ABC Gum

Yesterday, riding the 92 bus toward Anacostia again, there was a very old African American man sitting next to me, singing and joking with a woman across from us. His silliness, my nose told me, was to some extent alcohol-induced. So at one point he gasps at me and announces, "Your breath smells so sweet!"

"It's cause I'm chewing gum," I explain. "You want a piece?"

He has a great laugh at this and agrees to my offer, only to be completely bewildered by the hard chicklet-like piece of Orbitz I hand him.

"What on earth am I gonna do with this?" He asks, doubled over with giggles. "I only have one tooth!"

His friend laughs at this, along with a few scattered onlookers.

I want so badly to offer him the gummy piece I've already been chewing, like a mommy bird gives a baby bird pre-masticated worms. But I can't bring myself to say it! I mean, that is a ridiculous offer, what with Swine Flu going around and all, right? "Want some ABC gum, old man?" No. That was crossing a line.

So instead I advised he crush it with his fingers to release the peppermintiness, and then suck on the crumbles. Ha! He had a good laugh at that one, and made sure everyone around us heard my preposterous suggestion. If only he knew my first instinct... He was still holding the Orbitz in his hand and laughing with his lady friend when I exited the bus. I hope he didn't choke.

When to Omit "Un"

I found a weird typo (or creative confession of unfaith) in a doctoral dissertation tonight. Aren't these guys supposed to be deeply clever? So David writes...

"I would like to dedicate this dissertation to my father and mother David Richard Woods, Jr. and Pearl Ernestine Graham who instilled a respect for others, appreciation for education, and an unabiding love and faith in my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ."

The word unabiding sounded weird to me, so I looked it up. This is what I found at dictionary.com:

"No results found for unabiding:
Did you mean unbinding?"

Who knew you could go to hell for having a bad vocabulary?

My 1st Submission to a Photography Contest.

The three photographs I am submitting to the Faces of Education contest were taken at El Sauzal Orphanage in a small town outside Ensenada, Mexico called San Antonio de las Minas.

The subjects of the first photograph, Exodus, are three sisters who had recently moved into the orphanage with their mother. Their mother had abducted the girls from their foster home in Los Angeles, CA and came to Mexico seeking employment and refuge. The orphanage hired her to care for the infants, providing room and board for the family. At the time of this photograph, the girls were still timidly assimilating into life at the orphanage and spent most of their time together. This didn't last long, though, and they soon warmed up to their new sisters and brothers and mothers and uncles.



My younger brother, Evan, and a little boy who lived at El Sauzal are the subjects of the second photograph titled Symbiosis. I had convinced my mom to let Evan visit the orphanage with my service group for the weekend. He was having trouble in school and at home, and it was beautiful to see his edges soften and perspective change after spending time with children who had so little and were yet so gracious. This was the first of many trips to El Sauzal for Evan.



The third photograph, Generations, was taken at a quincinera for one of the girls living at El Sauzal. The woman on the left is a house mother, and the woman on the right was raised in and now works at the orphanage while training to become a teacher. Both are strong, compassionate women who have the capacity to find humor in every situation.

$1.35 for cheap entertainment

Yesterday I got caught in the middle of a "You so Ugly, You..." battle between two Jr. High boys in the 92 bus toward Anacostia at 4 in the afternoon (you know the bus if you live in DC). These boys were hilarious - one at the front of the bus and the other at the back, yeah, a safe distance from which to insult somebody - and everyone on the bus was hushed to listen to their banter.

You so ugly, you look like a game that ran outta batteries

You so ugly, your momma don't even wanna look at you

You so ugly, your momma don't even have no baby pictures of you

("Awwwwwww....." the audience provokes.)

Your breath so smelly, your tongue wanna move outta your mouth

Your breath so smelly your toothbrush died

And so the banter went. I was actually listening to my iPod when the battle began... until the short kid standing next to me pointed at me and said "Awwwwwww!!!!!" Everyone around me was looking too, and I realized someone probably shouted something that ended with "...that white girl!" I took out an earbud to ask, "Huh?" but the kid had already gone back to his shouting match. Probably for the best. Anyway, it caught my attention.

Gotta love public transportation. I do. So much!

