I'm a fan of the GooGoo Dolls and did not realize that they had a new CD out... I borrowed it from my friend, and the last song on it has got a hold on me. It's fantastic.
Become
There's so much more about you that you never let them see
You turn away
But not to me
And I know how they tried to take you
Held you up and meant to break you down
But you can't be
For so long I tried to reach you
I know I'm almost there
I'm close enough for you to see
You've been hiding in the shadows
Have you forgotten how we used to dream?
Let me remind you
The light doesn't blind you at all
It just helps you see
Can you see?
Yeah, you have become -
Yeah, you have become beautiful
And I can't be the stranger
That's been sleeping in your bed just
turn around and come to me
I feel all the pain inside
And everything you denied you feel
It's all you feel
You've been hiding in the shadows
Have you forgotten how we used to dream?
Let me remind you
The light doesn't blind you at all
It just helps you see
Can you see?
Yeah, you have become -
Yeah, you have become beautiful
Yeah you have become-
yeah you have become beautiful
Brush back your hair and look around you
Feeling like the truth has found you here
You're here with me
Let love become the mirror
With no fear where you're from
You have become beautiful
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
Ms. Fiona and the Wig
So I was messing with my profile thing, and selected a random question... It asked me to tell a story about a bald frog with a wig. This is what I came up with, and then it had the nerve to tell me my story had to be less than 150 characters. Hogwash.
There once was a frog who owned a wig- her name was Ms. Fiona. Her wig was the talk of the bog, styled in such a way that was reminescent of a 20's flapper-doo. It suited Ms. Fiona quite well.
One day, as Ms. Fiona was swimming to visit some family far down stream, she came across a salamander whose foot was caught under a rock. Now, Ms. Fiona was a good hearted frog and so she stopped to help the salamander free from the rock. She then assisted him to the shore and began talking with him.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
"Just a little scuffed and sore," he answered in a gruff voice, "But not a lick broken."
"Oh, that's so good to hear. My name is Fiona."
The salamander, occupied with wiggling his toes, answered, "Name's Solomon. Nice to meet you. Now, if you don't mind I-"
Solomon stopped short as his gaze came to greet Ms. Fiona's. He tilted his head and looked quizzical.
"...What is it?" She asked, confused about his expression.
"Uh.." Solomon sat up, "What's with that?"
"What?"
"That." He pointed to her wig.
"Oh! .. Well, it's my wig."
There was a moment of silence. "A wig."
"Yes...?" Ms. Fiona's heart fluttered and she reached a hand up on top of her head. Did it get messed up? Was there something wrong?
Solomon folded his stubby arms across his chest, "Now what do you suppose you need a wig for?"
Ms. Fiona stammered, "I.. well.. I, uh.." She sighed and looked to the ground. "Well, I'm bald."
There was a moment of silence as the salamander stared at her. Suddenly, he chortled.
The poor frog couldn't believe it! "Stop that, what are you laughing for??" She could feel her cheeks become hot with embarassment.
Solomon covered his mouth, but couldn't stop chuckling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"No, it's not funny. It's very embarassing!" She started to get up to leave, "I help you and then you do this to me!"
Solomon jumped up, "No, no. Don't go. Hey, Ms. Fiona!"
She stopped, almost in the water.
"Hey, I'm sorry, really. But, where you come from, does anyone else wear a wig?"
Ms. Fiona turned and gave him a nasty look, "What do you mean?"
Solomon winced at the look and answered, "Well, think about it. I mean, I've never been up the river. Does anyone else where a wig up that way?"
"Of course the-" the frog stopped. Wait, did anyone really wear a wig? "Well..."
"Well?"
"..." Ms. Fiona hesitated. "Come to think of it, no one else does..."
"No one else does?"
"No."
A smile creeped across Solomon's face, "So... is everyone else bald?"
Ms. Fiona was silent for a fe moments. Solomon pointed to his own head: slick and shiney with mucous, and without a strand of hair. Ms. Fiona looked up as if in thought about the wig.
"Now I'm no frog," Solomon began, "but if I were, I could say that you're pretty enough on your own without that silly wig."
And you know, from that day on, Ms. Fiona realized she didn't need a wig after all.
There once was a frog who owned a wig- her name was Ms. Fiona. Her wig was the talk of the bog, styled in such a way that was reminescent of a 20's flapper-doo. It suited Ms. Fiona quite well.
