an image bearer

tonight on the orange line, riding home from a potluck for international students, i watched a woman wearing a beanie with stones and crystals sown onto it twirl a chain with a pendant at the bottom around and around (like a tire swing from a tree branch) while her other hand fingered a rosary.

the kolar rose up in me and chortled. the sixteen year-old boy in me welcomed a mental onslaught of punch-lines. the mean girl in me felt smug in the presence of the ridiculous weird smelly chick on my train.

damn, i hate those parts of me. i rallied and shooed them away, and watched the woman twirl her chain for about ten minutes. she seemed to be administering a very important mystical ritual on the train car. or on herself. and she was reciting something i couldn't hear. the superior satire i'd been conjuring earlier faded into a surreal kind of respect for this enchantress with the rocks all over her head. she exuded the kind of faith (in something) that moves a person to ignore all pretense & call on whatever odd spirits had won her trust. i mean, if i were a spirit i would want someone like her on my team - someone who was more afraid of me than of appearances.

she was kind when i complemented her hat on my way off the train. "yes, i beaded it myself." respecting her felt a load better than diminishing her. she bears the image of God in some way, and i hate that it takes me fourteen steps before i remember it's my job to honor that.

a vision

tonight on the orange line, riding home from a potluck for international students, i watched a woman wearing a beanie with stones and crystals sown onto it twirl a chain with a pendant at the bottom around and around (like a tire swing from a tree branch) while her other hand fingered a rosary.

or

tonight (on the orange line) (riding home from a potluck for international students) i watched a woman (wearing a beanie with stones and crystals sown onto it) twirl a chain (with a pendant at the bottom) around and around (like a tire swing from a tree branch) while her other hand fingered a rosary.

or

tonight i watched a woman twirl a chain around and around while her other hand fingered a rosary.

Letter to Myself

Self:

Thank you for the vacation today. The tuna melt. The fun curly hairdo. The two cups of white mocha coffee. The fantastic episode of Grey's Anatomy. The calm & aloneness. Thank you for washing all your own dishes. For having bought that sweater that feels like a hug so I could wear it today. Thank you for opening your mind to a research topic, so the skies could send one down. For getting things done even though you don't feel like much was accomplished. Thank you for being patient with me, and letting it go. Thank you for being willing to go socialize tonight, and having a good attitude. Thank you for starting now, and leaving the rest behind.

:Tasha

Prop 8 + Christopher Guest

Is there anything better than supper?

Today was full of grace. Rise'n'Shine time came a little late, and sometimes that poisons my morning with guilt. But today, ease was with me. Much thanks a spinach and cheddar waffle (try it!), and much thanks to a conversation w/ Mallie about possibly creating a documentary together for our class projects (my Citizenship in a Global Era class and her Documentary Filmmaking course). It could be a dynamic twist of fate, or just an idea for the future. Earlier this week, my professor totally blew my mind when she explained that the Research Paper component was... merely a suggestion. We could create a blog, a curriculum unit, a documentary, a _______, a, a, a__________. Whatever is most relevant to our career goals. Amazing. I'm super torn between a dozen sparkling possibilities, but want to settle on something that will be useful - and not just A+ worthy. I'm over teacher-praise (though it is very tasty icing on the cake of learning, to be sure). I want my creative work to be meaningful in the real world.

Later, I stopped by to visit a former student who isn't quite taking to 3rd grade. Love her. Met her new best friend. Shared her cheeze puffs.

I continued on to GWU, and seamlessly checked off a list of errands that I've been meaning to accomplish. Blah blah blah. For lunch, I ate a turkey sandwich at the glorious GW Deli (to prove I still can), and a lovely Vinyasa yoga class ended my peacefully constructive day on GWU campus.

But that's not all. Halfway through my walk home, the snow flurries began. Just light enough to tickle and glisten in the air under the streetlights. I was cold for sure, but an inspiring podcast was playing through my earbuds, and my limbs were so loose from yoga, I couldn't be anything other than blissfully happy. I love this city, and I love having a home. I love tomorrow already.

