sentio aliquos togatos contra me conspirare.

Yay for lots of chocolate, and also for Persephone being fixed! Dad switched the power coupling...thing to a more generic connection, and it didn't work, so he took it apart again. And then he put it back together again, and it worked. Yay! It's worked for a whole day. I tell ya, it's good to have Persephone back in the family. Yayness.

I've also seen the new Pride and Prejudice. It's good, I think. I mean... Jenn and I kept making comments the whole way through (we probably drove the people around us nuts), but despite all my objections, I rather liked it. And of course we saw it late at night, so that made everything just a tad bit funnier. Surprisingly enough, Kiara Knightley (or however the crap you spell her name) didn't do a bad job as Elizabeth. The only thing that really bothered me about the movie is the compression of the script. If I didn't already have the story memorized, I might have been lost at a couple points. And they skipped scenes really quickly. And also, nobody makes as good a Mr. Darcy as Colin Firth. I mean, it's just not possible.

In conclusion, I played DDR today with my cousins and Jenn. I suck. But I'd love to see my aunts and uncles (and parents!) play.

whoa, freaky... i keep forgetting there's a new year's

Tonight Jenn and her family get here. I'm mucho excited. (I almost typed "exited") Ben and Rosie and Tina and Gary are here already, and I think Diane and Tammy are getting here sometime today too. And then Pam and Ed are coming, and then Paula and George... yeah, Grandma and Grandpa's house is going to be packed. None of the older cousins are coming, but they haven't for the past five or six years anyway, so it's no surprise. Anyway, I'm sure we'll see them at Genny's wedding this summer. Also mucho exciting. I now know three couples who are getting married this summer. Bizarre feeling? Yes. Most certainly. Especially since, at home, I revert to being twelve in my head.

I'm actually looking forward to lots of people, and hopefully some excitement and noise. I can practically feel my brain atrophying, and it makes me grumpy in the extreme.

Still no word on Persephone's projected recovery.

i think i'm going to have to stop checking my e-mail first thing in the morning.

I'm not emotionally prepared for onslaughts first thing in the morning. Even if "first thing" happens to be at nearly ten o'clock. (I should also start setting my alarm.)

I've read about... five books in the past three days, not to mention the little bits and slices of other books I sort of find laying randomly around (...or that I steal from family members who were currently reading them). It's good to be home. Very good to be home.

There's hope on the horizon for Persephone. I optimistically hope that before I go back to college she will have recovered entirely. I think, though, that I will undoubtedly miss the deadline for the whole village-story-thing. Forgive me, my college companions, because it's not actually my fault.

Lots of peoples are coming to my house on Thursday (It was supposed to be Wednesday, but for some reason that I wasn't told their plans have changed.). So Mom's preparing menus with Grandma, and cleaning the house, and all that good stuff. We've lately instituted "tea time" at about 3:30 in the afternoon. We eat white-chocolate raspberry cheesecake and drink either tea or coffee. The cheesecake is ginormous, and really rich, so we have to peck away at it a little at a time. Mmm.... it's really good though. And we have lots of nice cheese and crackers and probably some smoked oysters hanging around in the fridge too, leftover from our special Christmas snackage. And chocolate. The house is brimful (is that a word?) of chocolate. I tell you, I like food really really a lot.

Also, I got a new pair of tennis shoes to replace the ones that have holes in them. Yay! = D

Yay. I like Christmas. Really a lot.

And now, I'm so full I feel like I might explode. Mmmm.... I flipping love food.

And also, instead of a bow to improve my mad bow-hunting skills, I got a tripod. So now I can totally hone my mad photography skills.

And also, John Hodgman is a flipping genius, although completely insane. I think quite a few of you would like him. His obsessions include lycanthropy, hobos, squirrels, and lint.

merry pre-christmas

although in a few hours, it won't be pre-Christmas anymore.

Today, we went to Grandma and Grandpa's for supper, and it was really, amazingly good. Mmm.... I'm so spoiled. I mean, I know grandmas as a whole are supposed to be good at that whole domestic/kitchen thing, but Grandma cooks really well.

And also we went to church for a Christmas Eve/communion service, which was pretty cool. They served communion in family groups, which was kinda nice. I don't know as communion has physically been reinforced as more than an individual thing in any other church I've attended.

Here's the sad news: Persephone has bitten the dust. She doesn't register anymore that her power cord is plugged in, and consequently her batteries never charge. So I'm going to have to get that fixed. In one way I'm glad she broke over break, when I don't have any vital papers on her or anything, but in another way I'm really frustrated, because she still has all my stories on her. And also, I still need to pay for books next semester, and I wasn't particularly counting computer repair charges into my budget. I know, that's obviously silly of me. I should always count on technology breaking, but Persephone has been so faithful for so long... and by "so long" I mean about a year and a half. Sigh.

Finished reading "That Hideous Strength" again this week, and I disagree with Lewis more every time I read it. He talks about obedience as a woman's lot in marriage, but forgive me, Lewis is NOT a woman, and I find it presumptive of him to preach at us about obedience in marriage from the point of view of one who could (in his philosophy) command. It's sort of like slave-owners teaching their slaves that Paul said they ought to be obedient and content with their lot in life, never seeking to be free. Not to that great of an extent, maybe, but there is a definite parallel. Don't get me wrong - there's definitely a lot of self-sacrifice and other-centeredness involved in marriage, but I think it doesn't fall under the category of "obedience." Maybe that's just me with my leftover Mennonite inheritance of social activism. Whatever it is, I know this: I would find it insufferable to marry or even date a man who claimed my obedience.

Now, it strikes me as funny that I declare this so firmly when there's no man at all on the horizon.

I feel that, since it's Christmas eve, I should post something Christmas-y, and not just rant about obedience and marriage and Lewis and technology. Mysterious packages have leapt up around our tree, but right now the lights are off and the house is quiet. Most of the family has gone to bed, mandating that they not be woken until nine. Avery's getting sick and running a fever, so he's not really filled with cheer (although he's not complaining either). There are three giant buckets of popcorn scattered around our kitchen, begging to be eaten. And yeah, I'll admit, the anticipation is getting to me a little. I hope everyone likes what I got them. And I hope I don't oversleep my alarm.

And also... I hope that my heart is in an acceptable state to greet the Christ-child.

Merry Christmas.

catapultam habeo. nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam.

Today is the winter solstice. And also the birthday of Joseph Stalin, ironically enough. Maybe that's why he went so wrong. He was born on a day without hardly any sunlight at all, and so instead of light, evil darkness seeped into the depths of his soul.

I tell ya, Hermitopia is looking better and better every day. No real world to contend with, not even of any kind.

