
That drives us to bended knees
Looking for hope in the cross

It takes every breath to God alone (x3)

______________________________

I find myself hoping that I am not one of those people in the first stanza. Oh, please don't let me be one of those people. So often I feel enslaved to my own sin, hardly able to boast of anything, captured by an enemy that both nauseates and enthralls me. Oh, how I want that living faith. I want to love to be my currency, I want repentance to be my native tongue. And, don't want to forget it just because life isn't what I'd hoped for.

They say that migraines cause vivid dreams.

2009-09-04T20:42:00.000-07:00

Thank goodness for that! It really makes up for the dizziness and the bummy feelings and the wafting headaches.

I've been having a lot of dreams lately.

I'll start with the most recent one (and this is totally the reason I take naps. I have absolutely awesome dreams when I only sleep for a couple of hours). My mother was driving me and my sister and herself to the Seminary for childcare, but we got there early and there was something odd in the parking lot. It was like a circus, but not quite, more like a few circus rejects and some kids with toys. The point is that she stops the car but decides that it would be problematic to stop now, so before I can get out she begins to drive again. She drives behind the Seminary onto this winding road and I ask her where we're going, we're going to be late for childcare. She says that we're early and we might as well go here for a little bit. We're surrounded by forest. We come out of the forest onto a beach. A beach I'd been to before. I said that we should get out and play around in the water for a bit. My mother wasn't so keen on that idea. That's when I realized I was wearing my long blue silk skirt. I opened the car door but she was driving into the water. Kids were playing. Out between two large and further down rocks we could see another beach, one that spread into the ocean. I think I was about to tell them that that was the rich people's beach. Well, the water was getting somewhat deep and I was worried about the engine flooding so I told my mother to drive to the right to get out of waves. She managed to back the car up into a deeper area before we came out and nearly flooded out the engine. Well, neither of us were in the best mood after that. She drove back to this picnic area because it was almost time for work to start. We hadn't driven that far so it shouldn't have been difficult to get back, but my mother drove around and wasn't able to find her way out. I was frustrated and she was frustrated. We got out of the car and I was about to suggest that we head toward the large painted exit sign and that I drive when a square between two trees went white with static, like a giant tv screen. My heart dropped into my feet. "oh no no no no no" I was thinking, as I began to turn in a circle. Other people were questioning what was going on as various areas between trees went white with static and then righted themselves, and suddenly I could see how the forest was only real a little way in (and I thought 'how could we have missed that all this time?'). I thought of the Trueman Show, and how this was frightening and rather cruel. I told my mother "we have to go, now." but then everything went dark. I woke in a room with a small television mounted to the wall next to the door. A door that wouldn't open. The screen came on and there was an alien. He was very thin and green and white. I thought he looked like Jim Carry. I thought that would explain a lot about Jim Carry. He said something about being stuck here, about choosing what we did, about people in other rooms (and I got the impression that they'd captured many people, and our cats). In the chair there was another screen and there was something on it about picking our pets. I think we were to pick how they were genetically manipulated. There were little screens in clothing drawers filled with my clothes. There were little screens everywhere, in ever drawer and shelf, but I had to look for them, they were hidden, ready to drop down. They wanted to participate or pick everything. Me, I planned to get out of there.

Earlier I had a dream that Dr. Who's ship had been captured by government agents. They were going to open it. Apparently he'd gotten the chameleon arch fixed because it looked like a big glowy dome now, not a police box. So, it's in this giant bunker type government building with giant bay windows looking out from rooms above it. There's general, rather young man, more likely a bureaucrat than an actual military man, who's determined to open it, and the Doctor was there. He wanted his ship back. He began to type into the computer at a blinding speed, and symbols and and equation came up onto the screen, and behind them the swirl of the time vortex. "Ah, yes," said the government man, "the time equation. But men are of such weak wills." Meaning that someone without the will of a titan could not control the time vortex through an equation. Glaring, confident, and defiant all in one sweep the Doctor came up behind the man and, as he looked out at his captive ship, he said lowly; "I'm no weak willed man." And then the time vortex expanded and he was gone and his ship was dissapearing. I stood there, staring out at the vortex and the ship and realized I was Rose. "Yes!" I thought "I'm Rose, he won't leave me behind." But, I wasn't completely confident of that. Then there was a news report about an alien space ship having been parked in a parking lot, and how the government had taken it. There were pictures of the ship and people watching it. Bit conspiracy cover-up thing. Then I was with the taxidermist from Pushing Daisies and we were trying to escape from something and he directed me into this sewer system. But, it went far far below ground and opened into this underground, multi-level, maze with stairs and such. I ended up on a higher level than him and he was trying to find a way for me to get down, and then someone came and stacked these little blocks and showed him how it to do it.

