a lot happened today, but i just discovered i don't want to talk about any of it

so here you go instead (it's hilarious):

http://www.clv-comic.com/view.php?pic=122

And this one:

http://www.clv-comic.com/view.php?pic=142

And maybe this one too:

http://www.clv-comic.com/view.php?pic=235

not as good as in ice-cream cone, but better than a sharp stick in the eye

I found that quote while surfing around yesterday, and I totally loved it. In case nobody noticed, I thought I would point out that it's now the new subtitle-thing of my blog. For good, as far as I know.

Philosophy can die. And you know what? Theology can die too. And you know what else? Papers. Papers can die. And research. Research can totally die.

What? Did I use up my fifteen seconds of ranting time already? Are you sure I can't have more? Really? That's all I'm alloted? That sucks.

I'm really really excited about this weaving project I have in mind, so I hope that I can make it really darn good. It's always totally sad when you have something really strongly in mind and then it comes out... bad. I think that's why I enjoy little fiddly-projects best. Because you just take whatever materials are on hand, do whatever comes randomly into your head, switch it around, let the materials sort of dictate what you try to accomplish, and viola! Something you don't hate. Yes, it's an encouraging process. I think, though, that this is a sign of my immaturity as an artist and as a human being. And that is sad. = (

Wish me luck, ladies and gents, as I embark on the next 16 days. I have three major weaving projects (four if you count the one I'm determined to do just for fun), two major color & design projects, a major theology paper (at least 7 pages long, and researched), two philosophy tests (besides the final of course), and the English 108 comprehensive exam to study for. Plus all the usual reading and glosses. Yeah. I'd say that's enough to keep anyone busy. But I'm rested, so here we go.

"if we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life

it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence."
- George Eliot

So, I got the Unaugmented Tongue paper back, finally, for the really really last time ever, and it's good news. And I'll get my favorite poem project back on Wednesday, and the analysis of Scholarship paper back on Friday. So hopefully those will be good too.

T. S. Eliot was one freaking scary man. Scary-looking, that is. For some reason, perhaps penance for not liking all his famous and supposedly great poetry, I'm doing my "Fame and Garbage" project on him. The fame part is T. S. Eliot. The garbage part is the requirements we're given for making the image. Supposedly it's to get us used to working with an unreasonable tyrant of a client. Whatever. We could have been given a lot worse requirements. In fact, we have been given a lot worse requirements; it was just our professors being tyrannical clients.

It sort of feels like I haven't left college, except that I feel more rested and am looking forward to the end of the semester. I may not like being back here doing homework again, but at least I feel like I have energy to make it to the end of the semester. Only two more weeks of class, and then finals, and then J-term! Creative Writing! Woohoo!

Well, I'm off to work on T. S. Eliot's scary face. Wish me luck.

people who believe in absurdities will eventually commit atrocities

- Voltaire

Free your normal side from the prison of absurdity in which it now dwells. I just realized: I haven't seen my dad's side of the family in a while. Maybe I should make an effort to act normal while I'm at Grandma & Grandpa's house. But that would mean no motions, no "glee!", no D&D or pop culture references. Not even any nerdy subculture references. Even art major references would be out of the question, and no Baloney Sauce-ing of artistic meanings from the remains of a meal. That's sort of sad, but I must have a normal side somewhere, deep inside... right? Breathe deeply, calm your mind, and feel the normalcy being freed from its shackles. Let it flow over you like silver rain....

I'm so totally excited. Yes, I'm fully aware that sounds like a valley girl, and no I don't particularly care. Today, Monday, is a Friday. It's the last day of classes for me. A 1-day week. I mean heck, who wouldn't be excited?

I'm off to pack, and other fun stuff like that. And maybe some just plain frolicking is in order.

twelve hours of sleep? yes please i would

And that makes me totally happy. I have done nothing really worthwhile this morning, but that in itself makes me happy. Oh, I'll motivate myself eventually. Just not right now. I like the peace of not thinking about responsibilities.

----------------------------------------------------

Not a knife throw from here you can hear the night train passing
That's the sound somebody makes when they're getting away
Leaving next week's hanging jury far behind them
Prisoner only of the choices they've made

Night train

Ice cube in a dark drink shines like starlight
The moon is floating somewhere out at sea
On an island in the blur of noise and color
Alcatraz, St. Helena, Patmos and the Chateau D'If

Anyone can die here they do it every day
It doesn't take much effort tho it goes against the grain
And the ultimate forgetfulness of violence
Sweeps the landscape like a headlight of a train

Night train

Ice cube in a dark drink shines like star light
Starlight shines like glass shards in dark hair
And the mind's eye tumbles out along the steel track
Fixing every shadow with its stare

i forgot to mention

that yesterday was the birthday of China Achebe.