Celery + Cream Cheese + Italian Seasoning + Paprika = YUM

Try and Err

So the "Fruits of the Spirit" experiment...

Not going so well. At our weekly check-up, Deanna and I decided to pull the brakes & venture in a different direction with our efforts, i.e. praying without ceasing.

COMMERCIAL BREAK:
I feel like Small World Wonder has become a more Jesusy blog than I had expected... Well, I guess I in fact have been becoming more Jesusy lately than forecasted. I'm not apologizing for that or anything, but I guess I worry about descending into the Christianeze that can be so unreadable, even when the best intentions are at heart. So, I guess, I'm soliciting constructive criticism if a Jesusy post is obnoxious or unbearable. It won't hurt my feelings, I promise, you can tell me. Kthanksbye.

Ok, so Deanna and I realized (how many blondes does it take to find the fruits of the spirit?) we were going about it all wrong. We were straining to be joyful... at peace... employ all kinds of self control... and we were failing miserably. Ha. Our weekly checkups ended up being full of blank-faced questions like, "Is this a joke? Are we just setting ourselves up to fail and then commiserate in our mutual pathetic-ness?" Not awesome.

The thing is, the fruit of the spirit are not really things to be sought after. They are a byproduct of the thing we are supposed to chase - which is the Holy Spirit. People don't get close to The Spirit by being super-joyful, people become joyful by abiding in the presence and love of The Spirit. Actually. At least this is the replacement hypothesis. Feel free to disagree.

Anyway, now, Brother Lawrence's vision of the spiritual life is helping us re-focus. He wrote The Practice of the Presence of God: The Best Rule of Holy Life, which totally transformed my understanding of Christian spirituality. This short book can actually be read online, I've found, at

http://www.ccel.org/ccel/lawrence/practice.toc.html

and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in living well. Even if you only get through a chapter. Every page is revolutionary and quite nourishing.

My conviction to focus on Abiding in God's presence was confirmed so thoroughly when I listened to a Time Keller podcast from CAC called... Abiding. Yeah. He brought me back to John 15 - a passage I studied to death Freshman year in college in a book by the guy who started the crazy Prayer of Jabaz phenomenon. It was called Secrets of the Vine, and reading it with a small group helped me understand how being a disciple of Jesus is a daily experience. So the Abiding podcast and the Secrets of the Vine book are based on the following passage in John:

The Vine and the Branches

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes[a] so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you. This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples."

I'm hopeful this new focus (communicating with and validating the constant presence of the Holy Spirit) will be more fruitful than the fruit chasing itself. I mean, we started feeling like those mushroom hunters who go out in the wilderness, hoping this immensely valuable fungus will reveal it's hidden location, right? It's insane.

The source is what we should be hunting, not the fruit. So-let-it-be.

Unreliable Narrator Phenomenon

Ever since learning about the whole "Unreliable Narrator" situation Junior year in high school - during the Huckleberry Finn unit if my memory serves me - the whole discernment process has become a theme in my life. Some part of me is driven to determine who the reliable narrators are in various dimensions of life... Friends (who's perspective of life is accurate and who is wearing blurry lenses?), nonfiction authors (I prefer being able to turn off my filter and consume knowledge instead of being provoked to inner debates with the writer), spiritual leaders (who's giving it to me straight, and who is blinded by their own agenda / issues?), etc. I feel like a human filter half the time. I just want to know what is real.

I accused a friend of being an unreliable narrator tonight. He was totally gracious about it, and admitted had in fact been putting a little spin on what was true. It was a good experience in conflict resolution / confrontation / communication, all those C-words that scare the hells out of me. But it also reminded me why I appreciate bluntly honest people. While I still feel the need to consider whether their honesty is truth (or just a totally flawed interpretation), it takes out the intermediate step of determining whether they really believe what they are saying or just posturing. A reliable narrator makes me feel safe and secure.

So, I guess I should take a look at the man in the mirror (eek! i am alone in my apartment and just got freaked out at the thought of seeing a MAN in the mirror, sneaking up behind me!). Right, am I a reliable narrator? Can I be trusted? I'm working on it. "Honestly." But I don't know that it comes as naturally to me as I would like.