One day, as Ms. Fiona was swimming to visit some family far down stream, she came across a salamander whose foot was caught under a rock. Now, Ms. Fiona was a good hearted frog and so she stopped to help the salamander free from the rock. She then assisted him to the shore and began talking with him.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
"Just a little scuffed and sore," he answered in a gruff voice, "But not a lick broken."
"Oh, that's so good to hear. My name is Fiona."
The salamander, occupied with wiggling his toes, answered, "Name's Solomon. Nice to meet you. Now, if you don't mind I-"
Solomon stopped short as his gaze came to greet Ms. Fiona's. He tilted his head and looked quizzical.
"...What is it?" She asked, confused about his expression.
"Uh.." Solomon sat up, "What's with that?"
"What?"
"That." He pointed to her wig.
"Oh! .. Well, it's my wig."
There was a moment of silence. "A wig."
"Yes...?" Ms. Fiona's heart fluttered and she reached a hand up on top of her head. Did it get messed up? Was there something wrong?
Solomon folded his stubby arms across his chest, "Now what do you suppose you need a wig for?"
Ms. Fiona stammered, "I.. well.. I, uh.." She sighed and looked to the ground. "Well, I'm bald."
There was a moment of silence as the salamander stared at her. Suddenly, he chortled.
The poor frog couldn't believe it! "Stop that, what are you laughing for??" She could feel her cheeks become hot with embarassment.
Solomon covered his mouth, but couldn't stop chuckling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"No, it's not funny. It's very embarassing!" She started to get up to leave, "I help you and then you do this to me!"
Solomon jumped up, "No, no. Don't go. Hey, Ms. Fiona!"
She stopped, almost in the water.
"Hey, I'm sorry, really. But, where you come from, does anyone else wear a wig?"
Ms. Fiona turned and gave him a nasty look, "What do you mean?"
Solomon winced at the look and answered, "Well, think about it. I mean, I've never been up the river. Does anyone else where a wig up that way?"
"Of course the-" the frog stopped. Wait, did anyone really wear a wig? "Well..."
"Well?"
"..." Ms. Fiona hesitated. "Come to think of it, no one else does..."
"No one else does?"
"No."
A smile creeped across Solomon's face, "So... is everyone else bald?"
Ms. Fiona was silent for a fe moments. Solomon pointed to his own head: slick and shiney with mucous, and without a strand of hair. Ms. Fiona looked up as if in thought about the wig.
"Now I'm no frog," Solomon began, "but if I were, I could say that you're pretty enough on your own without that silly wig."
And you know, from that day on, Ms. Fiona realized she didn't need a wig after all.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Human Behavior
Claiming Ignorance (Human Behavior) by MeDoes the world ever seem like a nightmare?
Some suffer but the other ones don’t care
What does it matter if it's going on elsewhere,
Like it doesn’t happen if it's not happening here
There's a girl with only a mother and her dad just won't seem to bother
No love so she finds a lover
Now she has a child who doesn’t have a father
Whoa O O I hope the Prince of peace is coming soon
Whoa O O Yeah I hope the Prince of peace is coming soon
Whoa O O We'll learn to make a plowshare from a gun
Cause we won't need them when the kingdom comes
When the Communists turn into the terrorists
But the axis came before the soviets
And before that came the confederates
We’ll always have a war to fight
You can count on this
With every cure there comes another sickness
The Earth dies with every bit of progress
We've gone deaf to the cries of oppressed
What we need is Jesus to redeem us
Whoa O O I hope the Prince of peace is coming soon
Whoa O O Yeah I hope the Prince of peace is coming soon
Whoa O O We'll learn to make a plowshare from a gun
Cause we won't need them when the kingdom comes
No we won't need them when the kingdom comes
Now the world doesn’t work cause we’ve broken it
And we need dope or Prozac just to cope with it
Now the beast speaks it's peace the congress
Plans to Propagate
Proposition 666
Hitler’s still alive in the knives of abortionists
And the news twist the truth like contortionists
And they wonder what happened to humanity
You say peace but were headed for calamity
Whoa O O I hope the Prince of peace is coming soon
Whoa O O I hope the Prince of peace is coming soon
Whoa O O We'll learn to make a plowshare from a gun
Cause we won't need them when the kingdom comes
We long for the day when we will see
the heavens and the earth as they should be
O.C. Supertones, Prince of Peace
While it's not necessarily characteristic of me to comment on the things going on in the world, I thought I would spit a little blurb about the recent goings on... Specifically, that of Israel and Lebanon. I decided to wander over to BBCnews.com - as I do on rare occassions - and I found a few articles about what's been happening, since I don't really watch TV. And I'd much rather hear the news from the Brits than Americans, anyway. I'm sure that Brit news is just as biased in some ways as our news can be biased. So I ended up checking nbcnews.com anyway.