I found images again, finally. So hopefully that's good. I need to translate them now, or filter them, or whatever. And maybe something good will come. And by images (I just realized I should probably clarify, since I work with two kinds of images) I mean the poetry kind.

I slept through chapel again today, but that's OK, because I went to alternate chapel tonight. And I needed more sleep. I think I'm getting stressed out again, which makes me sad. = ( Maybe I need to set aside some cry time or something. Except that I don't really feel like crying quite yet. I've just got the whole tunnel-vision really-tired-not-quite-attached-to-myself feeling.

Tonight may be one of those 3 a.m. things. I have a gloss to write about a play I don't really remember, and a bunch of painting to do. And that's just the stuff that's due tomorrow. I'm not even finding time to work ahead. Sigh. There goes the whole "no homework over Thanksgiving" plan.

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Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to thy bosom fly,
while the nearer waters roll, while the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Savior, hide, till the storm of life is past,
safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none; hangs my helpless soul on thee.
Leave, ah, leave me not alone, still support and comfort me.
All my trust on thee is stayed, all my help from thee I bring.
Cover my defenseless head with the shadow of thy wing.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want, more than all in thee I find -
raise the fallen, cheer the faint, heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Just and holy is thy name; I am all unrighteousness.
False and full of sin I am; thou art full of truth and grace.

Plenteous grace with thee is found, grace to cover all my sin.
Let the healing streams abound, make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art, freely let me take of thee.
Spring thou up within my heart, rise to all eternity.

sleep can wait until thanksgiving

Or that's what I keep telling myself. Tons to do yet tonight, stuff that's due tomorrow, but I at least finished with the whole learning-of-the-layout-ropes thing. If, that is, I can remember it all. But I think I can. It's mostly common sense stuff, and the stuff that isn't common sense is written down and tacked to the wall behind the computer.

I ran out of yellow paint today. The bookstore, unfortunately, has been completely robbed of any acrylic paint, so I had to drive to Camp Hill in the rain and cold just to get yellow paint. Yick.

...and long live the hyperness.

Also props to Liz for getting accepted to the Minnemingo! ...now I'll actually have to buy one. = D

"...I never live with balance
I always wake up nervous
Light comes at me sideways
I hold my breath forever

I never live with balance
Though I've always liked the notion
I feel that endless hunger
For energy and motion..."

Light from Light,

true God from true God.

I've been wanting to title something "Light from Light" for a long time. I may well title something else that - something real, you know, besides a blog post. But for now, a blog post will have to do.

How did theology result in the sort of poetry in "Light from light, true God from true God"? All I've ever seen of theology is strained, painful, and occaisionally sordid. Very much earthly. In fact, this semester I've taken to thanking God daily that he is greater than theology and greater than philosophy. That's what I'm thankful for. Because you know, if he wasn't, I'd give up. If God was restricted to our fighting out of theology, then he would be one messed up, illogical, fallible, contradictory God.

I've decided I'm going to become a pietist. Actually, the Mennonite tradition is already strongly pietist, so I suppose I already have a good bit of it in me. What I mean, then, is that I'm going to more consciously adhere to a lot of the pietist ideals. What I like about liturgical churches, I've discovered, is pietistic.

The one thing that strongly attracts me to the pietist movement at this particular time is their premise that the divine light is within each of us. Yes, that sounds Quaker, and no, I don't mean it like they do. I love the thought that God speaks directly to us, and that we really are indwelt by the Holy Spirit who teaches us and leads us and intercedes for us. The "inner light" is obviously not the only thing to rely on when making theological decisions, and I'm not about to go completely mystic, but I don't see that it's an idea that should be completely shoved in a closet forever.

I've heard it logically proven that God doesn't guide us personally and that he doesn't speak directly into our lives. Nobody had any good counterarguments (of course, he's a philosophy professor with a Ph.D. and we're undergrads - not exactly fair odds). Good thing I never placed any faith in logic. It's slippery; it can be nuanced and twisted. Frankly, I disagree with his premises, so obviously the conclusion doesn't follow. But I didn't have good philosophical reasons for it - only Biblical ones (which, we've all learned, are inferior reasons for believing anything). But you see? I may choose to reject the argument, but I didn't entirely escape the salvo. Presented with a tradition that so firmly believes we too have the light - that we share in the Light from Light and true God from true God - I cling to it like a drowning man (well, woman actually).

And when I'm completely stressed out of my mind, I cling to the thought of "in the world but not of it." Seperation, holiness, heck, I could go for that. I'd love to sever myself from my current college situation. Or, barring severing, I'd love to have that perspective of "this isn't my home - so does it really matter?"