Do the Right Thing: A Spike Lee Joint

Now that iPod is back in my life, I've started downloading podcasts to that little black box of joy to enlighten my bus/metro/pedestrial transit. I love listening to This American Life and random sermons, but the newest addition to my playlist had been constantly recommended to me by my college roommate Jessica. Finally I gave in. So far I've listened to a hilarious story about a woman who begrudgingly travelled to Disney World for her younger sister's wedding and the account of a drug addict who decided to become a comedian instead of commit suicide. Laughter is the best, yeah?

To give a little background, The Moth is...

"A not-for-profit storytelling organization, was founded in New York in 1997 by poet and novelist George Dawes Green, who wanted to recreate in New York the feeling of sultry summer evenings on his native St. Simon's Island, Georgia, where he and a small circle of friends would gather to spin spellbinding tales on his friend Wanda's porch. After moving to New York, George missed the sense of connection he had felt sharing stories with his friends back home, and he decided to invite a few friends over to his New York apartment to tell and hear stories. Thus the first "Moth" evening took place in his living room. Word of these captivating story nights quickly spread, and The Moth moved to bigger venues in New York. Today, The Moth conducts eight ongoing programs and has brought more than 3,000 live stories to over 100,000 audience members."


Take a listen @ http://www.themoth.org/listen

or subscribe on iTunes, which is what I in fact do.

Or ignore this advice which is what I did for a couple years. Then taste the rainbow when you are bored one "morning" at two in the afternoon.

a booger on the nose of the body

I visited a church I liked today. It was small (20 people?). It was extremely informal (Q & A following the sermon!). Meditation stations were part of worship. A sweet family took me out to dinner after the service. I want to go back. But I am left with that obnoxiously vague question that more traditionally follows a first date than a church visit... "Yeah, it went well, but is this 'The One'?"

I've never assimilated into a church family without a partner in the process. It's so much easier and less awkward that way. Who can I verbally process today's experience with? No one. I don't know if I can do this alone. Period. It makes me sad. I'm hoping for a loophole.

d. willard

the chief aim of christianity is not to get people into heaven but to get heaven into people. the question is not are we ready to die, it's are we ready to live?

A Different Natasha Kolar Apparently

Jiggle Factor:
The amount of jiggling one's ass creates when they move.

Depending on the way that this phrase is used, it can be a positive or negative phrase (examples below).

(Note: Phrase coined by Natasha Kolar, not me.)
1. Did you see the jiggle factor on that chick?

2. Most guys like a girl with a little bit of a jiggle factor.

3. Check out the jiggle factor on that dancer!

4. "She had a pretty face, but just a little too much jiggle factor going on!"

(Retrieved from Urban Dictionary @ http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=nicole's+butt)

Tim Keller & Me

I'm going to see Tim Keller with Mallie & Joe at the National Cathedral in November. He's such a buzz word lately, and I've been intrigued. Then I realized I read one of his early books 5 years ago in Malawi. Ministries of Mercy: The Call of the Jericho Road. And it was fantastic. So I'm on the bandwagon, I guess, and glad to be. Hay rides are fun!

Teen Spirit

Life As We Know It- it's this random one-season TV series DVD I unearthed at the Northeast Branch Library. I think the creator was aiming for a male take on My So-Called Life. Anyway, I've been eying it for a few weeks and finally grabbed it yesterday. Must have been caffeine-induced optimism. See, I've never actually heard anyone mention it, so I was skeptical. But I recognized all of the key actors, and they have gone on to successful TV/Film careers (i.e. gymnast from Stick It, kid from Private Practice, undercover cop from 90210, hot guy from Never Back Down, um Kelly Osbourne). Besides, I had intended to indulge my inner high schooler, and finally pick up Freaks N Geeks at my brother Eames' insistence, but for once it someone else had rented it. So I was desperate. And I grabbed this random dramedy Life As We Know It.

And it's cool. I'm into it. The plot points are as cliche as any other after school special, but the story moves and the acting is pretty strong. Plus, it's only one season. In and out. I like short-term commitments. This I know.

So I'm not ready to recommend the show yet, but take a cute peek if you are in the mood for teen humor...

http://tinyurl.com/lifeasweknowitclip

Mars Hill v. House

Thesis Statement: When I start my day by pairing the breakfast & hygeine routine with a sermon podcast instead of online TV, greater productivity ensues.