Al-Qaeda 'to avenge Israel deeds.'
It's scary to think about what a "Crusade war" entails... I don't really know that much about the U.S. involvement in this fight, but if things go as history tells........ well, you know. With Al-Qaeda leaders all gung-ho about establishing their religion, it's scary to think about what the future is going to look like.
Then again, I wonder if I'll even pay attention. To quote the song, "Does the world ever seem like a nightmare? Some suffer but the other ones don’t care. What does it matter if it's going on elsewhere? Like it doesn’t happen if it's not happening here." In a lot of ways, the terrible things that go on in the world seem so distant, so far removed from my comfortable American living. I met a woman once who was from Israel and she told me that to live with bombs, rockets, and warfare was normal at home overseas. I was shocked. Normal? The conversation seemed like one of those things you only experience vicariously through the silver screen. I'm probably not the only one that experiences this weird state of being, either.
When I found out about Darfur and the fact that the genocide there had been going on for years, I felt kind of sick with myself. How in the world could I have been so oblivious? I thought back to that Supertones song above, and wanted to create an image that somehow related to my thoughts of, "It's not real if it's not happening here." Here is a relative term.. it could be the U.S. or it could be your very own backyard. It doesn't matter how far removed the devastation is- if it's not somewhere that's here, I think we as humans tend to fall into the mentality of "out of sight, out of mind."
What's worse is the fact that I roll around in my own ignorance by not watching the news. Blessed be those who have their fingers on the pulse of world suffering. Perhaps it's an excuse, but I think that if I were to do that myself all the time, my outlook on the world would be gravely darker even though I know in my heart of hearts that there are reasons for everything that happens in the world, despite the fact that I may never know what those reasons are. Ecclesiastes 3:1 & 8 - There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: ... a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. God is still good in the midst of a glitched world.
Though, I have to consider something... if even I, a woman given life that she doesn't deserve, feel like swooning when I watch too much of the news-- what then for those who do not have life? If my hope quivers in the face of worldly death, destruction, and mayhem-- what about those who do not have hope at all?
Micah 4:3
He will judge between many peoples
and will settle disputes for strong nations far and wide.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war anymore.
Can I help others to long to see that day? Perhaps we all secretly long for it, even the anarchists among us. The question, then, is thus: can I help them hope for the Prince of Peace? What the question really is, is "Will I?"
-Y
Al-Qaeda 'to avenge Israel deeds.'
It's scary to think about what a "Crusade war" entails... I don't really know that much about the U.S. involvement in this fight, but if things go as history tells........ well, you know. With Al-Qaeda leaders all gung-ho about establishing their religion, it's scary to think about what the future is going to look like.
Then again, I wonder if I'll even pay attention. To quote the song, "Does the world ever seem like a nightmare? Some suffer but the other ones don’t care. What does it matter if it's going on elsewhere? Like it doesn’t happen if it's not happening here." In a lot of ways, the terrible things that go on in the world seem so distant, so far removed from my comfortable American living. I met a woman once who was from Israel and she told me that to live with bombs, rockets, and warfare was normal at home overseas. I was shocked. Normal? The conversation seemed like one of those things you only experience vicariously through the silver screen. I'm probably not the only one that experiences this weird state of being, either.
When I found out about Darfur and the fact that the genocide there had been going on for years, I felt kind of sick with myself. How in the world could I have been so oblivious? I thought back to that Supertones song above, and wanted to create an image that somehow related to my thoughts of, "It's not real if it's not happening here." Here is a relative term.. it could be the U.S. or it could be your very own backyard. It doesn't matter how far removed the devastation is- if it's not somewhere that's here, I think we as humans tend to fall into the mentality of "out of sight, out of mind."