Earlier than that I dreamed that the Taylons had gathered all the existing meteor freaks (that's Final Conflict and Smallville) into one room. They were going to make use of them. I was gathered as well, though I wasn't a meteor freak. I was part Taylon, though not much, certainly not half taylon like Liam. People started to go around and share their gifts in an odd rendition of a group ththerapy session. When it came to me I just sort of looked around and went to sit against the wall. A woman came and sat next to me and asked me "hey, aren't you going to talk about your power." I looked at her, incredulous, and said "My power is that I'm sometimes sort of a little bit psychic. Why would I talk about that? I'm a little bit psychic, I have the lamest superpower ever. No thank you, I'm not talking about it." Then she left and there was this guy sitting next to me, and another a few chairs down. He had a long nose and a British face (no chin). I thought he looked like a character. The guy next to me was playing with water, making it run in patterns over a book and his face, defy gravity. I thought it was fascinating and I asked him "can you drown?" I continued to ask whether he could turn into water or if water could hurt him as one would assume that someone who controlled fire couldn't be hurt by fire. As I was talking he choked and died. It turned out he'd choked on an ice cube.

Because I had been talking to him, and obviously imagining his death when he died, the people in the room were no longer comfortable around me. They also discovered somehow that I was at the battle of Canary Warf when all those people died, and I knew that I'd been wondering about an alien invasion then. So, it began to seem that my super power was accidentally causing people's deaths, a thought that was nearly as disconcerting to me as it was to the people in the room with me, who gave me a wide birth. Then my mother showed up and began to wash something in a kitchenet, talking about giving a ride home to a woman I used to work to, and how rude she was, and I confirmed that it was the woman's nature.

exercise, the future, and other things

2009-08-28T21:41:00.000-07:00

Why do we say "the future" as though there's only one when, in fact, the future is constantly changing, and the time beyond us that we're referring to is often not the same? Seriously?

I guess I just wanted to hash out several things, I'll try and break them up.

1. I finished with the boxes, inventorying and re-packing it all. I am extremely sad about that because, quite frankly, I'm not ready to go yet. I keep waiting for something to happen, something good. But my old friends weren't that happy to see me, less than a handful initiated *anything* with me, and they're all busy with families or work or lives they established while I was gone. I'm struck by how profoundly I've failed to make a place for myself anywhere in this world. I keep waiting for someone to come around and want me. But, let's be frank, that probably isn't going to happen. And then there's the fact that I stay home a lot. Now, I'd stay home less if I actually knew of things going on, but all I know to do is call friends to invite them to one on one stuff and most of them are busy, or tired, and so I try not to impede on their lives too much. I mean, I don't have a job or a family. They have important things. I don't. And, so it really should be me who makes the effort, but right now I'm too tired and too sad that all my old effort yielded so little results. But, my parents are here, and they love me, and they'll spend time with me, and at least that's something against a loneliness that consumes. So, I'm not ready to go yet. Overall last year was quite lonely, more so, I now think, because I tried to hold onto friends in the States who had no intention of holding onto me. I'm not keen on a repeat. And also, I'm aware that I'm coming to an age where people stop making friends and keep the ones they've got. I can't keep loosing friends, I have to figure out how to make myself into someone people want to keep, or a time will come when I won't get more chances. But, I'm not ready to set the world aside on the desperate and off chance that staying put will bring me friends and lasting friendship and community.

How can I trust anything in this world when nothing is guaranteed?

2. I got offered what is probably very good advice a few days ago. One of my few friends told me that I need to let go of the past. Not forget it, let it go. She told me to look at the future. The only problem is looking at the future results in things like the previous paragraph. Still, I think she's right. I let the past hold me back too much. I let it dictate me.