And in a college full of talk, talk which sometimes seems calculated only to tear things down, who wouldn't like an emphasis on orthopraxy? The idea of doing something concrete, something outside ourselves and our stupid petty arguments about how souls arise, that's mana from heaven. After all, Jesus didn't say, "You shall know a righteous man by the strength of his philosophical arguments." He said, "you'll know the good tree by its fruit."

Here's my thing: Does it really matter at what point the soul becomes attached to the body or in what manner it is attached? Is mystery such a terrible thing? Is it wrong to just say, "Oh, God says we have souls, and I belive in God, so I believe in what he says, so I believe that we have souls"? Because that's where I fall. Not every debate is bad, but I feel totally mired in the stupid, useless, annoying, frustrating, useless... did I already say that? Useless kind. The kind that really, in the end, only serves to emphasize divides.

At this point, I'm ready to forsake anything that looks like religion of the head in favor of anything that looks like religion of the heart.

Oh, and here's another question: Does anyone else find it ironic that a professor advised me to embrace my rebellion? And that as I embrace my rebellion more and more, I care less and less what professors are telling me, and frankly, I care less and less about what anyone is telling me, unless I specifically sought their opinion. A professor told me not to care about what he's saying. Hm. Ironic? I think so.

In happy news, we had "thanksgiving" dinner in Lottie today, and that was tons of fun. We all went around in a circle and said things we were thankful for, and things we were unthankful for, and christened ourselves "the kids' table". Not sophomoric at all. No, but it was great. And the food really was good. And then we went for a short walk, after which I spent two hours at layout, which I really should have been using to do homework. But whatever. I'm going to have a job that's fun next semester, and that's the important thing. And it'll look good on my resume too or something, probably.

I finished my scarf today. It was supposed to be 72", and somehow, mysteriously, it ended up being 99". Not counting fringe. I didn't get into the whole weaving thing At All.

Thanksgiving break is only one week away. That's, like, the best thing ever.

"I was in an airport with my dad, and there were these sweet shoes to the left, and my sisters were there, and they left and I had to run after them, and then we were in this room full of conveyor belts playing this really complex gambling game. And that's it in a nutshell."
- Cody

"Dreaming is like defragmenting for the brain."

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Putting in a Window

Carpentry has a rhythm that should never
be violated. You need to move slowly,
methodically, never trying to finish early,
never even hoping that you'd be done sooner.
It's best if you work without thought of the
end. If hurried, you end up with crooked
door joints and drafty rooms. Do not work
after you are annoyed just so the job
will be done more quickly. Stop when you
begin to curse at the wood. Putting in
a window should be a joy. You should love
the new header and the sound of
your electric screwdriver as it secures
the new beams. The only good carpenter
is the one who knows that he's not good.
He's afraid that he'll ruin the whole house,
and he works slowly. It's the same as
cooking or driving. The good cook
knows humility, and his soufflé never falls
because he is terrified that it will fall
the whole time he's cooking. The good driver
knows that he might plow into a mother
walking her three-year old, and so watches
for them carefully. The good carpenter
knows that his beams might be weak, and a misstep
might ruin the place he loves. In the end,
you find your own pace, and you loose time.
When you started, the sun was high and now
that you're finished, it's dark. Tomorrow, you
might put in a door. The next day,
you'll start on your new deck.

- John Brantingham

Tomorrow will officially be the 1 year anniversary of this blog. So, if short stories are like dating relationships, and novels are like getting married, what is a blog like?

Papers.

People.

Grr.

Is it really the weekend again? Weeks seem both forever slow and infinitely fast when you don't get enough sleep and are under a lot of pressure. The pressure, however, is only letting up minutely. This may be a sleep-reduced week again. Maybe I should start training my body to go on only 5 hours of sleep a night. I feel like the quality of my work would be reduced even further though.

Tonight:

1) dinner
2) Caucasian Chalk Circle
3) begin painting
4) dress loom

Ideally, that is. And that doesn't even begin on the papers. Sigh.

On the upside: I remembered to go to work again today. Rockin'.

You Know,

I think "conspiracy theory" may just be the perfect way to describe Jane Eyre. And papers about Jane Eyre. And heck, papers in general.

That's right ladies and gentlemen - I'm procrastinating writing my papers. The good thing is, I'm doing research for another paper while I'm procrastinating writing the other two. So I'm technically not procrastinating - and yet I am. What a wonderful paradox.

I again didn't make it out of bed this morning for chapel, but hey, I figure I have a good excuse. And there are, thank heavens, plenty of alternate chapels left in the semester.