I need group feedback before I can start writing again on Mabyn. Hurry up, group. This writing thing is hard enough.

I just realized one great advantage of having a dog. I really can say, "Canis meus id comedit." And what's more, it's probably true. She ate some extension cords the other day here at home, and lately she's been dragging around a mole.

what the author intends with their work is just a single azure twinkle in the manifold lite-brite of interpretation.

I found that quote and absolutely had to use it. It's totally amazing, in so many ways.

My story about Mabyn is not going well. I think I've probably said that to everyone at least twice, but it never hurts to drive the point home. Not going well. I'm not sure if it's because I lack writing motivation, lack affection for the characters, or just plain lack the skill to translate from my head to paper. I think I have all of three paragraphs so far, most of which I will probably end up discarding. I'm still fumbling for a starting place, for some grip on where the story is going and what's important.

The dragon lady isn't going well either. I seem to have hit an insurmountable obstacle in the way I planned to have the plot proceed. So now I'm going to have to change it, but I'm not sure how. I could just change the characters, but I like them. So the plot will have to be tweaked. I'm just not sure how to do that without a blatant deus ex machina. I suppose I could... maybe just take the investigations in a different direction. I could maybe work that in without more than three extra pages.

Also, the poems I'm working on are not going well either. The one I've got the right metaphors for - I think - all except for what I want to say at the very end. I'm so lousy at resolutions. And the other poem I know what I want to say, but I can't find the right image at all. For some reason, I ended up with too many to choose from. That never happens.

The Christmas present thing, however, is going surprisingly well. I got Meredith's today. = D

this comic totally made my day.

Harry Potter fans and critics alike will love it.


And also, for anyone who ever thought Santa was creepy....


P. S. Woot. Grades came back today. And for all my nervous breakdowns, I made the cut!

stop it peter! just because some man in a red coat gives you a sword doesn't make you a hero!

I think that was my favorite moment in the Narnia movie. Everything went right, and, although it wasn't in the book, I felt that it was a good addition, and added greatly to the motivational conflicts within Peter's character. The conflicts which were, unfortunately, poorly gotten over. I think my overall impression is this: good, but falls short of great. It's definitely not a bad movie, but it definitely falls short of great. Still, you should see it.

We got a Christmas tree. It's sort of leaning, but it's beautiful. Mom and I went a little crazy with the lights and decorated the arch between our kitchen, dining room and living room. It looks extremely festive though. There are already mysterious little bulges in the stockings above the fireplace, and I've made one shopping trip. I still need to make at least three more. Avery needs to be taken shopping, and Dad has some stuff he needs to get, and I still need to pick up at least one gift.

It's good to be home. I'm also glad that it's Christmas. It's funny to think how much Christmas has changed for me since I was seven or eight. I remember Christmas really vividly; how exciting the tree was, and the gifts, and how hard I thought about every single one I was going to get and give. And the night before I could hardly sleep! This year especially the gifts seem much less important (though I still put a lot of thought into the ones I'm giving people), the anticipation for the actual day is somewhat lacking. Santa Claus? I never did believe in him. I'm just thankful to be home. People, not presents, make this Christmas good. I tend to just bask in being with my family, rather than do any of the things I usually enjoy, like writing. I played x-box with the boys yesterday and today, and it was pretty hilarious. I suck, of course, but it's still fun. I also find that the spiritual devotion of preparing for Christmas is much more meaningful than the material preparation for Christmas. I'm not sure if I should be glad or sad. Christmas has both deepened and shrunk. It's probably just one of those growing up things that are sort of bittersweet and overly sentimental.

"One gets these presentiments"
- Jeeves
(if you haven't read any P. G. Wodehouse, go check out "Carry On, Jeeves" immediately from your local library. It will help you recover from oversentimentality stemming from the Christmas season.)

goodness knows i'm no master-mind myself, but compared with biffy i'm one of the great thinkers of all time

I'm back home, and it's nice. I slept for about twelve hours last night, which almost completely makes up for not sleeping at all the night before. The trip to the airport was eventful, leaving me almost completely lost and making it to the departure gate a mere ten minutes before they started boarding. The layover in Detroit had me walking across the entire terminal and underground over to another concourse, as well as waiting an hour on the plane before we could de-ice and take off. I'm just glad they didn't cancel the flight altogether (the weather was kinda bad). And then, when I got to Huntsville, it became apparent that my luggage didn't make it. It still sat in some other airplane in Detroit. But it came this morning, so all is well.

And I realized just how much stuff I planned on doing this break. I might not actually have time to get that much done - especially since I plan on taking it easy. This is break, dangit. It's not meant to be a time where you give yourself homework assignments because the teachers failed to. If you want to work, then do, and if you don't, then don't, and that's my Christmas break motto.

Merry Christmas.

...to be happy

I fell again yesterday. Twice. I hurt my wrist this time. I suppose I should be glad I didn't hurt my head.

I also discovered that if I ever have to jumpstart my car, I'd be so screwed. Meredith's car wouldn't start, so we thought, hey, Meredith's got jumper cables, she can call her dad and find out how to do it, and we can jump her car from my car battery. Well, I got the car up to where Meredith was, and we discovered that my battery is hidden somewhere under a bunch of other parts. So that wasn't going to work. But a nice boy saw us standing around with the cables and our emergency blinkers on and came over to help. He very kindly jumped Meredith's car from his truck, and he'd done this before, so no one exploded. (How is it that boys seem to just absorb this kind of knowledge? Meredith's younger brother knew how to jump the car too.) But if my battery ever goes dead, heaven only knows what I'll do.

Finals are officially over for me. I got my butt kicked by them, but at least they're over. I feel less like a triumphant runner finishing a marathon than a runner who started out triumphant and ended up quadriplegic by the end of the marathon. But possibly sleep, some home-cooked food, and some free time will help with that. I'm leaving tomorrow at 7:30 am, and God willing will arrive in Huntsville at 12:30.

leg deinen schatten auf die sonnenuhren, und auf den fluren lass die winde los.

Lots of inarticulate grumpy noises direected towards all printers in general and the graphics lab printers in particular. Lots and lots.

all that glory shining around and we're all caught taking a dive

I think Meredith is right. When it hits midnight, I simply lose my mind. Last night, it was about 1 a.m., and since visiting hours were finally over, I was going to go take my shower. Only I forgot to take off my fuzzy yellow slippers.

If I can just get through tomorrow my life will be cake. English 108 final, Theology paper due, and Philosophy final. And of course once those are over I have to start working on the currency project due Tues. And once that's done I have to work on my weaving project which is due Wed. And Wed. I'll be working on some fun weaving before I leave quick, and also cleaning my room and defrosting the fridge. So maybe not cake. But it will at least be a batch of cookies.