I Get Knocked Down, But I Get Up Again

Refracted light,
Chastised child.
"Knock you silly to a senseless
Pile."

Bob my head dead down and up,
Along with the
Song of full circle,
Hurry,

A taste like home, oh tangerines.
And
Laughter peals,
"Not scared or stiff"
Now laughter steals the torch.

Reading Notes

is the concept of dollar votes strange to anyone else? reading EatPrayLove has renewed my passion for linguistics. so much we can learn about a culture by the words they live by. dollar votes? i get it, and don't disagree with the importance of buying responsibly. but that is The path to active citizenship in the United States now? consumerism. thank you post-9/11 G. Dubb? shopping mall revolutionaries, that's what we are now. is that enough?

-strange

in my youth, i sometimes sang alanis morisette songs as worship to god. i have now taken to following along with ingrid michaelson in making a joyful noise unto the lord. strange, maybe, but my heart is-

A Sorta Fairytale

I haven't seen Bruce, a pal from my high school art & algebra classes, in ten years. His 3-day weekend visit to Capital Hill from the coast of Virginia is an appetizer for our ten-year high school reunion, looming in June. It is also a reminder of why I love residing in this city. I've been vacationing vicariously through Bruce, seeing new sites (The Hirshorn Sculpture Museum), and introducing him to my haunts (Eastern Market, U St., St. Brendans). Hosting a house guest is cheaper than going away for the weekend, and it forces me to stretch my narrow range of motion in this glorious city.

In fact, we attempted to attend one of the free daily concerts at the Kennedy Center's Millenium Stage - which I have been wanting to do for over a year - but... my dyslexia & lack of a smart phone screwed us. Code for: We Got Lost. We settled for Tapas & Beer before a thrilling GWU ping pong tournament (a great perk of grad school is the house parties - such interesting & entertaining people). I'm so exhausted now, after a long day of exploring. But, lucky me, Bruce is cooking dinner. The smell of garlic is filling my apartment. Grrrrowl...

Metapiphanies?

Today I am reminded that a profound awareness of God's love for oneself is often paired with a deep recognition of Satan's hatred for that Love. Both truths are infinitely empowering. And also slightly scary.

“Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.” -Milton.

I've always thought epiphanies are grand. But I recently had the epiphany that an epiphany can be a lie. An incredibly seductive lie. A beautiful sparkling lie that suddenly makes sense of all the confusion. And that epiphany should be slapped in the face and sent back where it came from. Holy chaos is better than deceptive order.

Do You Crossfit?

i've been a veg-head for 5 days now, and let me tell you. that is a lot. i haven't even oops'ed. like, oops! i just ate a corn-dog! not that i know of at least. it's forcing me to be more creative about what i eat, and to exert self-control.

i am loving tuna melts. (no. fish is not meat, jessie. it's Fish.) i'm into falafel. i hate omelettes as always, but plan to find a recipe that doesn't make me sick. ooooaaaatttttmeal... how i need you. you are so meaningful. you and the banana.

jessie and i hit Sticky Rice on H st. tonight and i was tempted to make the following caveat: vegetarian EXcept when at a chinese restaurant or burger joint. because i don't like chinese veg dishes. BUT she convinced me to stay true, like herself, and share a coconut peanut tofu buckwheat noodle vegetable dish. holler! love it. it's called the dirty vegan. which somehow made it taste even better.

i like discipline. even when it's just self-imposed. it makes me feel fitter in my soul.

please outlive me?

this morning i dreamed someone-i-love-dearly died, and his death was a teency bit my fault. it was the second worst dream i've ever had (the first being a family plot to murder my father... it failed and he was very angry.). in this dream i felt my life was over. and when i talked on the phone to this person later in the day, i was so happy. too happy. too idyllic. because when i got off the phone i thought, i should love this person less so when he dies i wont be as destroyed as i was in the dream. i don't want to survive the people i love.

when i was little, i would cry myself to sleep at night when my mom worked the swing shift at the hospital because i knew. tonight. would. be. the. night her car crashed and she died. how morbid. but my fear of people dying has abated only a bit. i still cry over deaths that haven't happened yet, and may not happen for many decades. because they will. eventually. happen. and i can't process that reality. i could for a minute, in my late teens and early twenties. but i failed to nail down that butterfly of insight.

maybe i'll find it again. and if i do, i will kill it and pin its body in a glass box to refer to whenever i am troubled.