It's such a great feeling to look at the syllabi of your classes and realize: "Hey! There're only like, seven more entries here! Look how close we are to the end of the semester!" ...and then I realize just how much work is entailed in those last few weeks and start flipping out. I'm employing my best coping techniques; the primary one being to not think very hard about anything and most especially what I have to do after I get this other thing done or how darn badly I'm completing these assignments. Just one thing at a time, one breath at a time, one paper and project at a time. Personally, I find it ironic that the attribute which got me into trouble to begin with - that of not thinking ahead as hard as I possibly could, is the one which is now keeping me sane. Hm. There has to be something symbolic about that, but I don't have time to figure out what. I have to write a glass about Jane Eyre - motifs that develop a theme. Bleah. Poop on Jane Eyre.

Today has been an exciting day.... or rather yesterday was. But not for me, so don't ask any more questions. Happiness out to a general direction that will know the happiness is directed towards it.

The Sleep Count

Funny how when you can't get sleep, your whole world focuses down to how dang tired you are.

I got 3 hours last night and a 2 hour nap this afternoon.

Sleep forecast for tonight: extremely good.

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Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.
I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn't expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, rememering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring
afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world.

- Louise Gluck

So, feeling much better and more anchored to reality today. I missed chapel this morning, but missing chapel allowed me to get 9 hours of sleep, which almost makes up for only getting 5 hours the night before.

Also, yesterday, I got a job. And by "a job" I mean "another job." A job which I am really excited about. I'm going to be the layout editor of the Swinging Bridge next semester! It's a fun job, and one that I feel like I could be really good at. So that rocks my socks off. It'd be about 10-12 hours a week, paying slightly less than the janitorial job does, but since it takes more time it all evens out. I would, of course, quit janitoring. There's no time for both in my life. (Gosh, I sound so ruthless)

And now on to homework. Or whatever reading "Jane Eyre" can be called. (Torture, for instance, is a good alternative word)

Five hours of sleep is not so hot.

Getting all the peripheral work out of the way so that I can concentrate on the important things when I'm fully conscious is.

Any and all prayers for the completion of my color and design project in a timely and visually attractive manner will be accepted.

Gah.

I need to pull at least one of my other grades up to a solid A or I won't make the GPA cut....

I am so tempted to swear right now.

Gah.

Caffeine is the Drug of Choice

All this extra energy could not have anything whatsoever to do with the four cups of tea I've had today. And when I say four cups, I mean 2 mugs, one glass, and one bottle from the C-store.

But I'm channeling all that energy in such a positive way. Namely, avoiding all the sketching I need to do.

I could also be really happy and excited because I had lots of words of affirmation today. I'm at least on the right track with my color & design project, so I'm not having that can't-breathe feeling when I sit down to work on it. And I wrote what is apparently a really good poem, even though it's still in progress, so that's totally exciting. I think I may try to get it published. And I asked Professor Perrin if I should take poetry workshop this next semester or not, and she said she thinks I could do it, so that's exciting. Oh, and I remembered to go to advising night! And that was good too, because my advisor was like, cool, you're on the right track, whatever, and signed my sheet quick as winking. And Daniel Finch said he'd be up for me taking his painting class next semester, which is also happy. And orvieto equivalencies are getting worked out. So yay. Now I have to meet with my english advisor.

On to homework and bed, because bed sounds good.

Get Up Jonah

(I woke up thinking about Turkish drummers It didn't take long - I don't know much about Turkish drummers - But it made me think of Germany and the guy who sold me cigarettes Who'd been in the Afghan secret police Who made the observation That it's hard To live Then I was reminded of the proprietor of a Vietnamese restaurant in Quebec who used to be head of the secret police in Da Nang - and it occurred to me I was thinking about all this stuff to keep from thinking about something else... Isn't that just what secret police are all about???) Somebody stands in a window Watches the river roll Trains rumble in the foreground With the weight of approaching dawn Flames from the refinery Rise broken, red and riveting And the high vault of heaven Looks far away and cold There's howling in the factory yard There's pounding in my head I'm swollen up with unshed tears Bloated like the dead... (Instrumental break) Blood and ashes - time burning On the skyline dark against the stars A solitary horseman - waiting Lashed to the wheel Whipping into the storm Get up, Jonah It's your time to be born

I really want someone to tell me to just calm down, you can make good images if you set your mind to it. Just focus and work, and all will be well.

Right.

1) I don't feel like I can make good images, primarily because 2) I don't know what a good image is anymore, if I ever knew in the first place. 3) I feel like I don't know anyone that I could ask for that kind of affirmation and still get an honest, direct answer. Also, 4) I'm so freaked out at the thought of even trying to make an image that, well, I freak out and can't. I look at a blank page and fall pretty much to pieces.

This is going to be a long week, and all you lucky blog readers are going to get all my whining. You may want to discontinue regular reading for about a week. Or make that until Thanksgiving.