My knee is a lovely mottled combination of green and purple. I also discovered a bruise on my side by accidentally punching it, which is kind of mysterious.

omg omg narnia!!!!!1

It was the best movie ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just kidding. But I thought I'd join in the fun. = D

"human beings are restless for a fulfillment of life not yet realized." Now that, my friend, I can agree with.

i'm talented. and also completely unfit to live in the north.

I hurt my leg today, and now it's swelling and has a weird bump. All because I wore my clogs this morning. [It was pretty funny to see me slipping and sliding down to Climenhaga though. Liz pulled me along for part of it, like ice skating, except with a heck of a lot less control.] I know, it's a dumb thing to do when you just got seven (or so - I'm bad with numbers) inches of snow dumped on your doorstep. I still can't explain. And also I'm afraid to drive to Camp Hill to get the art supplies I need. I keep telling myself I'll wait till tomorrow when all the roads will be cleared for sure. Let's hope that works out.

It's Friday! The last official day of classes. Woot. And we had a 2-hour delay, so we only had half a Color & Design class, and Crystal Downing (heteroglossia) got stuck in her driveway, so no English 108 either. Which is kind of sad, because it was supposed to be a review day for the final exam, and now we're just completely on our own with that whole reviewing thing. But it's also great, because I went and visited Professor Perrin instead. That always makes me happy.

I'm kind of sad that I have a conscience. It got me volunteered to work the art league sale this afternoon, because Christine was the only worker who had shown up, but she had to leave for work. And also it made me volunteer my loom to another girl in my weaving class, so she could finish her final. But half of me really really wanted to just keep the loom and do my fun stuff on it.... I'm just hoping against hope that she gets done before Wednesday. Otherwise I'll be up all night weaving before I leave. And that would kind of suck. I don't like doing the right thing.

OK. I'm done, and going to go write my theo paper. I want to finish that today, and also my clarion pages. And tomorrow I'm going to finish the currency project, and Sunday I'm going to sew really a lot. That's the plan.

hahaha.... [wicked smile]

http://www.clv-comic.com/view.php?pic=822

So, I know someone who I could totally see saying this....

the art of losing isn't hard to master

Today I wove almost three yards, wrote four pages, and lived through class. That should make me really happy. The problem is, I need to average that in order to get done with all my work in time. This theology paper thing is turning out to be much longer than I thought. Just to cover the basics it might end up being 14 pages long. I've never written a paper that long before. Heck, I've never even read a paper that long before. I think even the concept of writing a paper that long is going to make my head explode. Of course, that could be because it's 12:30, and one more day of my life is ticked off, the countdown to finals week looming ever closer.

The really good news: no more chapels. Not a single one. I'm taking this as a wonderful opportunity to sleep in.

christopher paolini is a lousy author - get over it and stop talking about his dumb books

I hurt my knee yesterday. It hurts. Mostly when I walk up and down stairs, and when I stand up or sit down. But it hurts, and so I'm whining like a small child.

To my family: sorry I didn't call today. This is the first free moment I've had today, and I won't get off work until 10:30, by which time I imagine everyone will be asleep, like real-life human beings. And my flight is arriving in Huntsville at 12:30, so if I forget to tell you that on the phone, you'll know anyway. Don't forget me. (Maybe whoever picks me up and I could have lunch at Dad's office before going home?)

I just realized that I have one week to finish my color & design final, which I haven't even begun yet. And 8 days to finish my weaving, which I've barely started. And 6 days to write a 7-page minimum paper, of which I have written three paragraphs. I also found out that I have three finals on Monday. So Monday is going to suck. And also I discovered that I have three, not two, spreads to do for the yearbook before Saturday. Hm. The good thing is, it only took me two hours to almost-completely-finish 2 spreads, so the third ought to take me only an hour or an hour and a half more. The problem is, the front desk does not have the right key to the Clarion office, so every time I want to get in to work, I have to call dispatch and wait half an hour for them to show up.

Well, at least I have one thing resolved in my mind: I'm not going to start missing sleep until the very last minute, and only if I absolutely have to. That might mean staying up all night, but it will also mean that my thinking is at top speed (which, I know, isn't really all that fast) until the point where I almost don't need it anymore. Maybe. That's the theory, anyway.

Good night to all, I'm going to do more research for my paper. Wish me lots of luck.

and don’t say woot - you sound like a retarded owl.

So I stole that from Ben, who was quoting someone else, but I don't think either of them will mind being made a little more famous...er.

Did I forget to mention that I played DDR for the first time at Chad & Amy's at Chrisgiving?

And by the way guys, you'll totally love this... especially you, Jenn. Bet you can't guess the grapevine route I traced to find it. http://www.energyfiend.com/death-by-caffeine/

I'd have to drink 585 cups of hot chocolate in order to die from caffeine poisoning. I would have to drink 252 cups of Chai tea. Think of the stomach ache you'd get from that.

Today was pretty good I guess. About like normal. I'm going to just keep going and not think about anything except what's right in front of my face, because if I do, I might just get stressed again.

Someone remind me to meet Katie Ness at 4:15 tomorrow. I forgot we had a layout meeting on Saturday. Oops. A consequence of my "not-looking-at-anything-except-what's-right-in-your-face" policy, but heck, if I lost my mind, it wouldn't do me any good to meet Katie Ness anyway.

i sort of feel like if i don't post everday, it'll seem like i have more of a life. is that weird?

Hi.

I like Pro Tempore. Have I said that before? I really do. People actually put effort into reading my poem for the meeting, which I totally appreciate.

Food today at Chad & Amy's was good, a lot of fun. I almost felt guilty for not working, but then I forgot to think about working. So that was kinda cool. = )

Also, our felting project has been completely put off until tomorrow, which kinda freaks me out, but on the other hand, I don't actually care about felting or about this presentation.

And the senior I'm working with for the project said that Professor Forsythe gives us a ridiculous amount of work, so see? I'm not the only one that thinks so. I'm not just complaining, although I'm doing that too. But it's not gratuitous whining. Mah [sticks tongue out a screen].

i had more comics to make you all laugh with, but i wrote which ones i wanted on my hand and then took a shower.

I hate it when that happens.

So, I'm getting totally excited that this is the last week of class, as well as freaking scared. Scared?

Because I'm aiming to do nine yards of weaving before the 14th, and parts are mysteriously missing off of all the looms in the studio.

And also because I have a seven page research paper to write before the 13th.

Of course, Lucy and Andrew wrote nine and eight page papers (respectively) in one night. I couldn't do that, but I can at least do three pages in a night. Maybe. If I don't particularly want them to be good pages.