What's worse is the fact that I roll around in my own ignorance by not watching the news. Blessed be those who have their fingers on the pulse of world suffering. Perhaps it's an excuse, but I think that if I were to do that myself all the time, my outlook on the world would be gravely darker even though I know in my heart of hearts that there are reasons for everything that happens in the world, despite the fact that I may never know what those reasons are. Ecclesiastes 3:1 & 8 - There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: ... a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. God is still good in the midst of a glitched world.
Though, I have to consider something... if even I, a woman given life that she doesn't deserve, feel like swooning when I watch too much of the news-- what then for those who do not have life? If my hope quivers in the face of worldly death, destruction, and mayhem-- what about those who do not have hope at all?
Micah 4:3
He will judge between many peoples
and will settle disputes for strong nations far and wide.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war anymore.
Can I help others to long to see that day? Perhaps we all secretly long for it, even the anarchists among us. The question, then, is thus: can I help them hope for the Prince of Peace? What the question really is, is "Will I?"
-Y
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
When Art Kills
Heather was over last night and while I distaste everything that is AOL, it is handy in the news that comes up in that Welcome screen.
Inflatable art flies away: two women die.
You don't hear about this kind of thing every day. While the event is tragic, I can't help but tilt my head and go, "Wha? Are you serious?" What I'm left wondering is how in the world the sculpture was constructed, and in what way it was mounted to the ground. I would think that the artist would have tested all possible worst-case-scenerios before allowing people to climb all over it. I thought I would share the story because it's so bizarre...
I hope those families are being comforted in such strange circumstances.
If I were to be totally honest with you all, there's this black-comedy part of me that is somehow amused because it IS so absurd. Is that wrong? I'd be inclined to think that it is... at the very least, it's quite twisted of me. I mean, really.. why is it that we find stuff like this amusing? When death is serious, there's not an ounce of humor in it. Yet there are movies like Shaun of the Dead, which is absolutely hands down hysterical. It's somewhat violent, it involves people dying, and people being dead... yet it's funny.
There's something in the human psyche that's seriously glitched. Of course, for our Post-Fall world, I suppose to be Glitched makes sense.
Just how do you go about fixing that particular glitch?
Inflatable art flies away: two women die.
You don't hear about this kind of thing every day. While the event is tragic, I can't help but tilt my head and go, "Wha? Are you serious?" What I'm left wondering is how in the world the sculpture was constructed, and in what way it was mounted to the ground. I would think that the artist would have tested all possible worst-case-scenerios before allowing people to climb all over it. I thought I would share the story because it's so bizarre...
I hope those families are being comforted in such strange circumstances.
If I were to be totally honest with you all, there's this black-comedy part of me that is somehow amused because it IS so absurd. Is that wrong? I'd be inclined to think that it is... at the very least, it's quite twisted of me. I mean, really.. why is it that we find stuff like this amusing? When death is serious, there's not an ounce of humor in it. Yet there are movies like Shaun of the Dead, which is absolutely hands down hysterical. It's somewhat violent, it involves people dying, and people being dead... yet it's funny.
There's something in the human psyche that's seriously glitched. Of course, for our Post-Fall world, I suppose to be Glitched makes sense.
Just how do you go about fixing that particular glitch?
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Summer of the Skirt
I'll probably end up writing some more about NST and the past five weeks soon, but here are some thoughts that I noticed about this summer in relationship to skirts. That's right, skirts.
I've never really been the kind of girl that was much into skirts. More than that, I used to never really be the kind of girl that was that much into being a girl. I know that must sound kind of odd, but for most of my life being a girl was not exactly the most appealing thing in the world. There are a lot of reasons for this, and I'm sure any psychologist would have a field day with trying to figure out why. But let's look at two issues specifically.
If you think about it and put all things into consideration, there are a lot of things that are thrown out there about gender that cause a lot of confusion about boys and girls, men and women. Let me go with what I know best. Trying to figure out men is difficult enough to begin with. I think that, out of observing media (movies, TV, magazines, etc), women have a lot of pressure to look as thin, sleek, and beautiful as possible... in fact, to look beyond these things. This kind of infatuation with beauty does have a legitimate root: women want to know they're beautiful. The problem arises out of the fact that society at large does not have a rudimentary definition of what "beauty" is. The fear of the Lord is the most beautiful thing a person - man or woman - can have. Unfortunately, not everyone sees it that way.