I'm taking a Quantitative Research class this semester, so I know better than to imply causation. But there is definitely a correlation. And that's a HUGE discovery! I mean, it's not easy being the sole provider of structure in my life. Only seven hours a week do I actually need to be somewhere doing something specific (aka Class). The rest of the time I do what I want (i.e. watch TV, do homework, blog, hang out with friends, eat food, take walks). Staying on task is a constant challenge, is all I'm saying. So when a trick reveals itself... Hallelujah!

So my favorite podcasts are...

Epic Church (My family during the Biola years)
http://epicchurch.net

Emmaus Church Community (My favorite church to visit when in NorCal)
http://www.emmausteachings.org

Mars Hill Bible Church (Home of the curious Rob Bell)
feed://www.marshill.org/teaching/podcast.php

What's yours? I'd love to expand my horizons. While brushing my teeth and washing my dishes.

Lie #2: I need Jelly

I decided to write a grocery list, even though I refuse to go grocery shopping until I desperately need to. It was sooo cathartic. Kind of like smelling the chocolate bar I want to eat instead of consuming it. I... wrote down all the things I would buy at Harris Teeters if I felt rich. And imagined eating them. And then crossed each thing off the list that couldn't be substituted by an item I already own.

Cream of Wheat?
No, eat the Oatmeal you already have.

Jelly?
No, there's a jar of unopened apple butter and a plastic beehive of honey in the cupboard. Make do.

Brown sugar?
What's wrong with white sugar?

Chicken?
You have frozen salmon and a carton of tofu for protein. Eat it.

Italian Wedding Soup?
There's a can of minestrone, and if you distract yourself with a great movie, you'll be able to get it down.

Cranberry Juice?
Almost as good for you and low-calorie as water. Nice try.

I'm such an evil dictator. I wish I could be this rigid and disciplined about some other areas of my life. Kind of.

Lie #1: There 's Nothing to Eat!

I hate the phrase, "We don't have anything to eat!" Any roommate I've ever had (including my family) knows this about me. I take it as a challenge. No really, let me show you! There is a potential meal here somewhere - among all the scraps in the refrigerator, freezer, and cupboards.

This makes Tasha on a budget relatively dangerous. I will find a way to make a meal out of nothing when I need to. The angel-demon dialogue in my head (not sure which voice is which?) sounds like this...

"Well, you need Pam or butter to make pancakes."
"No I don't."
"Well, what are you gonna use? Olive oil?"
"Oh, I was thinking mayonnaise, but that's even better!"
"But you don't have Bisquick or baking powder. Your pancakes will be flat! Just run to the store real quick. Pick up a few necessities."
"Hmmm.... You know, crepes are flat."
"But crepes call for butter."
"Pshaw."
"Fine. Just try it out. Go ahead."
"I will. Not that I need your permission."

The "crepe-cake" was great! Four, sugar, vanilla, milk, egg. Topped with a fried egg and syrup - delish! So there. There was something to eat in the house. (Though that sounds strangely carnivorous.)

Small World Wonder

The world feels delightfully tiny when I discover I will be flying into the San Francisco Airport at the same hour as my dear friend from Tanzania! How divine!

Mercy

by Kristene Meuller

What shall i do with you my love
what shall i do with you

for Your loyalty to me is like the morning clouds
like the dew that goes away so early

what shall i do with You my love

you keep bringing me sacrifices
to ease your mind
but it's your heart that i want

hasn't it been a long road
with disappointments
chasing after lovers
that just throw you away

are you done fighting now
all the love it takes to lighten you
shame was never meant to be your portion

you keep bringing me sacrifices
to ease your mind
but it's your heart that i want

though these sins are red as scarlet
i will wash them white in my mercy
those these sins are red as scarlet
i will wash them white in my mercy

All Iron & Wine

Now that Pandora has created a stupid 40 hour a month limit, I am reaching out for alternatives. Grooveshark (a very differnt model) is treating me well. I was skeptical because I like to hear music somebody ELSE chose - the surprise factor. But tonight I typed in Iron & Wine and have been listening to all of their songs straight through, and I have been pleasantly surprised. It doesn't have the redundancy of a self-created playlist (which is what Grooveshark is generally used for). And I like immersing myself in one band. My friend Peter, who introduced me to Grooveshark, claims it eliminates cause to buy CD's since you can listen to any album straight through on the application. And I'm starting to see the light.