Anyway, enough griping. I've got a lot to do, and by golly, I'm going to do it. I'm fortified with a longer-than-usual sleep, and I have (thanks to Mom) a large supply of hallowe'en candy at hand. I figure, every time I accomplish something I'll reward myself with candy. Shameless bribery works on little kids, so why not on college students?

though i walk through the wilderness

"Arminianism: I chose this shirt!"

H: "I just love this basket. It's so amazing! I wanna put baby wild animals in it."
P: "Like baby cows?"
H: "Like baby bunnies... and kittens... and also muffins."
- Haley and Professor Forsythe

"I saw a kind of rigor in practice, and thought the sacrifice of contentment (which I didn't have anyway) was well worth such serious joy."
- Louise Gluck

"I bought this giant spool of elastic - I don't even remember why. I think I was just excited."
- Amber

I walked into the alley yesterday, went over to the bins of colored resume paper, looked them over, and pulled a few out. I took them over to the guy at the counter and said, "Can I get these copied onto a color transparency?" The guy looked at me, then looked at the paper, then squinted thoughtfully, and said, "Wait... you want me to just copy these blank pieces of paper onto transparencies? Just the blank paper?" I said, "Yes, thanks."

Today in theology class we formed groups (of between 4 and 5 - however that works. Could you get a group of 4.5 people? I think not) and the spokesperson of our group happened to be named Ben. When Ben went up to the board to write down our answers to the discussion questions, he realized he didn't know how to spell "efficiency." (wow... I just discovered that all spellings of efficiency look wrong to me now) So he asked. About five people started telling him how to spell it, and it went through three different (wrong) permutations before, with admirable elegance, he finally wrote "efishancy."

"Paper is wood."

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.

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

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."

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

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.

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

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.

So I feel like it's getting harder and harder for me to function in the real world. I remembered, at 2:45 today, that I was supposed to take my philosophy make-up exam sometime between 11 and 3. Luckily he was really nice and let me take it anyway.... And then I forgot about going to layout (and it was pizza night too!) and went to an art league halloween party instead, dressed up as a tree. Oh, and I completely forgot when student advising night was and totally freaked out, because what if that was today and then I couldn't register? Horrible feeling. Ironically enough, as it gets harder and harder to actually function, I care less and less about not functioning. I'm just sort of like, 'Oh well.' Or maybe it's not that I don't care, it's just that I'm so snowed under with work and worry that I don't feel anything anymore, except a sort of giddy desire to sleep away the rest of my life.

I just can't forget to show up to work again, or I think I might actually get fired. Heaven help me when I have to get a real job.

Tomorrow will be the start of the twelfth month of my blog. Fear my wordliness. I feel sort of like I should have a birthday party for it. But what would I do? "Oh yes, let's make another demented birthday cake for my blog." The only thing weirder would be having a festival to celebrate the gold rush taking place somewhere else. Crazy Albertans.

I decided sometime yesterday that I really wanted to dress up as Crystal Downing for halloween (I mean heck, she's the scariest person I know), but that didn't quite work out. I thought about trying to get a stalkerlink picture of her blown up so I could make it into a mask for tonight's art league party, but there were difficulties, and I didn't think art majors would know who she was anyway. But next year, look out.

Speaking of Crystal Downing, I got my paper back today. She said really really complimentary things in the paper about sophisticated engagement and "sometimes brilliant insight" and stuff, and then handed down an 88.... So ironic. So so ironic. Anyway, she definitely thinks I'm in the right major, so that's good. I sort of wish I could get that kind of validation from an art professor. Good thing about that paper is that the revision is worth twice as much as the actual paper, so I could definitely end up with a decent grade, although I am over the cut-off line where she requires a revision. I just want more than a B+ you know? I need all the help I can get when it comes to bouying up my art grades.

Speaking of which, I am totally freaking out when it comes to this next project. So few rules, and historically I just do badly without rules. I've got myself psyched out enough that I'm afraid to start. And if I don't start, I definitely won't do well. So yes, prayers would be appreciated....

Happy hallowe'en to all I suppose, although I don't usually celebrate that.

Chicken Noodle Soup

Chicken Noodle Soup for the Upset Mind. Ever wonder why they don't title a book that way? They have Chicken Noodle Soup for the Mothers, Children, Couples, Soccer players, Artists, Musicians, and Waste Management Technicians of this world, so why not Chicken Noodle Soup for the Disturbed Mind, or for the Psychotic Soul, or even just the Upset Mind? Chicken noodle soup stays well on upset stomachs, I mean, isn't that why it was invented? So why not Chicken Noodle Soup for the Upset Mind - something bland and distracting that would sooth the restless beast.

So I had a sort of bad last couple of days. Then I had a couple of really good moments, and then some really bad moments, and then some more really good moments. And while the good moments are good, I feel like all of life is good. And when the bad moments are bad, I feel like life is crashing around my ears - or possibly trying to chop down the tree I'm in, while singing "Fifteen birds in an evergreen tree" (or whatever it is that the ogres sang while Bilbo, Gandalf, and the dwarves were up those trees. I'm trying to draw a parallel between life and an ogre here. Pretend that it worked.). But I suppose that's nothing new. Except that sometimes it's easier to see that bad moments don't last forever. Of course, it's also easier to see that the good moments won't last forever, but if you're balanced enough to realize that, then you're balanced enough to enjoy them while they do last.

In conclusion:

1) Edmonton holds a yearly festival to celebrate the gold rush taking place somewhere else. (Courtesy of Jenn, and roundaboutly Jill and the Internationals that happened to be held at Calgary)

and 2) "Chin up. I spend most of my days in a basement wondering if anyone will ever even see what I'm painting." - Daniel Finch

Oh, and the project that resulted in my damaged finger? Good grade. Heck yes.

I feel like I should have something terribly poetic and profound to say tonight. I think it's a combination of the rain, the dark, and the stress that makes me feel slightly melancholy and slightly writer-ish. I feel like rain ought to be inspiring rather than just plain annoying, and that melancholy ought to be good for something (like motivation to write). All week I've been scrambling to get things done the day before they're due, and that never makes for happiness. I'm much better if I can plan a couple days ahead, or snatch a few minutes' free time, even if I never end up doing anything with it.

The finger is probably doing better today. Anyway, I'm typing with it and it doesn't hurt, so that's a good sign, right?

Mandatory floor meeting tonight - yippee doo-dah day. RA evaluation forms, which I think is kind of ridiculous, because we've only had them for half a semester so far. How are we to know if they really are good RAs or not? They might suddenly become totally awesome next week, and the RA forms would totally fail to reflect that. But then, if you're a lousy RA, I suppose you know by halfway through a semester. Funny, though, I don't remember filling one of these out last year. Heh.