3. Working out. I've had three really good work outs this week. I'm happy for them. I did a veritable ton of yard work and found a new place to jog (it has hills!). Why it is that I find it easier to jog up a hill than on a strait path? Probably because I spent almost all my free time last year climbing a mountain. The workouts are comfortable, fun, and beautiful. Unfortunately the price has been my legs. I miscounted yesterday, with the bites on my arms I have around 50 of them. I also have various scrapes and bruises this week from yard work and tripping and dropping things on myself. I'm exhausted, which I think is because I am sleeping on one of the most lumpy mattresses ever. I think the dog's hay pile is probably more comfy. Anyway, at least the working out upped my dwindling confidence enough that I was able to dress nicely today and clean up and eat rather healthy. I plan to try and take my parents to the place where I have been jogging this week. I'd like them to walk with me, it's very pretty. I thought about inviting people my age, but I don't know who works out, or who would consider it a competition (which is something appalling to me) or who wouldn't enjoy it (this seems a common sentiment among my age bracket).

4. A few days ago my mother said that she thought that people mimicking me made me happy. I was pretty disturbed by this as people mimicking me makes me unhappy. I tolerate it, though, if I think it's an improvement on what they were doing previously, or if I think the goal was to please me. I don't want people to feel that they failed to please me if they tried. I don't want people to be like me, I want people to be their best selves. I was actually really upset that I have failed to convey this to my mother in 25 years. So, when I got a chance I told my mom that I'd told my father that moving to south Korea would be a bad idea. Every since I lived there he's been talking about moving. It's like he didn't hear a word I said about the place, or how I don't really want to go back. Finally I just told him it would be quite cruel to my mother and sister to move there, and I didn't think he'd fit in. I felt cruel myself to say that, but if he wants to move to a country he should do it because he's got a passion about it, not because he's misinterpreted me. The conspiratorial looks upset me too. I hate it when things are expect of me and I can't fulfill them, it's very stressful and I'm not psychic. I told my mom and she seemed somewhat disappointed, she said "oh," and I'm hoping that's because I made it clear that I don't want people to mimic me, especially my parents. That just feels wrong, especially when then come to me like a child and go "look, I did it just like you!" Then I just want to vomit with guilt. Still, I hope I got my meaning across, and did it without doing something that will cease to ever get my mom to do anything to make me happy. She has this all or never thing that I try really hard (and have a sneaking suspicion I fail) to circumvent. Yes, I want her to eat organic meat and dairy products, but not because I do, but because it's good for her. Yes, I want her to exercise, but not because I lost weight, but because she wants to be healthy and show people how lovely she can be. Yes, I want her to travel, but because it would expand her and maybe make her happy, not because I do it.

5. I cleaned up my room too. I feel like I have no reason to stay. My sister is better, my things are packed, the room is clean, I should just pick the next place that offers something and go. Forget study or preparation, leave, I don't belong. There's nothing for me here. Nothing that's supposed to be for me. I am nothing I'm supposed to be, at least that's how I feel, and my sincerest hope is that if I do nothing else than I keep others from feeling like they're nothing they're supposed to be.
How is it that I can have done so much, experienced so much, be capable of so much, and still fail epically <-is that the right word?) at life?

It's raining. I like rain.

p.s. sorry if this is depressing, I'm just venting

A Movie Analysis

2009-08-28T20:15:00.001-07:00

I just finished watching "Chocolate," a Tia movie about a girl with autism (does she have autism? I didn't think it was entirely clear in the movie) who is an idiot savant with mad marshal arts skills. Apparently it came out in 2008. Lovely English subtitles. As a child she starts watching the guys doing Tia kickboxing in the courtyard and it just sort of expands from there. It's also about children trying to save a loving parent (in this case her mother) who gave up everything to take care of her unique daughter. There's a bit of a Romeo and Juliet feel to the parents' relationship. That of course ends when the evil crime boss kills the mom.
Frankly I was expecting everyone to die. It seems to be a theme in "feel good" Asian movies. Of course, they also have honor suicide, so I don't know why I'm surprised. Surprisingly, that isn't the case in this movie. Turns out that the little savant got her mad skills (hehe, I love that expression) from her Japanese daddy (her mom was Tia) and he comes to the rescue in the end. Of course, that's how long it takes the mom to ask for help. I couldn't figure out why she didn't just go with him in the beginning, but I guess if she had there wouldn't be a movie would there? Anyway, despite being stabbed and gargling blood at one point the father recovers. I think he should be featured on Heroes, obviously he has Woverine-like healing ablity, plus super agility. Anyway, after chasing down and killing her mother's killer (hey, the dad was recovering, it takes a few minutes to heal from a six inch stab wound), she comes back to the body and is comforted by her father. Her father, who apparently loved both her mother and her takes her to the much more beautiful and comfortable Japan. It ends with them walking along a shore and a short monologue about childhood and love making everything worthwhile.
I think they definately could have done a worse job. I was sad that the cousin didn't go with them though, and I would have liked the mother to be able to say goodbye.
There were minut-e that I know I missed. Things that were supposed to have signifigance but because of the cultural differences I only saw them cinimatically highlighted but have no clue of the supposed signifigance. Like the beads, or why the mother never left, or the problem with her sending a letter, like, once every four years. I couldn't figure out why the mob boss shot himself in the toe at the beginning either. I wasn't quite sure what the father giving his pin to the elders meant (that he was quitting the mob?). Oh, and I don't understand the title. Having been in Korea and knowing that mixed kids are often called 'monkey' I wonder if it's a reference to the girl's mixed parentage. Otherwise to the candies she ate (but considering that it wasn't a particularly coherent theme in the movie I don't know why they'd title because of that). I did get that the mom put herself in front of the father when he was about to be stabbed and that they were always bound by blood. Any other symbolism or pop references were completely lost on me.
Interesting movie though, and I'd definately recomend it. It's action packed and has some funny and touching scenes, and an ending that's not half bad.