What's interesting about it all, is that during the Renaissance, beautiful women were characterized as voluptuous. They had a little more junk in the trunk, with a tire to spare if you will. Maybe that's painting a different sort of image for you, but basically it wasn't wrong to be a size 16, or even a size 20. Were they beautiful? Absolutely. But perhaps I'm more biased towards this image of beauty because I could never attain today's media-tradition of beauty even if I wanted to. Generally speaking, if you're not built to be a size 2, it's very unhealthy to be a size 2. I have a hard time with this sort of body issue because going to the mall to buy clothing can be a nightmare. A lot of the really 'cute' clothing won't be found in any size that fits right. Who knew having curves would be almost like having a curse? Another extreme that media throws out there is that beautiful women throw themselves out there physically.. You've got so much showing there's nothing left for the opposite sex to be even curious about.
Another issue that I think is somewhat fueled by society is the confusion about what a woman is; the gender confusion issue. While I'm all about the women's rights movement, what I'm not about is treating women as if they ought to be men. Women don't think like men, women don't naturally act like men. I might have gotten a lot of confusing messages growing up, but it seems like being a woman is less valued than being a man - and not in the same way as it was back in the day. For me to act like a girl, to want to wear skirts, to want to be pretty, to want to have children and a family, and to want to be treated generally different than a man seems like a crime. That doesn't mean I don't want equal pay and it doesn't mean I don't want to vote. It doesn't mean I think of my gender as lesser. But what it then comes down to is the question, "What does it mean to be womanly?"
Could it be that part of it just has to do with accepting the fact that men and women are fundamentally different? I have two X chromosomes and a man has an X and Y chromosome for a reason in God's good creation. I think it's a grave injustice to both of the sexes to deny that. We were made the ways we were made for very good and awesome reasons.
I realize now that I've kind of gotten off on a tangent. Let's bring it back around to this Summer of the Skirt thing.
I realized while I was at summer training that I wore a skirt more often than I ever had before. Long, flowy skirts ... It's strange to me, and part of that strangeness could just have to do with the fact that it was unusual for me and I enjoyed it. Now, part of me has to wonder if I enjoyed wearing skirts because of some of the men at staff training. I noticed I recieved more compliments when I wore a skirt... things like, "You look nice today," or "I like that skirt." Funny how quickly you can pick up on those kinds of things when you're not used to it. It's not as though they were hitting on me (praise the Lord), but they were sincere compliments. I wonder if it's a travesty that men don't compliment women this way as often. Maybe that's why it's so meaningful when a man my own age says I'm pretty. It's like a precious jewel of truth that the Lord gives through them... and you want so hard to believe that it really is true. It's a rare glimpse of how God sees women.
There are certainly aspects of my personality that totally contradict the stereotypical 'girly-girl' things. For instance, I love hotwings and know I can down 60 in one night (which is not as great of an idea as it sounds, by the way). I also don't get all squealy or freaked out about "gross" things like frogs, bugs, and eating things off the ground. I'm sure some people wonder why I'm not dead yet. I also love to romp around in the woods, get my hands messy with art stuff, and other things like that. Over the past year, however, I've found myself adopting some girly qualities... this summer just added to the process of "learning how to be a girl."
For instance, the color pink used to be something I abhored. I used to hate it when my girlfriends would say something about me was cute. Now, pink is growing on me as an acceptable color and I'll be thankful if one of my friends says something I have is cute.
So, with that all said... I think that part of that may also have to do with the fact that this past year left barely any room to look nice. T-shirts and messy paint pants were found on my body most of the time. I suppose you could say that I've been hungry to look nice. Maybe the whole experience is just a part of growing up and introducing myself to the world of being a college graduate. In either case, this was a Summer of the Skirt and they're a more integrated part of my wardrobe now as impractical as they can be at times.
Those are my thoughts for now. Love and applesauce-
Y
I've never really been the kind of girl that was much into skirts. More than that, I used to never really be the kind of girl that was that much into being a girl. I know that must sound kind of odd, but for most of my life being a girl was not exactly the most appealing thing in the world. There are a lot of reasons for this, and I'm sure any psychologist would have a field day with trying to figure out why. But let's look at two issues specifically.