My gloss at least is done for tomorrow - that's the one I thought would be like pulling teeth. Optimistically I'm hoping I only have an hour's worth of Color & Design to do by tomorrow, and that the floor meeting will take 15 minutes tops. And, again optimistically, I think my theology midterm went well. Especially considering that I only spent maybe two hours studying for it. I figure that because I heard the material in two classes, in multiple seperate lectures, and because I could fill out the study sheet without too much trouble, that my level of confidence is reasonable.

Now if only my assignments were. = D

Creativity Takes a Terrible Toll.

"It makes us egocentric, selfish, competitive, anxious, desperate, and terrified. Creativity does not respect time or place or schedules. It demands that we focus on ourselves, often to the neglect of other responsibilities, sometimes to the exclusion of those who love us. We are never satisfied: we constantly examine our work and ourselves for flaws - and we always find them. The world acclaims us when we succeed, pities us when we fail, ignores us much of the time, and never really understands. Who would willingly take up such a double-edged sword? But who can put it down?"
Gutsy opening to a publication aimed at prospective students. And, I think, only half right.

Finding it hard to type without the use of my left index finger, which has recently been sliced open (anyone want to see a picture? If I'm going to hurt, I might as well get the most gross mileage possible out of it) so this is a short one. But I'm alive and other than the finger and a large amount of stress, doing well.

-The Subtle Wounded Nut

Fallingwater

So, here is the wonderful amazing fantabulous post about Fallingwater.

It began on a dark and cold morning, a Thursday morning to be exact. Knowing that I would not actually want to get out of bed, however much I wanted to see Fallingwater, I set two alarms - the one I normally use and the one with a stentorian roar (which also happened to be plugged in across the room, so I'd actually have to get up out of bed to stop the shrieking). I was sorely, sorely tempted to just crawl back into bed and forget the whole trip. Going out in the dark and the cold to get the car? Driving three hours by myself?

Well, all said, I talked myself into going down to get the car, checking the oil, swinging by the ATM to get some cash, and started on my way... probably one of the bravest things I've ever done. Once I got in the car, though, I felt more in control. The weather I can't change, nor can I change my fears; but the music, or my cruising speed, yes I can.

I only got one little bit of lost, but that wasn't my fault. There was no road sign. But, when I turned around and came back the other way, wonder of wonders! The road was marked. So I got there after all.

And it was beautiful. I'm not sure that I really know how to articulate what it was like at the actual house. It really surprised me to be there and be grown up and by myself. It really surprised me how differently I ended up thinking about the house. I remember pretty clearly our first visit there. Mostly there were lots of old people there touring the house in large groups. There were a couple of college students there though. Art students, judging by their sketch books and assiduous use of them. The tour took a little longer than I remembered, and we didn't get done until close to 2 p.m. So I went to the cafe and decided to splurge a little bit on a hot bowl of split pea soup. It was heaven compared to Lottie pea soup. Little chunks of ham and carrot and very hot and not all soupy.

The trip home was much the same as the trip there - except that I was sort of sleepy and had to stop for coffee, and didn't get lost. And I got to use the cell phone for the first time, so that was pretty exciting too.

Definitely a sacred day. Or maybe I mean holy day. Anyway. A set apart day. A not normal in any sense day. On the trip out, I felt like all the rough waves and conflicting currents had suddenly flowed into this gentle eddy, leaving me floating slowly, looking up at a blue blue sky and thinking, "Oh! How did this happen? I like it." I feel more renewed, and a tad bit readier to face the start of school again. Maybe I won't be able to throw myself back into it, but maybe I can keep my head above water. I realized that what I've been designing in my head as my future ideal studio bears some uncanny resemblances to Mrs. Kauffman's room at Fallingwater. Haha. Well, can't go wrong if it's the same basic shape as a FLW room, right? = D

Eh, that's enough of that. I think most of what I learned will just have to stay with me. Nobody, I think, will care too much about the little glimpses of vision I had, or those sort of weird internal revolutions that, I suspect, only matter to those subject to them. It was good, though, very good.

I will, I swear, write soon about my trip to Fallingwater. I will write about being on campus over break, and about how my room exploded. I will write about canvases, and movies, and why the heck I have to get up at 5:45 tomorrow morning. I will write about all the ingenius ways there are to make yourself get out of bed when face it - you really don't want to. But, alas, all of that must wait until later. Because now, well, absolutely nothing calls me - it calls me with desperation that makes me want to go and do absolutely nothing.

A Day of Poetry

Well, as we all know, English 108 Intro to English Studies (also known affectionately - to Crystal Downing - as Heteroglossia: the Interpretation of Tongues) has eaten my soul. So, in honor of the soul eating, and as a reaction against national chemistry week, I decided to make today a day of poetry. Some of the ones I'm going to put in are famous, but I hope that I am not such an idiot as to dislike a good poem just because it also happens to be famous. All of the poems are from my English 108 textbook.

Milton:

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly* ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmer, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or His own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."

[*fondly in this time period meant foolishly]

A. E. Stallings:

Sine Qua Non

Your absence, father, is nothing. It is nought -
The factor by which nothing will multiply,
The gap of a dropped stitch, the needle's eye
Weeping its black thread. It is the spot
Blindly spreading behind the looking glass.
It is the startled silences that come
When the refrigerator stops its hum,
And crickets pause to let the winter pass.

Your absence, father, is nothing - for it is
Omega's long last O, memory's elision,
The fraction of impossible division,
The element I move through, emptiness,
The void stars hang in, the interstice of lace,
The zero that still holds the sum in place.

[That's the one I did my paper on]

Donne:

A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning

As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say
The breath goes now, and some say no:

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

Moving of the earth brings harms and fears;
Men reckon what it did and meant;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
Those things which elemented it.

But we, by a love so much refined
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.

Our two souls, therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to airy thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two:
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th'other do.

And though it in the center sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans and harkens after it,
And grows erect as that comes home.

Such wilt though be to me, who must,
Like tho'other foot, obliquely run;
They firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.

Batter my heart three-personed God

Batter my heart, three-personed God, for You
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend.
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurped town to another due,
Labor to admit You, but Oh! to no end.
Reason, Your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love You, and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto Your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again;
Take me to You, imprison me, for I,
Except You enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except You ravish me.

Frost:

Acquainted with the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right
I have been one acquainted with the night.

And, the last one I promise, Shakespeare:

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or one, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by-and-by black night doth take away,
Death's second self that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Even a 3-day weekend

isn't quite enough time to relax. Especially not since every class has something due during the three days of next week.