32

2009-08-27T20:49:00.000-07:00

So, I fixed up my parents' lawn yesterday, front and back. Pruned the trees and hedges, mowed, clipped the stuff that was in too awkward a place to be mowed. And, between where the basketball shorts stopped at my knees and the socks started at my ankles I got roughly 32 bites (I may have missed one or two in counting). Yep, you read that right, 32.
I think you can see about 10 or 12 in the picture, there's a lot more on the back and sides that you can't see (lol, and I almost didn't put this up at all because I'm not a big fan of my legs. How is it that guy's legs look great at any angle but most womens', and certainly mine, almost always look bad from anything but the side?). I have one word; itchy.

But, I'm being a trooper and not scratching.

Now, without futher ado; one of the many reasons I love my town is the beautiful parks

And, I now have undenyable proof that both the cats in my parents' home are odd:

Otherwise, I have the contents of my tool box to write up and then I'll be totally done with all the inventorying of my stuff. Which is pretty much bizarre. Maybe I'll also write up a list of things that I have but I haven't packed away. I don't know why I'm making the list. It's not like I wouldn't give the stuff away if I needed to, or like I'd be broken up if most of it were burned or stolen. I guess I've always wanted to do it, just to feel adult and to keep record. People and possessions are so strange and I just can help but be struck by how temporary all this is. How temporary we are. Can't you feel time rushing by you like a roaring wind? And we're so *small*. The universe blinks and we're dust. It's a miracle that we matter at all.

People all over the world

2009-08-26T14:32:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd put up some pictures of people in the places I've been. It's all different, but at the same time they're all people. Just people. Everywhere. We're from different cultures and different backgrounds and speak different languages but in the end we're all still people. I like that.
The countries are Spain, France, Wales, Korea, Japan, Germany, Ireland, Sweden, Denmark, and Australia.

2009-08-24T18:27:00.000-07:00

So, I've been feeling really bummed for, oh, a week now. I keep trying to tell myself it's not perminant (it's not perminant, it's not perminant...), but that's the thing with depression, the longer you have it the more it stretches out into the past and into the future, like a ripple. This is also probably the first time I've gotten depression where I had the wherwithal to analys it like I am.

Of course, that doesn't mean that I *feel* any better, but I've spent at least half of my life under the veil of depression and if there are a few things I know, they're these:
-It's never perminant, a few months isn't perminant.
-It taints everything.
-The key is to acknowlege feelings and live anyway.

The last one is particularly difficult because one of the defining features of depression is lethargy. Yay, ennui.
emu, emu, emu, yeah, yeah, yeah *does a little dance*
*^_^* sorry, had a moment.