If you think about it and put all things into consideration, there are a lot of things that are thrown out there about gender that cause a lot of confusion about boys and girls, men and women. Let me go with what I know best. Trying to figure out men is difficult enough to begin with. I think that, out of observing media (movies, TV, magazines, etc), women have a lot of pressure to look as thin, sleek, and beautiful as possible... in fact, to look beyond these things. This kind of infatuation with beauty does have a legitimate root: women want to know they're beautiful. The problem arises out of the fact that society at large does not have a rudimentary definition of what "beauty" is. The fear of the Lord is the most beautiful thing a person - man or woman - can have. Unfortunately, not everyone sees it that way.
What's interesting about it all, is that during the Renaissance, beautiful women were characterized as voluptuous. They had a little more junk in the trunk, with a tire to spare if you will. Maybe that's painting a different sort of image for you, but basically it wasn't wrong to be a size 16, or even a size 20. Were they beautiful? Absolutely. But perhaps I'm more biased towards this image of beauty because I could never attain today's media-tradition of beauty even if I wanted to. Generally speaking, if you're not built to be a size 2, it's very unhealthy to be a size 2. I have a hard time with this sort of body issue because going to the mall to buy clothing can be a nightmare. A lot of the really 'cute' clothing won't be found in any size that fits right. Who knew having curves would be almost like having a curse? Another extreme that media throws out there is that beautiful women throw themselves out there physically.. You've got so much showing there's nothing left for the opposite sex to be even curious about.
Another issue that I think is somewhat fueled by society is the confusion about what a woman is; the gender confusion issue. While I'm all about the women's rights movement, what I'm not about is treating women as if they ought to be men. Women don't think like men, women don't naturally act like men. I might have gotten a lot of confusing messages growing up, but it seems like being a woman is less valued than being a man - and not in the same way as it was back in the day. For me to act like a girl, to want to wear skirts, to want to be pretty, to want to have children and a family, and to want to be treated generally different than a man seems like a crime. That doesn't mean I don't want equal pay and it doesn't mean I don't want to vote. It doesn't mean I think of my gender as lesser. But what it then comes down to is the question, "What does it mean to be womanly?"
Could it be that part of it just has to do with accepting the fact that men and women are fundamentally different? I have two X chromosomes and a man has an X and Y chromosome for a reason in God's good creation. I think it's a grave injustice to both of the sexes to deny that. We were made the ways we were made for very good and awesome reasons.
I realize now that I've kind of gotten off on a tangent. Let's bring it back around to this Summer of the Skirt thing.
I realized while I was at summer training that I wore a skirt more often than I ever had before. Long, flowy skirts ... It's strange to me, and part of that strangeness could just have to do with the fact that it was unusual for me and I enjoyed it. Now, part of me has to wonder if I enjoyed wearing skirts because of some of the men at staff training. I noticed I recieved more compliments when I wore a skirt... things like, "You look nice today," or "I like that skirt." Funny how quickly you can pick up on those kinds of things when you're not used to it. It's not as though they were hitting on me (praise the Lord), but they were sincere compliments. I wonder if it's a travesty that men don't compliment women this way as often. Maybe that's why it's so meaningful when a man my own age says I'm pretty. It's like a precious jewel of truth that the Lord gives through them... and you want so hard to believe that it really is true. It's a rare glimpse of how God sees women.
There are certainly aspects of my personality that totally contradict the stereotypical 'girly-girl' things. For instance, I love hotwings and know I can down 60 in one night (which is not as great of an idea as it sounds, by the way). I also don't get all squealy or freaked out about "gross" things like frogs, bugs, and eating things off the ground. I'm sure some people wonder why I'm not dead yet. I also love to romp around in the woods, get my hands messy with art stuff, and other things like that. Over the past year, however, I've found myself adopting some girly qualities... this summer just added to the process of "learning how to be a girl."
For instance, the color pink used to be something I abhored. I used to hate it when my girlfriends would say something about me was cute. Now, pink is growing on me as an acceptable color and I'll be thankful if one of my friends says something I have is cute.
So, with that all said... I think that part of that may also have to do with the fact that this past year left barely any room to look nice. T-shirts and messy paint pants were found on my body most of the time. I suppose you could say that I've been hungry to look nice. Maybe the whole experience is just a part of growing up and introducing myself to the world of being a college graduate. In either case, this was a Summer of the Skirt and they're a more integrated part of my wardrobe now as impractical as they can be at times.