Life has been like a dream recently, and not in a oh-how-wonderful-and-relaxing way either. It's more like I feel like I'm sleep walking through all of it. Now, this could be due to the disruption of my sleep habits the past few nights. Whatever it is, I wish it'd stop. I want things to be perfectly normal and I want to feel perfectly stable for ever and ever amen. But, barring that, I'd like to be ridiculously happy for ever and ever amen. Or barring that, I'd like to be a ridiculous genius for ever and ever amen. Or....

Right. This is me being whiny. Feel free to give me a slap. Life, all in all, is good. Just a couple days of fighting being either really foolish and giddy or really out-of-sorts is getting a little bit old. It was probably a mistake to read those Dorothy Sayers books - all the characters end being so "shatteringly happy" that one feels quite hollow. Of course, they are fictional characters. And people are always being killed, otherwise they wouldn't all be so happy, but still. Maybe I should take up detection and investigate murders. = D

This is me being foolish. And to stop this foolish trend, I think I'll go back to my room and do homework. Because, after all, that's what weekends are for: homework. Lots of lots of it. And a little bit of running randomly around. But mostly homework.

Au revoir....

Woa-woa-woa-woah.... (je te plumerai)

I can feel....

I can feel myself stretching and growing and feeling deeper... which is wonderful and absolutely terrifying. I love to see progress - as someone told someone who told me, "That girl wants to have already arrived." Well, it's true. I do want to have already arrived. I just wish that this sudden mini-arrival was less disconcerting.

I seem to have discovered a knack for surprising myself lately. Both in writing, and in art, and in what I say without thinking about it. And in what I do without thinking about it. A lot of the things I pretended at last year are coming to fruition, at least it seems like they are. I've written something I'm actually proud of (at least for now - but it's been about two days, so who knows? I may be proud of it for a week), my work ethic has grown tremendously, I again trust (about 90% of the time) my instincts and analyzations of art and writing (I can predict my grades to within 3 points in Color & Design), learned how to revise, and learned how to study. Slacking off, well, I do that too. = D Especially this week. But I needed some time to just... I dunno, breathe again. Heaven knows those moments are so rare.

I can't believe we're halfway through the semester. Time dragged and flew all at the same time. I was reading a book the other day for Philosophy, memoirs from a concentration camp, and that's what it said too - in the concentration camp a day seems like weeks and weeks go by in a flash. Not to draw too much of a parallel between concentration camps and college; there's a world of difference. For instance, I can now use semi-colons, which they decidedly do not teach you in concentration camps.

I hope that when I grow up and am an artist I'm not one of those people who is so much in love with the idea of being an artist that they don't live in the reality of being an artist. I say this because Breon Gilleran, the author of the exhibit no art major really liked, is one of those people, and I was sorely disappointed in her explanations of herself. Mostly because she didn't really give an explanation for herself. She didn't know what she was doing - said some feminist things to excuse her concept for the show, and honestly I think her amateurish materials and crafstmanship were not intentionally that way, but because she knew no other way to make them. I also feel very strongly that you don't become an artist because you like the company, and you don't become a sculptor because there are so few females in the field and you want to change that. You become an artist because you've got a passion for it and you sculpt because you've got a passion for it. But maybe I'm being hard on her. It just seemed to me that she was much more caught up in the community of artists than in art, and in the idea of art than the art itself. She loves the thought of having a studio so much that what comes out of it matters less. I feel like (and maybe that's just me) but that's inexcusable. So I hope to goodness I don't fall into that trap, because I'd have to endure severe self-censure.

I went to talk to Professor Perrin today, and she really liked the one poem I brought to her. The one that I didn't know what to do with, so I guess I gathered up all that courage for nothing, because it was good after all and I didn't have to face failure. I did, however, submit it to the Minnemingo (today was the deadline so it was a do-or-die sort of reckless submission) so I may still have to face rejection. Anyway, I have a clear picture of what I need to do to revise it, even if I don't know exactly the means to reach my end, and I was able to defend most of it when she cross-questioned me, and it was all very good. I felt very happy, if very tired (mustering courage takes a lot of energy, as does combatting the cold. Brr!!). I cut out a few lines and changed a word and now I think I'll be able to defend it all - I just need to elaborate a few lines more, perhaps. And I'm thinking that I should try to get published this year, so maybe that's a poem to begin with....

I stopped by the library today to get a bunch of books. More than a three-day-weekend will allow, but there is fall break coming up as well, so maybe they'll tide me over till then. I'm looking forward with both anticipation and dread of so many empty, class-less hours. I'm thinking it will be an exploration weekend, and maybe a catch-up weekend, depending on how the week goes.

And now, dear friends, work is calling.... I just felt that I should ramble. Hopefully I didn't come across as an arrogant ranting perfectionist, although that may be what I am. = D

Mackenzie

Mood Ring, O Mood Ring

O tell me, will you bring the key?
To unlock this mystery....

In other words, I got a mood ring while at the Renaissance Faire... Mwahahaha! Fear the mood ring!

The ren fair was fun - super fun. Super exciting fun. It rained and was windy and freezing, but that really only got annoying towards the end of the day. At first it was just absurd. Lucy and I were the only ones who showed up for "Will Shakespeare's Auditions" so... we were the auditions. It was amazing. Especially since Lucy would quote all the lines of a conversation when he was only going to give her half of them, and then he would hop up and down and say, "Abriding! We're abriding!" And we got the long-lost "autograph" of "Will Shakespeare." Haha.

And there was a gorgeous piratical coat... which Lucy swears will soon become part of her arsenal as a professor coat. And by arsenal I mean wardrobe. = )

[yawn]

I should go do homework. So I am. Because I don't want to get saddled with a ton of stuff tomorrow.

Alas, Alack, and Lackaday.

I won't, under any circumstances, say that I'm done with my color & design homework. If I did, we all know I'd be up until 2 am finishing it. And the professor thinks I'm some sort of crazy perfectionist... whatever gave him that idea?

I am, however, done with the weaving part of my weaving project. I can say that, because I already cut it off the loom, and even if I were to decide it wasn't done yet, I couldn't do anything about it. I just have to finish off the edges, wash, and press. Coupla hours' work, and I'm done.

Saturday will be a day of adventuring to the Renaissance Faire with Lucy. Haha! Take that, thou foul feind! Avast! I'll split thee from nave to crown! Thou black-hearted varlet!

Hahaha... I make me laugh sometimes. And then I wonder why.

Romeo and Juliet, well, we'll stop there. Say no more, say no more. It is what it is and let it be done. Thankfully we're over halfway there. Only all the melodrama of dying and discovery left. Thank goodness my family life isn't that screwed up!