Oh Emily Post, Whereforeart Thou?

If I responded to an email from a potential employer, and called him say Henry instead of Mr. Geong... and then he never followed up on the interview he himself requested... does that mean he was offended by my lack of deference and has crossed me off his list of hireable applicants? Eek. I am so embarrassed.

I got a feeling

Wow. God is good. I logged on WebRegistration to drop a class and incur an $80 late fee, and... THE CLASS HAD BEEN CANCELLED! No one told me, which sucks. But I didn't have to pay a late fee, either, which rocks!

I am full of gratitude. I could really use that $80 to... eat for a week! And I love to eat, so, yeah.

Gratitude is a good feeling.

"Skewed China birth rate to leave 24,000,000 men single"

Already ladies, who's ready to buy a plane ticket? C'mon, it'll be fun!

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20100111/hl_afp/chinapopulationmenmarriage

brandi carlisle gonna make you

Back to only checking Facebook via email. It prevents me from meandering down rabbit holes of intrigue. Then I log on to write communicators back & initiate communication when necessary. Then logoff. Done.

Can't bring myself to listen to podcasts while extensively housecleaning. My brain: in revolt against thinking/processing. Music: my peaceful refuge from information.

Started a new blog. A brief blog. I dislike New Year's resolutions, so I decided to do 52 New Week's resolutions instead. Smaller and more manageable. And I don't have to keep them for longer than a week, but can if I choose to. It's like going shopping for disciplines. My first attempt is washing my dishes every night (which I do for the most part, but want to do it all the time). I'm back washing today. 17 tupperwares full of leftovers. Ick. Never eating chicken & barley soup again.

This blog feels like the vlog on Avatar right now. Signing off to take out more garbage now.

DreamLover Come Rescue Me

Sleep marathons are awesome. In one night I skydived, made out with my MFAD ("man from a distance" crush), and uncovered a conspiracy which led me to adopt/steal a child/wild thing form an slave-labor factory. (You see, Wal Mart was getting their milk to sell cheap from a factory full of wild things, yknow from the movie - but they were real not cartoon. I took a public tour of the factory and was horrified, because the wild things were people really, yknow? so when one of the child wild things begged me to help her escape, i convinced my mom- who was also on the tour- to collude. and just as we were about to bust out, my alarm went off. now that's a cliffhanger if i ever dreamt one!)

Who can say they did all THAT in a day? Well, I did it all in a NIGHT, so there.

Sucking Cockroaches

What do you do when you come home from a vacation? This is my To-Do-List:

0. Shower and nap
1. Take out the two bags of rank garbage you left in the kitchen for 3 weeks
2. Suck 30+ cockroaches up (live and dead alike) with your roommate's heavy duty Craftsman 3.0 Wet-Dry Vacuum hose
3. Clean out the 17 tupperwares of leftovers rotting in the fridge
4. Grocery shop for produce & dairy (no meat, because your steak-heavy vacation menu inspired you to become a vegetarian)
5. Scrub the layers of grime off your bathroom's sink and tub
6. Make a chalky To-Do checklist on the blackboard in your room (better late than never)
7. Empty out your overflowing mailbox in the apt. complex lobby, smiling at neighbors in the elevator
8. Change your sheets because you have spiderbites from napping in them
9. Take some pain meds for the anger in your right shoulder (from hiking in Yosemite? dragging bags all over the airports? housecleaning? all of the above?)
10. Want wine, make eyes at wine, but respect your liver and end the flirtation and go to sleep in clean sheets

Oh what a day. I am gloriously happy to be back, self-contained in this apartment. I am me again.