Do let me know of any other any other online music alternatives! (Mytunes is one other, but I'm yet to fall in love with it.) I am open to suggestions.

How To Not Write an Essay

Turns out that balloon boy story would make a stranger short than I thought. I wish I could get in the head of the dad who dreamed up the scheme, and then actually convinced his family to play along. And followed through. I think I almost can.

I am nearly finished watching Season 5 of The Wire, which is the final season - and I won't get all cliche about how emotionally crushed I will be when it all ends - in which both a cop and a journalist independently fabricate mutually beneficial stories that turn their respective departments UPSIDE down. Because they are screw-loose & desperate enough to. The trajectory of the show seems to promise to knock over their paper houses, but you never know with The Wire. It's made me think about lying. Lies I have told. Lies I could tell to make my current situation easier. Lies people didn't tell to me that I would have told if I were in their shoes. Lies I would tell if I were pathological enough, but am Not. Lies I suspect people of telling me.

There's a father-to-son quote about lying in the movie the Kite Runner (a movie I couldn't watch for more than 20 minutes, out of respect for the novel... tell me if that was a poor choice)... This gave me a different (though not extremely original) take on lying: "There is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft... When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal his wife's right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness... There is no act more wretched than stealing, Amir."

The most memorable conception of lying I have read is from Marlowe in Heart of Darkness. God, I loved that book. A lie has the "taint of death, and a flavor of mortality in lies." Lying makes him feel "miserable and sick, like biting something rotten would do." I think this when I encounter a lie. It rings true.

Then there's the biopic Shattered Glass (Hayden Christenson & Peter Sarsgaard) about the New Republic journalist who fabricated story after story & was finally destroyed. What makes I journalist decide to dig his own grave, I wonder? Laziness? A lack of reporting skills / talent? Malice? Low IQ?

My friend Mallie is studying to become a journalist, and she told me (over hot apple ciders in her 55* living room) about a reporter under Bernstein who won a Pulitzer for a fabricated story. He allowed her to rely on anonymous CI's because that is what HE and Woodward had to do in order to crack the Watergate scandal. In their pursuit of... Truth. And she betrayed her mentor's trust by publishing lies. Owie.

Lies are a betrayal... BUT so often they feel like a necessary evil, a kindness. I hate spitting out the words that will disappoint, injure, confuse a person. At least that's what I tell myself. "It will be easier for __________ (insert the decieved's name here) if they just don't know." Little secret: It's my own comfort I'm protecting more often than not. And this is why I love my friends who are unabashedly honest - bulls in a china shop as my grandma would say. They show me how to tell the truth and WHY to tell the truth. I envy that courage & their energy to deal with life instead of redressing it. And I have a LOT of these friends. With reason.

I WILL outgrow the laziness of lying. All signs point me toward fearless honesty. And to get all Scarlett O'Hara... "With GOD is my witness, I will never go lying again!" Mmmm. This sounds like a bullshiz political campaign speech. Haha. Yeah, I'm trying to get all my selves to vote for my-self or something. Guess we'll see how the election goes...

And now I will write an essay. (Maybe.)

Paging Raymond Carver

Did you hear about the 6 year-old Colorado boy who got into a balloon-craft tethered in his parents backyard and flew away? The craft (capable of flying 10,000 feet in the air) was empty when it landed. Now doesn't that just make you sick, and vow never to keep an air balloon tethered in your backyard? Seriously. I couldn't make this stuff up. But I'd like to see it written into a short story. Right?

Sources Who Lie

Things made me laugh today. Like when I was listening to the Book that Changed My Life segment of This American Life on my new old iPod (see blog entry "Cue Wind in Her Hair") while riding the 92 bus to Eastern Market. It was a people-packed bus, as the rain was kicking us all off the streets. But I couldn't help giggling at the stories. Also, when I was electric-toothbrushing my teeth tonight, I did that just-closing-my-eyes-for-a-second chin-drop thing that happens before falling asleep standing up. It almost happened. Do you fall if it happens? Or do your joints lock in place? And, again I laughed, when Justin texts me "If someone asks if you're ticklish, tell them you have been having diarrhea lately but yes, you're ticklish." Heehee. Jr High pastors...