Writer's Cookout went well, I guess. As well as could be expected when there were crowds of people there I didn't know. And by crowds I mean about sixteen or so. I probably made an idiot of myself ten times over, and I felt quite socially unacceptable by the time I left, but ah well, such is life.... I think that if I had a male version he would be a hermit. Or surprisingly adept at social things, and I can't decide which I would hate him for more. But, "that is purely metaphysical speculation, and, like all metaphysical speculation, is profitless." Only I don't remember if the exact quote is "profitless" or not. I feel like "profitless" is much too intellectual for that character, but I forget.

Off to more Romeo and Juliet, anon dear friends, we shall meet again in peace after the suicides....

Snore.....

That's me, as soon as I get off work and done warping. And done studying philosophy. And doing devotions. And brushing my teeth and cleaning up my messes that I made today. I can't wait. I love sleep and I love my bed and I love my covers and I love that it's getting cold enough to need an extra blanket. There's something inherently wonderful about being able to curl up in tons of blankets. There's even something wonderful about jumping out into the cold in the morning. One, you can always snuggle back in the blankets for just one more minute. Two, you can reach over and grab your sweatshirt and wear that while you brush your teeth, until you get moving enough to be warm. And tea seems much more practical and needed in chilly weather.

In conclusion: I am crazy. But I like the weather.

Also in conclusion: I don't like Brian Van Gogh. He walks like he's perfect, talks like he's perfect, critiques like he's perfect, has a scholarship, and is favored by most professors.... grr. And he's not perfect.... Emily and Katie are, I feel, a match for him in most areas. Better in some like accessibility and humility. But enough. I'm not bitter, I swear.

Anyways... I'm going warping! Haha. It makes me sound like some evil villain.... warped. Totally warped.

So I Think I Found My Answer

Blessed be your name
In the land that is plentiful
Where the streams of abundance flow
Blessed be your name

Blessed be your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be your name

Every blessing you pour out,
I turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your glorious name

Blessed be your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be
Blessed be your name

Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
Oh, There's pain in the offering
Blessed be your name

Every blessing you pour out,
I turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your glorious name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to stay
Well Blessed be your name

Free Time - I Don't Remember Life That Way

I talked on the phone to Mom today, and in the background my brothers were playing around, hiding behind futons, and in general not doing their schoolwork. No homework on the weekends for them. No crazy projects keeping them up until 2 a. m. or making them miss newspaper layout. Sigh. I'd wish to go back to highschool, except that I don't think I do. Yeah, it's a heck of a lot more work here, but... to go back to high school I'd have to forget everything I've learned here, which is considerable, and most of it knowledge that I'd like to keep and improve on.

Mom and I were talking about scholarships, and the pressure they put on students. And she said that even if I lost mine, they'd still send me here and I could just pay them back half the loans later. Still pressure, but less. That, plus a nap, made me feel more optimistic about the world in general. And skipping layout, while slightly unethical, gives me hope to catch up on work that's due this week.

Oh, and I talked to my weaving partner.... I'm weaving first again. Which I like but also don't like. I like to go first so I'm not dependent on my partner to get done on time, but at the same time, since I'm going first and weaving thirty more inches than the project requires, I'm going to be spending a lot of time in the studio. She was really nice about it though and said that if I needed an extra day or two she'd be OK with that and just catch up. This week apparently exploded in her face as well, and surprisingly enough, I have less of a workload than she does. I feel sorry for her....

Eh, enough with the gabbing. The more I finish tonight, the more sane I'll be tomorrow.

Weaving Trials

I think that would be a great title for a book. "The Weaving Trials." It would be sort of like witch trials, except that the defendants would be on trial for weaving subversive messages in their cloth.

Eh, I think it would be funny anyway.

So, I turned in my weaving project today. I'm optimistically hoping for a good grade, because at least in my arrogant opinion it was one of the best in the class. Better salvages than most, the right length, not too dippy or saggy in the middle, labeled (this morning, during chapel. I hate it when you wake up to the knowledge that you forgot to do something important to a project), woven properly as far as I can tell, and most important to my mind, the colors are good. I find myself pret-ty amazed at the color combinations people chose. I hate to say they're just plain ugly, because that makes me sound snobby and self-satisfied, but honestly.... I thought some of them were just plain ugly. And I feel like that's not just me either. Kelsey definitely visited me in the weaving studio and vetoed the large majority of them. Some of them were nice color combinations, just not things I'd have chosen, but some of them.... Yeah. Stopping there. I'm really a nice person, I swear....

So now, we have to design our second weaving project. Woot woot! I'm planning on weaving a lot more than she assigned us, just because she made it flexible and I want it to look darn good on our table. So my partner is weaving first, and hopefully I'll be able to cram in enough time at the end to finish the length I want it to be rather than the length assigned to us. But I figure it's only ten more hours' work, and when you're already putting in forty.... well, it seems worth it. Plus I guess I'm getting a little cocky since I'm so proud of my first weaving project. In the meantime, while my partner is weaving, I'll be studying basketry.... Don't laugh guys. It's not funny. Underwater basket weaving is demanding. = D

Off to have some fun and do a lotsa lotsa homework,
The Subtle Nut

Woot Woot! [Cough! Cough!]

I went camping with Shannon last night down by the yellow breeches! It was hilariously fun. Especially the whole putting-up-a-strange-tent-at-one-in-the-morning-in-the-dark thing. And all the people walking by and not believing that they actually saw a tent. Plus the possibility that Campus Safety would come and yell at us or something, because I definitely feel like that's sort of not allowed. But it makes a great story.

On the downside, I woke up sick. We got up early because Shannon has an 8 o'clock, and took down the tent and brushed our teeth in Climenhaga, and then I went back to my room and slept through chapel. I'm not feeling like crap quite yet, just sort of funny with my voice sort-of leaving me and I think a low-grade fever. But I took some medicine and feel much better, and tomorrow is Cake Day, so I'm optimistic.

Cake on.

PS If anyone knows of any ways our belief in God as a trinity has any practical applications in our view of how God works in the world, please tell me. I'm driving myself nuts over this theology assignment, and I can only think of one or two things.

Talk Like A Pirate Day

Well, I suppose that's it then. I'm nineteen. No more prevaricating or procrastinating - you cannot slow the pass of time. The last teen year. Everyone seems to think I should be so super excited. I don't know. I haven't been dealing with change very well this year, so even though I had a good birth day, I'm not so sure about this birthdays-without-families thing. It seems like just another form of upheaval to me, one which I'd prefer to avoid. Actually, I'd prefer to avoid all upheaval and stress and just sleep all the time, for at least the next week. I don't even feel like doing the things I like doing. I just want to do nothing.