Right, so then I'm wondering why am I feeling depressed? And, aside from that sadistic little voice in my head going oh, I don't know, because you suck and no one will love you, which I know is the depression speaking and no circumstance, these are what I came up with:

I presently don't have a job, this could be a bit depressing on several levels.
No job also means that a part of my identity, that most socities consider pretty integral, is missing, so that could be a bit depressing.
I've nearly finshed categorizing, packing, and inventorying everything I own.
I'm almost finished with the project that was my main reason for staying, finishing projects can be depressing as can loosing a reason for staying.
My old friends have lives that I feel like I'm interupting, could be a bit depressing if for no other reason than lonelyness.
I really have no idea where I'm going but I'm afriad to repeat the experience I had last year, could be a bit depressing.
I'm presently living with my parents, which, even for only a short time, and with really supportive parents, could be a bit depressing.
I'm no longer on pysch meds buoying me up to keep me from getting depressed
I'm no longer traveling or doing anything new, it's like coming off a year long adrenaline rush.
Turns out the guy I liked last year is engaged, this is seriously, like, the seventh time something like this has happened, and feeling like Good Luck Chuck is a bit depressing.
I've put on 5 or 6 pounds since I moved home, a little depressing.
I haven't been working out as regularly, so no happy endorphens to buoy me up.
Icky depression makin hormones and chemicals in my foods.
Knowing I'm going to have to start looking for a job again soon can be daunting and depressing.
knowing I'm going to have to leave the comfort of my parents' home can be a little depressing.
Job tension and tension in general in my parents home, as I'm an emotional sponge, can result in me being anxious and a bit depressed.

Hmmm, when I look at it that waythan maybe what I'm feeling is exactly normal for my situation, I just have to stick it out, right?

Not so easily done though.

Because, really, what am I looking forward to? It's difficult to stay optomistic when you look forward and see only death and decay.

A Lucky day

2009-08-22T17:04:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have a day where you just go "today is a lucky day"? Well, I'm having one of those days. Now I don't have a lot of days like those, but then, I don't suppose I need them. Perhaps I simply don't have a lot of 'unlucky' days. Anyway, I was at the grocery and they had organic milk. At Meijers! Then I was in the check-out line and the woman in front of me let me go in front of her.

Then I got pulled over for running a red. I really did think the yellow would last longer and I'm not prone to running reds. It was kind of ironic because I was thinking "wow, I'm becoming a real kentuckian...crap, those lights are for me aren't they?" I was, like, 100 yards from my parents' house, too.
Aaaand, he let me off with a warning.
O_o !!!!
Did I mention the cop was kind of cute?

And he let me off with a warning.

"ma'am, do you have any guns or weapons in the vehicle."
"...I don't...know. See, my father's an ARMY chaplain so he may have left one in here."
"...it's ok ma'am."
...
"Ma'am, have you ever had a ticket before?"
"*gulp and squeaky voice* no..."
"well, make sure not to get one."
O_o
"Where were you going by the way?"
"erm...McDonalds?"
"Don't run the red next time, a BigMac isn't worth $150."
"ok. Thank you. *drives off, parks, and bawls in relief*"

I bet I could run in front of traffic today and not get hit. It would have been a good day to invest in the stock market.

I needed a day where things went unexpectedly well. Living has taken on an air of dieing recently.

Some days are just going to be bad ones

2009-08-20T11:25:00.000-07:00

So, I had this conversation with my father last night after he had been (what I consider) too kind in responding to my sister's...bitchyness. I guess I just wanted him to be angry that I'd been mistreated so, that my mother had, but he wasn't. He expressed no sense of injustice, no desire to defend. But then, my dad has always been a fixer, not a defender, and those are two very different things. He'd be the knight who didn't save the princess because it was her cousin who was trying to kill her, not some kingdom destroying dragon, and her cousin "wasn't any of my business." But enough about that.

I said that I thought that telling someone in a vicious tone of voice that a. you hate them b. everything is their fault c. you know where they sleep d. you will hurt them and/or e. you're going to slit their throat (all quotes from the last couple of days btw!) was an indicator that the person speaking does not, in fact, really love the listener. My father went "nope" to everything. As in, he disagreed. I said that you don't treat someone you love cruelly, and he disagreed. I said that you didn't insult and manipulate someone you loved, and he disagreed. I said you don't go about trying to hurt someone you really love, and he disagreed.

Have I been thrown into some weird alternate universe? Because I could have sworn I had a pretty good lock on what love looked like and the treatment my sister dishes out is not love. It's messed up.

And, was my father disagreeing with me because I was wrong or was he disagreeing with me because if I were right than some of his own behavior would have no excuse?