I sighed sadly today when I learned my family's power has been out for 36 hours and all their chilled food has spoiled. What waste. I cried on the metro when I listened to the Frenemies segment on This American Life. I was frustrated when I read an email from Pandora stating that I would now only be allowed to listen to 40 hours of free music each month. Not enough.

I felt great despair when I read Margaret Mead's account of adolescent girls in Samoa, and even more when I read a critique of it claiming her adolescent female sources had been teasing her and the stories she documented had no credibility. It's this sneaking sense that the world is too complicated to make sense of it, and I unfortunately feel the need to have an intimate understanding of the system I am operating in to feel any confidence in... making a move. So life ends up feeling a bit like a game of chess, in which I don't know the rules of the gamepieces nor the actual objective of the game and my opponent is omniscient. I felt a similar sense of unease when I watched Lions for Lambs tonight, the Robert Redford movie. Though I smiled at Meryl Streep's stunning performance (par for her course).

For a minute, a couple years ago, I had gotten my bearings long enough to decide I should (and wanted to) a) move to Washington, DC and b) pursue a career in International Education, whatever that would mean. Now I have little faith in either of those desired ends. And I am faced with how burdensome Options are to a person like myself. I see flaws in any course of action, and would be more content to sit back and deliberate on the options than actually move forward. And when I do move forward, I end up mid-stride feeling foolish and wishing to draw back my leg. My queen piece.

I want life to be a game I'm good at. But strategy eludes me. Why?

I give up. I can't solve the mysteries of the universe tonight, and Sufjan Stevens keeps singing "Even if I died alone..." and it's making my eyelids heavy. There is a day waiting on the other side and I want to be ready for it. And, God knows, right now I don't feel ready.

Cue Wind in Her Hair

For years, I've failed to be in the possession of all 3 components of the iPod lifestyle at the SAME time (earbuds, pod, charger). I would find the charger but have misplaced the pod. I'd buy new headphones and by then lost track of the charger. I always had one or two pieces of the puzzle but never all three.

Now I have all three.

I walked to Ebenezer's coffee shop today listening to Dashboard Confessional and Amy Grant. Homesick songs. I felt like I was in a music video glorifying autumn. I had forgotten what it feels like to stroll along the sidewalk and feel all MTV-ish. I'm back in the music.

Thank You India

I have a friend, who - every time, without fail - gets me to cry when we finally connect via phone date. This is every few months. Ingrid Joy. She somehow strips bare my soul and I become completely spontaneously vulnerable in a matter of minutes... well, hours really. The gnawing fears/hurts/hopes I ignore sheepishly reveal themselves when she gets me talking. And she picks up on the subtext like few people I've met. She gets to the footnotes that are usually left out of conversations. But real understanding requires footnotes. And history. She knows my history. And reminds me of it wAy more than I care to do myself. She's a diary I can return to, to figure out why I feel the way I do now BASED on what I did and thought back then. Though she's a photographer, I see her being a therapist one day. In her 50's maybe. I am so content right now, so grateful, for having shared a real encounter with another human being. There is nothing better. Thank you, if you are reading this and have given me that gift at one time or another - maybe many times and another. I am so grateful for it. And tonight, thank-you Ingrid Joy.

New Installation

Complaint: I spent 3 hours today fiddling with software and am still not fully functioning in MS Office. Why am I techno-cursed!?

Celebration: I got the new Product Key for free, because of my sob story about an absentminded brother who lost our CD case. The lady had mercy on me, and told him I shouldn't give him a Christmas present. She's wrong, though. I wouldn't have even HAD the disk if he and Kasey hadn't sent it to me. So, alls well that ends well. Now I want it to END! Install disk, install!!!

soul angst wah wah

i feel like i am swimming through a layer of moss on the top of a murky pond. i just want to get out, take a shower and put on a t-shirt and sweats, go to borders and meet some friends over coffee and magazines and nothing much.

that is the state of my soul right now.

living in the projects

I like personal development projects. Sometimes I think I would never have "developed" as much as I have so far, if I hadn't thought of games and competitions to trick myself into "growing." A few favorite memories come to mind:

1. I gained a number of new and strange experiences in college when I became "The Dollar Dare Girl." Nothing naughty. Just like peeing my pants in the middle of the street, eating dog food and strange concoctions made at Denny's after midnight, drinking the juice of brussel sprouts, licking a little boy's shoe, climbing things, etc. I made a good deal of cash, too! I probably looked like a stripper, my pockets full of one dollar bills, but no.