This attitude could have to do with the fact that I got less sleep last night than I normally do, which always makes me maudlin, and also that I'm having a rather big fight with God right now. Which is also why I got less sleep. I say that as if he yells and hits back, but he really doesn't. It's like shadow boxing, but even dumber than that, because I can't see a shadow. It's completely dumb to try to pick a fight with the omnipotent omniscient all-wise and all-good ruler of the universe, but hey, I've never been known for intelligence. I also seem to think that God values honesty. Of course, he generally makes you feel dumber than dirt after your honesty, because he obviously knows best. Grr.

I don't mean to make this a forum for all my spiritual grumblings. I really did have a good day today. I had dinner at the union with my piratical friends, who have amazingly great piratitude. I got a package from home and a package from my grandparents in Indiana, and a package from my grandparents in Alabama - Apples to Apples, if anyone's interested in playing. I turned in my Color & Design project, which, at a guess, was definitely in the top ten best of the class.... One girl at least thought in the top four. So maybe I'll get an A- and redeem my previous project. I had to do a self-critique of that project in my sketchbook, which I titled "Little Squares Class - The Story of One Student's Spontaneous Head Explosion." It was particularly effective because I wrote it on the page that had kiwi guts on it, which I labeled as pieces of my head. Either it'll make the prof laugh or he'll think I'm incurably childish. I'm hoping for the former, although I believe I do display signs of being incurably childish.

In English 108, we talked about Williams' Little Red Wheelbarrow poem. One person actually suggested that the red wheelbarrow stood for the earth and food and everything we need that way, and the rain stood for water which we need to live, and the white chickens stood for companionship and fellowship which we also need in order to live. And then somehow managed to equate that with world hunger, and how Williams was preaching against it. Is anyone else completely flabbergasted by this? I swear. I was so angry, I raised my hand and said "All I really get from the poem is a sense of loss. Maybe he just found an image that completely embodied and captured that loss and is using to communicate it to us - just the loss. Maybe that's all it is." The prof wasn't particularly impressed with either of us, except that she said I was right about the loss. I just feel like sometimes you have to let it be what it is - just let it be. No poet in his right mind is going to be consciously trying to communicate everything we analyze out of their poems, or consciously using so many literary devices. Let them be and stop hounding them. Take it as something beautiful without having to pick it apart all the time. Williams' wheelbarrow poem is, I swear, the most easily and often maligned in the english language.

That is my english rant.

Now for another rant:

No, just kidding. I ran out of rants.

So much depends upon
a red wheelbarrow

glazed with rain water

beside the
white chickens.

Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all night.

Or I might just be sleeping.

I love that I have both a roommate and a loommate.

I guess I should update, since it's been a couple of days. But I'm really tired, so here's a quick synopsis only, rather than all that deep thinky sort of thing, which I'm actually not all that good at.

Went swimming in the breeches with Shannon today. Birthday camping trip planned, and annual swim-the-breeches event entered into Shannon's cell phone calendar. Assuming she keeps the same phone till next year on September 15, we're good to go.

Have officially woven twenty-four inches. Slightly over a third of where I need to be. But I feel like I'm making great progress, getting the hang of it, and weaving like a maniac. Or a demon. Or it could actually be that I get lost in contemplation of the beauty which is my weaving and actually forget to weave. Or not. At first I liked the colors I got OK - then I got excited about them, then I hated them. Now I love them. They're trippy. And by trippy, I mean they totally remind me of really early sixties-ish home decor colors. That's assuming I don't have the wrong decade in mind again. I keep confusing the sixties and seventies. But I'm pretty sure it's the sixties. I'll have to post a picture of it when I'm done so you can understand what I'm talking about.

I think progressively less as I write my glosses. This could be a bad thing, but I prefer to see it as a positive. It might be that I'm getting better at analyzing and writing incoherently about poetry. Or it could just be that I'm getting better at making things up.

I started the dragon lady story today. I'm excited to see where that goes. And to see what people think of my story at the next meeting, but I sort of think half the people won't have done it, and the people that have.... won't really have any suggestions. Or that half the people (most probably Sharon and Joel) will absolutely hate it, half will be depressed by it, or inspired to pity me or something (Lucy and Matt), and Liz will probably.... No, I find it hard to predict Liz. So there it is: my predictions for the next meeting, down in writing. Tease me mercilessly if I am wrong. Or place bets. Whichever you prefer.

Woot Woot!

Or maybe I should say, "Shuttle shuttle!" Because I've actually learned how to weave. The bad part is, I have four and a half days to weave two yards. She's given us half as long to actually weave as she gave us to dress the loom. Crap. But hey, I'll just live down there for the next couple days, and everything will be OK, right? And my friends said they'd bring me cookies.... I estimate I'll only have to spend eighteen hours down there in the next four and a half days. Only.

I'm going to dinner with Shannon on Thursday, so that should be cool. I haven't really had a chance to sit down and talk with her, since I only see her rushing in between classes.

Due to the large amounts of me being spammed, I turned word verification on. Basically what I think that means: when you go to comment, a slightly distorted word will appear, and you'll have to type it in correctly, which apparently computer can't or aren't supposed to be able to do.

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

Picture this: a typical diner of uncertain age - slightly rundown, very out of fashion. The bright red leather booth cushions are fading, some of them tearing. The black-and-white checked linoleum floors are dirty, despite the vigourous cleaning Charlie, the proprietor, gives them every night. The windows are perpetually grimy from small hands, and the lighting is harshly flourescent. Everyone in town comes to this diner sooner or later. Some literally sleep there, and Charlie mops around their inert forms. The food isn't that great, but Charlie offers one specialty, highly prized throughout the state.

A customer approaches the counter with a meaningful look on his face, intending, no doubt, to order this specialty. He's an intelligent looking man wearing a business suit and an air screaming "Salesman!"

"Hey," he says jovially, with the overly-familiar air of all good salesmen. "One God-in-a-box to go, Charlie. Got a busy day today."

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

"I'm not crazy about hell."
- Prof Baker

"Have you seen thr Little Mermaid? I think you got that from the Little Mermaid."
- One of my classmates, to Prof Baker, about a picture supposed to be depicting the rapture.

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

An innocent young girl has started an e-mail account. She checks it regularly. One day, she sees a message from her best friend, with the subject saying, "Something Special Just for You (and Everyone You Know)." Inside, the e-mail says:

"Thinking about opening this e-mail? I wouldn't. It contains a deadly virus which will utterly obliterate your computer, while passing smallpox on to you and all your friends."

The young girl never used the internet again.

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Well then, I suppose I'll go to work and do my other homework, besides weaving. And maybe I'll even sleep tonight, who knows?