I said that it certainly wasn't any form or fashion of Biblical love (let's see "love is patient, love is kind, love does not envy or boast, it is not arrogant or rude. it does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things." Nope, what we're looking at is not love). He didn't really respond to that but gave me a look like I didn't know what I was talking about. (and why is it that I only know what I'm talking about in regards to the Bible when I agree with him? And why is it that he can pick and choose things that the Bible says and make them irrelivant to him if he just says it's not modernly applicable or practical? Since when was the Bible ever *practical*? It's *supposed* to be countercultural.)

I am exceptionally upset by this.
Exceptionally.
Why? Because if love is not kind, if it is not patient, if it delights in suffering, if it is dishonest, if it is short of temper, and arrogant, if it does not protect, does not compromise, and envies out the wazoo than frankly I don't want it. You can keep it, because if love is those things rather than the things in the Bible than it is just as much an indicator of the depravity and selfish self-destruction of man as polluted rivers and dirty air. If that is a picture of love than there is nothing good in us.

If not even love protects us than we all should die now.
Poor Wesley, he was mistaken, love's not worth living for.

. . .

Love is not

I need to move out before my head gets messed up again.

Cards

2009-08-20T06:07:00.000-07:00

Well, it is what it says, pictures of some cards that I've made. I actually made several more but I only remember to take pictures of them, before sending, about half the time.

Not quite a feet fetish

2009-08-19T18:29:00.000-07:00

So, I like to take pictures of people's feet. Generally when they're not watching. There are many benefits to this.
For example; I don't have to get their permission, feet tell a lot about people, it's fun and makes me feel like Harriot the Spy, I get some truly interesting shots.
I thought I'd put them up here.
Again, please, no stealing.

Ok, this one needs some editing so there's more cement, less rear ends.
Lol, and now, my own feet:

A Few Flower Pictures I've Edited in PS

2009-08-18T15:04:00.000-07:00

I'm still trying to adjust to the program after almost two years of not using it. That and I was using CS before and now I'm using CS4. I think my dodging and burning is still a little iffy, and I'm still getting used to the sharpening and softening. I think they looked edited, rather than as natural as I'd like them to be, but I'm working on that.
*These pictures are mine btw, so, if you like them, please compliment rather than 'borrow'.

The dog always wants me to scratch his butt

2009-08-18T12:39:00.000-07:00

It's true. The dog is probably sitting in the back yard thinking about how great it would be if someone would scratch his butt. He has allergies. Yes, butt allergies. We give him this medicine that keeps him from chewing off the fur and skin around his tail but he still wants it scratched, which is gross, cuz it's all bald and stuff.

I'm trying to train the dog some more. He has words and hand motions for sit, lay, and up. And, he knows come and stay though whether or not he follows them is still iffy. If I have something he really wants he'll obey, if I have something he's dying for he's not so cooperative. I'm trying to teach him to shake hands and trying to reinforce some other words that I know he knows. It doesn't help that I'm the only one who trains him but my family seems to be under the impression that dogs understand synonims. Which probably just leads to the poor dog being yelled at and then my family giving up and then I have to practically retrain him every time I come home. *sigh*

They can't grow a garden either.

Presently my sister's devil-cat is staring at my computer and wondering if he walked across it, getting fur all in the gears and...obviously he saw me glaring at him because he's decided to go glare out the front door.

When I say devil-cat what I really mean is hell-spawned-minny-fluffball-devil, aka. The Fluffy Thing. His habbits include shedding on everything, sleeping on people's clothing (see exhibit A) being ugly, rubbing his cold wet nose on my elbow, waking me up with his cold wet nose on my face, howling at my door in the middle of the night, howling next to our heads should we be so unlucky as to leave the door open, and jumping on the stomachs/feet of sleeping humans.

My mother's cat (formerly my sister's cat and once-upon-a-time actually named "baby cat") is 14 and so he's probably sleeping somwhere, probably my parents' bed, or the bed I sleep in. He sleeps a lot.

In the back ground I can hear Buffy crying on the last episode of Btvs S3. My sister, who got her tonsils and adenoids out yesterday is playing it in her room while she types on the computer in the den. Isn't she supposed to be asleep or something? And, I thought she wasn't going to be able to talk. Boy was I wrong! She can even talk loudly on her cell phone at 3 am - apparently the pain meds have acted like caffine. Whyyyyy? Really? She is also starting to look like she has a fever, which is bothering me. She may annoy me, but she's still my sister. She's also got a psycho tempter (just a side note).

The Fluffy Thing is back, and licking my elbow...