2. A poetry game with my friend Matt Miller. We decided it was too tempting to poeticize only about melancholy things, even though there is in fact more beauty in "the good." It's just too easy to seem trite or sappy about "the good" and feel all profound and original when in the depths of despair. So we would send each other three images a week and the other person would have to write a not-morbid poem inspired by each image. It was a thrilling experiment, and I think I grew a lot as a writer.

3. When feeling really poor, my college roommate Jessica and our friend Tyler and I decided to stop spending money on anything other than necessities. Food was not considered a necessity, since we all had cafeteria meal plans. It was extremely challenging, and I declare that stretching the thrift muscles can be quite fun when done in community. It leads to... shall we say creativity? I concluded the only thing I needed to buy was kleenex. Everything else I could find for free some way or another.

4. My brother Eames and I have challenged each other a couple of times to Healthy Eating. This reaquired strict guidelines and serious consequences for deviation. It was a fun bonding experience, and we were very successful in establishing good habits.

5. At Agape Villages Foster Family Agency, where I worked a couple years ago, the whole office staff started healthy living experiments. It was so fun to encourage each other in our different goals. One did Weight Watchers, another Nutrisystem, and all of us became more active in our daily lives. When I quit working there, everyone literally looked DIFFERENT! It was crazy. The power of peer encouragement is mind-blowing.

6. I have had the privilege of sharing a room with many amazing ladies. Chrissy (in Sacramento), Jessica (Sophomore Year in College), and Sarah (Senior Year) were roommates who joined me in praying before bed every night. It was such a relationship-building experiment, and was way more effective at ensuring I turned my heart to God each day than flying solo.

7. TC JAMES started as a group of strangers who challenged each other to meet every Friday afternoon and pray for the world. My heart was with the struggles of Other Peoples, but this community grounded my ambiguous feelings of compassion. And some of my best friendships were born of the experience.

8. Moving into a low-income apartment complex in Sacramento with a group of eight 20-something suburbanites was an effort in learning to care for the marginalized people in our city. It wasn't enough to drive out there and tutor the kids once a week. For me, they needed to become my neighbors who I saw everyday. The tutoring program needed to be next door, not across town. And this shift did help me reorient. But it taught me about my spiritual immaturity more than anything else. And again... I made deep and life-changing friendships. This seems to be a pattern. Maybe the reason I love a project.

Now a new "game" is beginning. It's called Project Fruit. An anonymous friend and I had mutually realized how little our lives reflected "The Fruit" that the Bible describes as being representative of life "in the Spirit." Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Eek. So our process is to look at one piece of fruit each week, read about it, and seek to fertilize its growth in our day-to-day. I expect good things. And... I AM a bit nervous. My life needs to change. But. Change. Is. Hard. Cheers to a a little game to put the fire under my ars.

fingernails on a laptop

After typing all night, I don't recognize my own hands. They look so small. I cut all my nails off yesterday, and rubbed them with one of those magic buffers that makes the nails look slick and shiny. The at-home mani looks nice (?) but is so disorienting. I'm used to scraggly, dirty fingertips. Not these pretty & magical, terribly productive six-inch extensions of my brain. Too much sugar makin me crazycrazy? Mabes.

Home Improvement

My bedroom is finally fully decorated. My first fully decorated adult bedroom. And I love it with all my heart. It took 9 months to get it the way I want it, accumulate cheap but quirky-lovely decor, and actually put it where it goes. How would I survive without roommate?

to get to the center of a tootsie pop

Strategies For Getting this Paper Writ:

1. Drink 1/2 a cup of coffee, whitened by those little flavored creamer cups

2. Eat 18 almonds for brainpower

3. Assemble all books and open all online journal docs

4. Pound a bag of Reeses Pieces

5. Write a paragraph

6. Promise yourself you can paint a picture if you finish this essay tonight

7. Move from the table to the couch and write another paragraph

8. Refer to the outline you wrote last week

9. Stretch and roll your neck

10. Write another paragraph. Then another. Another. Another. Again. Again.

And time to celebrate! God bless RefWorks, Sugar, and Acrylic Paints!

