yay me!

I graduated!

And already I'm feeling a bit more sane. There are a few more things that became suddenly more pressing -- like finding an apartment and a full-time job -- but I finally have time to deal with all that. I've got time! It's crazy!

I've moved into the Vander Ark's house for the next month, tomorrow I'm going to the Snader's house for Christmas, and then I'm going home. Then back to get married and hopefully move into our marriage apartment.

Greg & I applied for an apartment, so hopefully we'll get it.

I will no longer receive mail at school -- I don't actually know where I could receive mail at all. I need an address.

And that's my update. Woot! No more homework for a while!

i haz a dilemma:

I can't sleep again.

Supposedly warm milk helps you sleep. Milk also makes you more congested.

If I have a bad cold but can't sleep, which is worse? extra congestion or lost sleep?

Also, can you explode an ear drum by sneezing?

yes, i know it's 2:30 a.m.

I really went to bed an hour ago, I promise. But I've been tossing and turning ever since.

What if the caterer doesn't show up to my wedding 36 days from now? That's what I've been wondering. How can I face 200 people and tell them they have to be hungry?

My absolute, worst case scenario stands this way: as long as we get 24 hours' notice that the caterer won't show up, we can get meat trays from the nearest grocery store, buy out their bread section, cut the crusts off said bread, make pretty signs with the formula for the finger sandwiches we planned to serve them, provide various and sundry supplies, rent some extra drink dispensers from Tents & Events, and have a picnic where guests can make their own sandwiches. Hopefully the youth of Greg's church/various relatives won't mind pitching in to make it all happen.

I even have my explanatory speech planned out, because it's 2:30 in the morning and I've been tossing and worrying for the last hour:

Welcome! We're so pleased all of you took the time to come to our wedding. When Greg and I started flirting just over two years ago, I don't think either of us had any idea that it would end up going this far. But we're obviously very excited. The road has not been without its bumps -- for instance, yesterday we got the call that the caterer couldn't make it to our wedding today. Yep, I'd call that a bump. [wait patiently for nervous laughter] So what we had originally planned to serve you, a high tea, has become more of a picnic instead. We've provided the ingredients for our favorite finger sandwiches and their formulas over here on the buffet, and if you don't mind, you can take a hand in making your own sandwiches. Over there in the back are the scones made by my lovely mother, and on the drink table is mint lemonade stockpiled by Grandma Beulah, hot water for tea, and coffee. Feel free to take your table's tea pot and fill it for your tablemates.

Again, thank you for coming. I hope you like picnics.

And this is why I gave up caffeine. Can you imagine a weddinged & caffeined & insomniac Mackenzie? Truly not a pretty sight.

Hey Mom, you know how I always thought hot milk was real gross? I'm finding it's calming. With a little honey in it to sweeten the deal.

oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear

Here's how it stands, people:

I graduate in 9 days.
I get married in 39.

I can't stop thinking about all the crazy things that need to happen in between. But! Deep breath. It will be fine. Breathe in... breathe out. . .

We have kind of settled on Lancaster as a place to live. That's a little load off my mind. One of the main reasons we want to live there? The art scene. It has one. I know, shocking, right? Anyway. I want to get involved with other artists and galleries and have shows and things like that. So. We will. In Lancaster, Lord willing.

Keep your fingers crossed that we find a place to live in good time.

things are slowly falling into place

Firstly, I have a place to stay until I get married, thanks to Christine.

Secondly, Messiah hired me as a consultant for the month of January, so I'm going to be earning a paycheck, albeit a small one, in a month that otherwise might have passed without any productivity.

Thirdly, the lady at T-mobile is wildly helpful. Today a customer came in wanting to trade in an old phone that the store doesn't sell anymore -- so she nabbed it and is holding it for me. I can pick it up tomorrow. For free. The only catch is I have to buy a charger, but that's only like $20. She also found the unlocky-code thingy for Greg's AT&T phone, so he can move to the T-mobile plan. How rockin' is that? I've never met such a helpful salesman in my life.

So. We only have to find a permanent place to live and a permanent job. But you know, thinking about how much is falling into place in the last couple of days is encouraging. Somehow everything will work out fine. Somehow.

Wish me luck.

Happy Thanksgiving

It's good to be home.

I haven't died -- I still visit my blog! I might blog more after I graduate. Maybe.

P.S. I'm graduating 20 days from now.

The problem is, I don't have a place to live after that yet!

Oops.

I gotta get on that.

this one is for Aaron, whose college is shut down due to contagion.

How near Thou art in the day of sickness. Thou Thyself visitest the sick; Thou Thyself bendest over the sufferer's bed. His heart speaks to Thee. In the throes of sorrow and suffering Thou bringest peace and unexpected consolation. Thou art the comforter. Thou art the love which watches over and heals us. To Thee we sing the song: Alleluia!

It's part of an akathist (in the Orthodox church, a shorter liturgy than the one used on Sunday mornings) that was written by a guy named Gregory Petrov in 1940, shortly before his death in a prison camp. Seems kind of crazy (in the absolutely best way possible) that he would claim the presence of God so strongly near the many ill he saw on a daily basis. . . .

Today I formulated to myself what I want to do with the rest of my life. It's a big project, and there are many ways in which it could find expression. And it's obvious -- it's been in my work's basic impulse from the beginning, I just never thought of it. I never stopped to make a manifesto from it.

(When Daniel heard that I had a manifesto, he immediately brought up the unibomber. What a great start to our afternoon discussion, right?? But no, it's not that kind of manifesto.)

I've been having a lot of discussions lately about the way technology is changing not just our day-to-day lives but the way our very brains function. Essentially, we're losing our ability to focus, brain-experts say. Other friends of mine are convinced that in 20, 30, 100 years no one will unplug from the internet, ever. We'll have little implants in our brains.

And I'm one of the only people so far who, no matter what -- no matter how futilely -- argues against that possibility. No! my insides say. That would be terrible!

So what's my manifesto? I want to formulate work which demands people pay attention to something rigorously observed outside of technology. I want to create work compelling enough to draw people into the real world -- i.e. flowers and trees and other people and gardens and working with your hands. I want to make people pay attention to what's going on in their walk from their house to their car, maybe just one day after they see something I made.

Simple, right? All the roots of that are already in what I'm doing. But in verbalizing that, I feel such a sense of freedom. . . It's the thing that ties together all the different things I do. I can blog and be pulling people into the world. I can be writing a novel and be doing that. I can paint and do that, make prints and do that, feed people and do that, have an amaryllis in my apartment and do that.

And you know what Daniel said to me when I told him that? He said, "You should teach!" Well yes, Daniel, thank you for remembering that I've always wanted to teach. . . . but in any case, the fact that he immediately saw that same thing as the central pillar of what he does as a professor and thought that desire could fit me for a teaching career -- that's so great! It makes me extremely happy.

In five or six years or whatever, I can go in to job interviews and when they ask me about my philosophy of teaching. . . well, that's it! I'm there to help students see something they've never seen before, change their vision and equip them with something vital that the rest of society needs. . . .

I know, chalk it up to being young, but I'm really passionate about that.