Keep Your Seatbelt Fastened While In Your Seat

My first in-flight blogging session, and I have nothing profound to say. All I can think about is not puking again. Infomercials are on every TV-station, I cant read the book I paid $17 for at an over-priced airport Books'n'Snacks shop (because Eat Pray Love --> Nausea Gag Wretch), and everbody on both sides of the country is too asleep to facebook chat with me. I hate right now. But not a lot. Just [ this ] much. There is a weird movie on Comedy Central (ok, so not ONLY informercials are playing) with the Doogie-Howsery guy from Glee, Tobias Funke from Arrested, the actress who looks like the red-head actress from Clueless but isn't (I think she was Steve's girlfriend on the old 90210 for a minute), and Anna Faris as a brunette (which is weird). And I'm too frazzled to actually try to watch it, but am glancing up from time to time to watch Anna Faris antics which never cease to amuse me. She is a funny girl. And this cast is curious. On another note, I have noticed that I never ever ever spell from correctly. I always spell it form. This annoys the hellouttame. I do everything in my life based on muscle memory, so when one of my muscles remembers a lie, it completely ruins my sense of order and well-being. It's like when I accidentally put soap on my toothbrush or pump 5x the shampoo I need or got off at the wrong Metro stop or think too hard to play the Moonlight Sonata by instinct. These occurrences makes me feel like I am about to go extinct. If I can't do most everything by muscle memory, life as I know it will cease to be possible. Typing Form instead of From is particularly bad because I do it every time. I have no hope for reform, either. That's how I feel about the matter.

I just read Seymour: An Introduction by J.D. Salinger and I liked it. (No I'm not shouting out to Katy Perry.) I liked it because I loved Franny & Zooey with all of my heart, and both novellas are centered on The Glass Family of 8 (?). (I acknowledge the fact that i'm capitalizing arbitrarily, but I feel to nauseated to care.) Most of Seymore: An Intro is told in parentheses (which may be why I am using a lot of them tonight/this morning). The narrator was entirely too self-aware to be described as anything other than self-aware. His purpose was to describe his brother S, who had committed suicide 10 years prior. (There is a lot of near-pornographic commercial time on Comedy Central at 3am. Girls Gone Wild adverts & such. It's kind of ewey.) My worst fear is that someone in my family (or someone I adore) will committ suicide. I have several theories about why this fear plagues me, not the least of which is that my great-grandfather (great uncle?) did just that. I won't go into the others (just imagine I typed them all out and then erased them all) because they typecast me as extremely neurotic. Which I'm not exactly. But I am hungry. Nutrigrain bars are all I brought, so let it be. Which is the definition of Amen. "So let it be." I like that. I always wondered what Amen meant.

I almost fell down an escalator tonight at the airport. Form the (from the) top to the bottom. I was talking on my cell phone to my Nicoracle and dragging a bag and wearing a backpack and failed to grab the railing. I felt all nervous to be riding without a firm grip on the rail, so I tried to get off, but it had already started moving down, so I dropped my bag and tumbled up to the top. Barely. A hush fell over the travelers sitting in chairs around this escalator. I laughed hysterically on the phone to Nicole and relayed the details (mainly to keep myself from having a panic attack, because I know I said I'm terrified of suicides but I'm nearly as scared of tumbling down escalators ((I am uniquely uncoordinated on steps of any kind)), but also to calm down my audience, most of whom probably soon texted at least one person, "I watched some girl ALMOST fall down an escalator tonight! It was so freaky."). If I had fallen, I would have died. No doubt. Neck broke, brain jellied, dead. But I lived. It might be a while before le prochaine fois j'approche un escalier. Oh no, I'm falling into bad French. That means I'm sleepier than I thought. 45 more minutes. Time for a snack a nap and a snap (because snack + nap = snap of course).

Red-eye flights are over-rated. I've never felt less human. Eat it Virgin America.

Wilted Lettuce

After ordering belated Christmas cards @ Costco and sitting in the car on a Wachovia+Wells Fargo conference call... I thought I was going to die. My body felt like it was full of termites, eating away at its integrity. And then I realized. It was 2pm and I had not had a SIP of water all day. Aha! My suspicion was correct: Dehydration is indeed the root of all evil. Three glasses later, I am chipper and only mildly depressed. God bless the sea.

Layer Cake

The only way I can convince myself to pay $30 to get my hair cut is if I try and fail to do it myself first. Like, oh no, you can't go any where looking that choppy - you HAVE to see a professional to fix this mess. That's why I trimmed my fringe tonight, I guess. To subconsciously bully myself into an expensive chair, into the hands of someone who can make me beautifuler. And absolve me from the guilt of paying for "beautification" when I really can't afford it right now. If I knew how expensive these $10 shears would end up being in the long run, I would have... Well, I still would have bought them. Let's be honest.

"Masochist"

by Ingrid M

She says you're a masochist for falling for me,
So roll up your sleeves.
And I think that I like her, 'cuz she tells me things I don't want to hear,
Medicinal tongue in my ear.

When will it stop? When will it stop?

When will I feel all soft on the inside?
When will I feel all soft on the inside?
When will I feel soft, soft?

You say that my skin feels like no one else's,
That it's different somehow.
But I don't understand, isn't a hand just a hand?
No you don't understand.

When will it start? My broken part?

When will I feel all soft on the inside?
When will I feel all soft on the inside?
When will I feel soft, soft?

She says you're a masochist for falling for me.

Huh?

Sometimes it feels like trying to be excited for people getting married or buying a house or having a baby is like... being excited for an alien to houd a frulringter rumbelrsand.

“Water is the only drink for a wise man”

~Henry David Thoreau~

Tonight, after seeing It's Complicated with my mom (who actually announced "this movie is too grown-up for you"), I got a headache. Last week, my grandmother spiked a 100.8 fever after spending the day at Costco. Yesterday, after gardening & playing tennis (sweeping all three of my competitors 40-Love), my muscles became sore.

What do these three incidents have in common?

I automatically concluded that dehydration must be the culprit. Tonight, while driving home from the theater (and not listening to the radio because I had a headache), it became clear that I actually believe all ailments are caused by dehydration. Which is slightly ridiculous. I mean, if I had a heart attack, I would probably fall down and count how many glasses of water I had drunk that day.

Water is this magic potion, in my mind. It keeps your insides clean and spotless, and your skin beautiful, and your mind sharp. Without it, you die. And, in hindsight, I know the problems I blame on dehydration are often ludicrous... Arguments, running into walls, poor handwriting, a cold. But maybe not. Maybe it really is magic. Water. Like an earthy version of the communion wine that turns into Jesus blood when you drink it.

Earthly things seem so common by now, it's particularly exciting to mystify them. When I was driving through "the woods" tonight, I imagined I was Gretel, walking with Hansel and happening upon a witch's candy house. When I was driving along the cliffs of Palos Verdes, last week, I imagined the ocean and nearby islands were in fact filled with the mermaid kingdom I was so obsessed with as a child.

I think my fascination with the mermaid world was a pre-cursor for my interest in international cultures & people group. Before I had met Asian and African people, sea people were The Other. And their environment is filled with the magic potion I so revere: H20. I had countless dreams about visiting the oceanic community & learning to belong. A friendly mermaid would coax me through the bathtub drain, or the grate at the bottom of my pool. Or mermaids would wake me in my sleep and invite me to trade my legs for a fish tail. By the time I was 12, I had scoured the library's card catalog and read every Young Adult book ever written featuring mermaids.

At some point I left that ambition behind to face more realistic cross-cultural opportunities. And now I have been hired to work at the International Student Services Office at George Washington University, which is along those lines. Mermaids / International Students -- same difference, right? I am beyond excited about this job. I will be planning field trips around DC, fun events, orientation. I wept when I got the Job Offer email, totally freaking out my mom. I wanted the position so badly-- had all my buttons in this basket. Didn't apply for anything else. I still can't believe it. Oh la.

Oh

Oh

Oh

This dehydrated head of mine aches and begs me to close my eyes.

Yes, head, I think I will. Here's hoping my first 2010 dreams will involve an underwater opera, a handsome merman, and a seaweed feast. That would be unreal.