Those are my thoughts for now. Love and applesauce-
Y
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
The letters in the days that go by
So I've noticed that it's been a while since I wrote anything in this dandy little blog - although I'm sure it hasn't hit the grapevine yet that it exists. But that's okay, because I'm going to break one of my own codes of conduct to do this: it's not going to have a lick to do with art. Gasp!
I've been on the otherside of Pittsburgh for almost a full five weeks now for CCO training. Where could I even begin with writing about how phenomenal it has been? I came in, unsure of whether going into the CCO to work at an art school was what God was really calling me to. Now, on the other side, I couldn't be more sure that this is it. It's been a lot of hard work, but I have enjoyed it. It's been a lot of fun, and I have relished it. They might say that all the information we've learned is like trying to drink from a fire hydrant, but I would like to say that it's more like trying to swallow a well-made steak whole. Why? Simply put: It's so amazingly delicious, so fantastically seasoned, but it takes a lot of time to digest. When I get home, I will have a nice sit down to digest - hopefully sooner rather than later. I may have to wait, since currently there is a pile of rubble where part of my ceiling collapsed. Long story.
At any rate... indeed, how can I count the things I've learned? Creation/Fall/Redemption. Consumation. All of creation had once been completely, entirely, thouroughly good. It will be pretty sweet to see that one day. There is nothing on earth that Christ doesn't have the right to say, "Mine." This includes the children of the earth, no matter how deep they are in the muck.
The call to shine light into the darkness of a student's heart has become ever more urgent and necessary. I am to be an agent of reconciliation.
Terry Thomas: a big kid with big words, big ideas, and big hair. I could get used to hanging out with people like that.
... and so much more than just the ministry things. There are about 30 other people here, 27 new staffers out of that. All of the people here are fabulous and I am very happy to call them my brothers and my sisters. I love them and pray that the Lord will work through them and in them. I've gotten to know some better than others, but they are all my brethren in arms. They laugh, they love the Lord, they want to transform the world. And without any doubt in my mind, I know that God is going to use them in powerful ways that we can't even imagine. We all come from different backgrounds, we all have different personalities. The vast array of people here is such a beautiful thing.
I'm going to miss them because we've practically have eaten, slept, and breathed together for the past five weeks. But, September is actually not THAT far away....
Well, I suppose that's enough thoughts for now. More will come later, probably after all of this craziness has come to a close.
Tonight was our Comissioning Service. God is so good.
I've been on the otherside of Pittsburgh for almost a full five weeks now for CCO training. Where could I even begin with writing about how phenomenal it has been? I came in, unsure of whether going into the CCO to work at an art school was what God was really calling me to. Now, on the other side, I couldn't be more sure that this is it. It's been a lot of hard work, but I have enjoyed it. It's been a lot of fun, and I have relished it. They might say that all the information we've learned is like trying to drink from a fire hydrant, but I would like to say that it's more like trying to swallow a well-made steak whole. Why? Simply put: It's so amazingly delicious, so fantastically seasoned, but it takes a lot of time to digest. When I get home, I will have a nice sit down to digest - hopefully sooner rather than later. I may have to wait, since currently there is a pile of rubble where part of my ceiling collapsed. Long story.
At any rate... indeed, how can I count the things I've learned? Creation/Fall/Redemption. Consumation. All of creation had once been completely, entirely, thouroughly good. It will be pretty sweet to see that one day. There is nothing on earth that Christ doesn't have the right to say, "Mine." This includes the children of the earth, no matter how deep they are in the muck.
The call to shine light into the darkness of a student's heart has become ever more urgent and necessary. I am to be an agent of reconciliation.
Terry Thomas: a big kid with big words, big ideas, and big hair. I could get used to hanging out with people like that.
... and so much more than just the ministry things. There are about 30 other people here, 27 new staffers out of that. All of the people here are fabulous and I am very happy to call them my brothers and my sisters. I love them and pray that the Lord will work through them and in them. I've gotten to know some better than others, but they are all my brethren in arms. They laugh, they love the Lord, they want to transform the world. And without any doubt in my mind, I know that God is going to use them in powerful ways that we can't even imagine. We all come from different backgrounds, we all have different personalities. The vast array of people here is such a beautiful thing.
I'm going to miss them because we've practically have eaten, slept, and breathed together for the past five weeks. But, September is actually not THAT far away....
Well, I suppose that's enough thoughts for now. More will come later, probably after all of this craziness has come to a close.
Tonight was our Comissioning Service. God is so good.
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