(Steps 8-10 are fictional and not based on actual events or persons.)

I don't wanna be anyone's backpack

Naming the Noon-Day Demon

"What the Church later defined as sin, the desert monks termed bad thoughts, which to me is a much more helpful designation. Given the church's history of emphasis on sins of the flesh, contemporary readers may find it odd that the early monks regarded lust as one of the lesser temptations. They identified it as a form of greed, the desire to possess another person inappropriately in pursuit of one's own satisfaction. Anger, pride, and acedia were considered the worst of the "thoughts," with accedia the most harmful of all, for it could inflict a complete loss of hope and capacity for trust in God."

-from Acedia and Me

* acedia = something like a sense of universal futility, despair, boredom, restlessness, hatred for place, and the inability to care about anything or anyone.

This is a fascinating book. I'm learning more about an ambiguous affliction I've seen creep up in myself and loved ones. It's scary, ugly, but has a name. I'm happy to know it, now.

Quote of the Night

"You and Gene Wilder are the ones who encourage me to be really myself."

-My friend Justin

Buddy Jesus

Just try and convince me this Jesus sculpture I spotted @ the National Cathedral doesn't look like the perfect incarnation of Buddy Jesus! He's holding up a peace sign & a basketball (no that isn't the world, people) for Christ's sake (;P). I had the hardest time stifling my giggles when I came across this.

The other sculptures were much more gripping. The creation story above, for example. My mom and I saw the sculptor's work at a little gallery in Sauselito this summer. I'd been excited to visit the National Cathedral and experience his masterpiece ever since. I was happy to find a darling garden to walk around in, and the feeling that I was on a European backpacking adventure when peering up at the buttresses and down from the tower.

And when would I have ever worked it into my schedule to visit this breathtaking place, if it weren't for my visiting friend Jackie's desire to take it in. It pays to have a couch bed when living in a tourist destination. Come one, come all! Take me on YOUR vacation... in MY own backyard!

If I Still Facebooked...

... my status would be "Sharing a lively Riesling with CousinRoomie at Sova Wine Bar, Cat Power playing in the background, as I write a research proposal on Elementary School Internationalization."

If.

Instead I will just smile at my happy setting and share its description into the void.

Recipe for Oomph

I have started listening to The Jurassic Park Theme Song station of Pandora in order to motivate me to pursue my destiny, stir my "Inner Resources", and restore my sense of purpose in life. The station plays theme scores from movies like like Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Independence Day, and Superman. I find it impossible to listen to such climactic music and not feel excited. About life. About the itty bitty "Hero's Journey" I face every day. And lately... I need the extra oomph. These research papers are killing me! (Though remain compelling at the same time. Is it possible to be fascinated and bored at the same time? I think I just need more dancing in my life to break up the monotony. If only in internal organs would heal and go about their business. In the meantime I will listen to the music of the brilliant John Williams.) Mmmm... Lord of the Rings! It's like caffeine for my soul. My version of the Psalms about waking up one's weary soul. Well the alarm is ringing! And it rings so sweetly!

I'm My Own Grandpa

I'm My Own Grandpa
Guy Lombardo

Now many many years ago when I was twenty-three
I was married to a widow who was pretty as can be
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red
My father fell in love with her and soon they too were wed

Oh I'm my own grandpa
I'm my own granpa
It sounds funny I know,
But it really is so
Oh I'm my own grandpa

This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life
My daughter was my mother 'cause she was my father's wife
To complicate the matter even though it brought me joy
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy

My little baby then became a brother-in-law to Dad
And so became my uncle, though it made me very sad
For if he was my uncle, then that also made him br'ther
Of the widow's grown-up daughter who was also my stepmother

Father's wife then had a son who kept them on the run
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son
My wife is now my mother's mother and it makes me blue
Because altho' she is my wife, she's my grandmother too

Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I'm her grandchild
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild
For now I have become the strangest case I ever saw
As husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa