Heh.


Mysterious, elegant, creative and calmYou are a sprite of the Water. Creative and one of
the most beautiful of sprites, you strike
wonder and curiosity into the hearts and minds
of all. Even though you are capable of
attraction and seduction you are way above all
that, you understand the true meaning of life
and are very open and understanding of life's
mysteries, most likely you are one of them. You
are respectful of all ways of life and do not
judge one due to their position or station in
life. You are gifted in the ways of
understanding and given the chance are usually
full of good, wise advice but your not the type
to take the stand and express such things. Your
laid back nature can be troubling, you don't
take many risks and prefer to keep things as
they are. You are one of the most unique of
sprites.

.::=What type of Mythical Sprite are you?=::. -With Anime Pictures and detailed answers-
brought to you by

Thinking

My priest said something the other night that made me think.

A group of us were gathered at a parishoner's house for our monthly meeting; the bishop had planned to join us, but had had to back out at the last minute. We met anyway, and our priest spent most of the time telling pastoral stories (which I love to hear.)

At one point, someone asked him what he thought the theme of his ministry was, or the things he emphasized, or something like that. He thought for a moment and said, among other things, that one gift he really did have was a deep and profound respect for women, as images of the Virgin Mary, as well as for themselves. He said that he loved the innocence and purity that is apropos to women, and that the thing that made him more mad than anything else was a person who would do anything to damage those virtues.

I've been thinking about that all week. I hadn't really realized it, but that is one of the things I like best about my priest. He respects me not just as a person, but as a woman. I appreciate that he treats the women in the congregation as women, not just parishoners. Oh dear, this is not sounding quite right...Hmm.

He was one of the first ones that I told about my decision to be content with singleness, and has always been one of the biggest supporters of that decision. His comment the other night gave me a tiny, faint, glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he might see a little tiny bit of the Holy Virgin, role model and patron of all women, in me. Maybe? I hope so. I want to be more like her. And I'm glad that there's someone out there who wants that for me, as well.

Atlas Shrugged

I am re-reading this book. I don't know why I like it, really. The characters are sort of compelling, but not very. You've really only got two types of characters, and only little tiny variations in each individual. The book is FAR too preachy, almost to the point of being unreadable.

But I still get fascinated by it. Maybe it's because I think Ayn Rand is right about some things. I learned some interesting economic things by reading Atlas Shrugged. It confirmed a lot of things I'd been told, but did a better job of explaining them. For instance, I'd always been told that big government was not a good idea, and that it wrecked businesses. I didn't really understand that, until I saw it play out in the book.

But I know there's got to be a flaw in her arguments somewhere. She applies the same system to morality as she does to economics, and there's where it seems to break down. She's built up a lot of straw men for Christianity and religion in general, and it's not too hard to argue against that...but I feel there's still something I can't quite put my finger on.

Lent

Lent is coming up again. And again, I take a slightly perverse pleasure in the fact that Valentine's Day occurs during Lent. So much for giving your sweetie a box of chocolates!

But that aside...I'm kind of looking forward to Lent. I don't like giving stuff up, but I know it's a good thing to do, and I always do feel better afterwards. Not that it's about feeling better because it isn't, but still.

I wish I'd taken the time to focus on Christmas this year. Christmas and Advent in general are times to remember Christ's first coming, and look forward to His coming again in power and great glory. But I lost focus this year, as every year. Lent is easier because the preperation time is longer, and I spend the whole time with my church family, instead of spending half my time in a different and unfamiliar church. On top of that, there's my whole tendency to have a melancholy disposition. So I generally tend to like this whole season.

Besides, Easter means so much more when you've spent 40 days not singing "allelujahs" or seeing the crucifix, and then, on Good Friday, when the last of the Sacrament is consumed, the church is stripped, and left barren...That's hard to see. But then, on Easter, when the small Paschal fire is lit in the darkness, and we all pass quietly into the church with our lights. Our own little lights, not really enough for us to see by, and certainly not enough for anybody else to see by. But then, suddenly, the choir bursts into joyful song, all the lights are turned on full blast, and bells everywhere start to ring! He is risen!

But right now it's almost Lent, time to be quiet and think. The Resurrection comes, and will come to all who abide in Him, but it is not yet. Now is the time for quiet.

Selah.

You know what two of the best songs in the world are?

Sweet Home Alabama
Joy to the World (Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog)

Yep. Good songs.

A Belated Grateful Farewell


I know that no-one to whom this is directed will ever read this blog. But I need to say it anyway:

Five Iron Frenzy, thank you. For all the years that you gave us good, fun music, thank you. For all the songs that made us laugh, thank you. For all the insane bonus tracks and live goofs, thank you.

To those of you who don't know who or what Five Iron Frenzy is, let me explain.

Five Iron Frenzy is a Christian ska band that specialized in silly songs (such as the These Are Not My Pants rock opera) juxtaposed with incredibly insightful songs (such as Every New Day). They played for years, and got better all the time. They were very real, about the good things and the bad things.

I wrote them a letter after my first year in college, thanking them for their music. A member of the band wrote back to me several times, and even e-mailed me once or twice. They are good people, with a crazy sense of humor.

Their last tour has been over for a while now. The band Five Iron Frenzy, technically, no longer exists. But I sit here in the library, listening to a live track from their last tour.

They were singing the song Every New Day:

When I was young, the smallest trick of light,
Could catch my eye,
Then life was new and every new day,
I thought that I could fly.
I believed in what I hoped for,
And I hoped for things unseen,
I had wings and dreams could soar,
I just don't feel like flying anymore.
When the stars threw down their spears,
Watered Heaven with their tears,
Before words were spoken,
Before eternity.

Dear Father, I need you,
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
Every new day again.

When I was small, the furthest I could reach,
Was not so high,
Then I thought the world was so much smaller,
Feeling that I could fly.
Through distant deeps and skies,
Behind infinity,
Below the face of Heaven,
He stoops to create me.

Dear Father, I need you,
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
Every new day again.

You are not alone
You are not alone
You are not alone
You were never alone.

Man versus himself.
Man versus machine.
Man versus the world.
Mankind versus me.
The struggles go on,
The wisdom I lack,
The burdens keep pilling
Up on my back.
So hard to breathe,
To take the next step.
The mountain is high,
I wait in the depths.
Yearning for grace,
And hoping for peace.
Dear God...Increase.

Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again.
Jesus Christ, light of the world burning bright within our hearts forever.
Freedom means love without condition,without a beginning or an end.
Here's my heart, let it be forever Your's,
Only You can make every new day seem so new.

At the end, the crowd--knowing that the end was near--simply began chanting "Thank you," over and over again. The band ended the song, and slowly moved into "Amazing Grace." Then the lead singer, Reese, began to talk about ending, and passing on the mantle to the next generation. Then, mentioning the snow falling outside, the track ended with Five Iron Frenzy and the concert crowd singing "Silent Night."

Thank you, FIF. We will miss you. A bright spark of humor and insight has passed.

I want to grow up to be her.

From The King's Business, Vol. 12, January 1921. Pages 21-25

Making the Most of Life: A Tribute to the Memory of Mrs. T.C.Horton Who Departed October 10th.

"To be with Christ is far, far better." --Phil. 1:23

On Sunday evening, October 10, 1920, just as the sun was fading from sight, and the people were gathering for the regular weekly Twilight Communion Service in the Church of the Open Door, a little woman closed her eyes and slipped away in obedience to the call of her Master-- "Well done, thou good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of the Lord."

The announcement of her home-going, which was made a few hours later to the vast congregation assembled for evening worship in the auditorium, brought a sense of shock and personal loss to those of the audience who were privileged to know her--and these were many. When on the following Tuesday her friends gathered to look for the last time on her loved face, they came, not by hundreds, but literally by thousands--a great company--sorrowing not as those who have no hope, but rejoicing in the coronation of a life of loving service.

Who was she and what had she done to merit such a demonstration in her honor? Just a modest, retiring, homeloving little woman, who--having first given her own self to the Lord--had heard his call for service and answered "Here am I." Truly it was for others that she lived, giving unstintedly of her time, her strength, her effort, and her heart's love to those with any sort of need, from the highest to the lowest, rich and poor, wise and ignorant, with no thought of commendation or reward, actuated only by the constraining love of Christ.
How wonderfully does her life attest to the truth of that saying of the Lord Jesus, "Faithful in that which is least--faithful also in much." It was ever her way to "do the next thing," no matter how seemingly unimportant, thus preparing the way for the larger service which was given her, the influence of which has been felt in almost every nation of the world, through the women and girls who, inspired by her life, her teaching and her example, have been led to dedicate themselves to the service of Christ.

Her Earlier Life

"Mother" Horton was born some sixty-eight years ago in Rome, N.Y. Early environment had little to do in influencing her to choose the path of self-sacrificing devotion to Christ,--for, though surrounded by every comfort and advantage that a loving father and mother could provice, hers was a Universalist home, where the latch string was always out for ministers of that faith, and she attended a Universalist college, giving the valedictory address at her graduation.

But "God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to perform," and He has His own way of bringing His purposes to pass. Little Anna Kingsbury (for that was her maiden name) was extremely musical, and when she attended the Universalist church always played the organ. But the church was small and often no meetings were held in it, and at such times her services as an organist were in demand at the Presbyterian church. She was not "between two fires," for there was no fire in the sermons preached in the Universalist church, but in the Presbyterian church there was a good, old-fashioned preacher whose sermons--founded upon the Word of God--made the soul of the young girl restless until she sought and found Him who is "the Way, the Truth, and the Life."

Moving later to Indianapolis, she met a young business man, lately converted, Mr. Thomas C. Horton, who had responded to a call (as she herself had) for workers in a little Presbyterian Mission. Her husband says of her: "I saw her first on her own doorstep, as I happened to pass by her home, and never forgot her face. In the mission I saw her at the organ, and the services there suddenly became very attractive to me, especially the organ music. She was engaged at that time to marry a young Presbyterian minister but her father was opposed to the match, and I used my utmost endeavors to persuade her that it would be better to marry a business man than a minister, and was finally successful."

Mrs. Horton had a fine well-trained mezzo-soprano voice, and had been singing in a quartet in the leading Episcopal church of Indianapolis. Continuing their work in the mission, she taught a class of boys, and her husband took charge of the Primary (or as it was then called, the "Infant") Department of the Sunday School, where they spent many happy years, learning to do things by doing them.

With a cultured mind, practical ability, and a rarely unselfish devotion, this little woman grew in knowledge and in wisdom. Blessed with unusually good health, she gave not only the proper attention to the duties of the home, but gave instruction upon the organ (having many free pupils), and made her home a rendezvous for young people where they could come in touch with a happy, healthy, normal Christian atmosphere.

Unfolding of God’s Plan

The gradual unfolding of the plan of God for the lives of these two is seen in the call which came to Mr. Horton to take up the work of the secretaryship of the Y.M.C.A. which he accepted, although without any previous knowledge of definite Christian work, and with not much knowledge of the Bible. Following a successful term of service here, in which she was ever the constant helpmate of her husband, the family removed to St. Paul where Mr. Horton (having in the meantime fitted himself for the ministry and having been ordained in the Presbyterian Church), organized and ministered to a church of that denomination. Here, as always, Mrs. Horton had a large share in the work, teaching a splendid class of young boys.

In her home there were now four earnest daughters growing into Christian womanhood. The eldest, Jessie, who had dedicated her life to God for work in the foreign field, and expected to go to China as a missionary, was taken to be with her Lord at the age of twenty-four.

Later a call came to Mr. Horton from an important field in Philadelphia, where for four years he was Associate Pastor of the Bethany Presbyterian Church, of which Dr. Arthur T. Pierson was pastor, and John Wanamaker was Superintendent of the Sunday School. Here Mrs. Horton did a great work among the women and young girls, gaining the experience and knowledge which were afterwards so helpful to her in her work with the Lyceum Club and the Bible Women’s Department in the Bible Institute of Los Angeles.

In Dallas, Texas, where Mr. Horton was called to succeed Dr. C.I. Scofield as pastor of the First Congregational Church, Mrs. Horton, besides efficiently discharging the many and varied duties ordinarily devolving upon a pastor’s wife, organized and taught a class of boys, many of whom are now engaged in different forms of Christian work,-- one a missionary in Central America, another in charge of Christian Endeavor work for the Southwestern Territory, etc.

In January, 1906, the family came to Los Angeles in response to a call from the Immanuel Presbyterian Church, of which Mr. Horton became assistant Pastor. Mrs. Horton organized a woman’s class called the Eulogia Bible Class, which is still in existence, and has communicated with the family with the following words of comfort: "We feel the loss of a dear Christian friend and teacher, who was the founder of our Bible class almost fifteen years ago, and because of whose influence we are still endeavoring to reach a higher, nobler Christian life."

The Lyceum Club

With a heart full of love and sympathy for working girls, Mrs. Horton organized a club, which met in the Fifth Street Store, at the request of Mr. D.H. Steele, who was manager of the store at that time. To this organization she gave the name of Lyceum Club. Girls from the stores and business houses met one evening each week for Christian fellowship, a supper together, and a simple, practical, Bible lesson, dismissing at an early hour. This plan for the evening’s activities has never been changed. For a number of years after the organization of the Lyceum Club, Mrs. Horton took charge of the suppers served each week to this large company of girls, doing a large share of the work with her own hands. No task was ever too small for her to perform for the dear girls whom she loved so well.

Two years ago, because of failing health, Mrs. Horton gave up the teaching of this Club, but has always been its leader, and a true "Mother" to the girls. To many of them she was the only mother they knew. She had a real mother heart, and would remain frequently until a late hour, in order to bring comfort to the hearts of the sad girls, strength to the weak and disheartened, and the knowledge of Jesus Christ as Lord to those who did not know Him.

The attendance at the Lyceum Club today ranges from one hundred and seventy-five to two hundred and fifty. Thousands of lives have been touched through this work. Many of the girls have entered the Bible Institute and have gone to the foreign field, fully equipped missionaries, while many other have engaged in church work in the home land. Scarcely a Tuesday evening passes without one or more girls accepting the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal Savior. The Fishermen’s Club for young men, organized by Mr. Horton, together with the Lyceum Club, formed the nucleus of the Bible Institute of Los Angeles.

Bible Women’s Work

Inspired by the Zenana work of India, and as a result of a deeply felt need of reaching women in their homes in our own land, Mrs. Horton was used of God to institute her Bible Women’s work. Since the organization of the work in 1909 this band of devoted women have spent one entire morning each week in counsel and prayer. The rest of their time is devoted to meeting the needs of women as God may lead, visiting in the homes, teaching Bible classes, and administering comfort and help. God has wonderfully blessed this work, which is all done to His glory. This work began with three Bible women. Today the circle has grown to seventeen Bible women and five volunteer workers. God gave to Mrs. Horton a rare gift of discernment, and the band of women whom she gathered around her we believe cannot be excelled for ability in their work and consecration to God.

Feeling very strongly the need of reaching the girls for God at as early an age as possible, Mrs. Horton about ten years ago organized the work among High School girls. For a number of years weekly Bible classes have been held in some home or church near the schools, the number of classes varying from ten to twenty each week. There are now fifteen such classes in connection with the High and Intermediate schools of Los Angeles and vicinity. These classes gather together two or three times a year for a rally or for a social time together. The organization as a whole is known as the Euodia Club, --Euodia meaning fragrance—and the motto is, "Be fragrant for Christ." A number of these girls have become Institute students, and some are already engaged in definite Christian work.

The Funeral Services

The funeral services for Mrs. Horton were held in the main auditorium of the Bible Institute in the presence of a multitude of friends. Rev. Robert A. Hadden, an old time friend of the family, preached the funeral sermon. Dr. J.R. Pratt and Rev. Ralph Atkinson offered prayers , and solos were sung by Mr. C.M. Brooks and Mrs. Corinne Smith. Mrs. Smith sang the old hymn, "There Is Never a Day So Dreary." This same hymn was sung at funeral of Jessie Horton, Mrs. Horton herself playing the organ accompaniment. The Bible Institute male quartet also sang a beautiful hymn and the Bible Institute chimes during the service played "Rock of Ages," "Trust and Obey," and the Doxology. The whole service was very helpful and inspiring. Those who acted as pall-bearers were Mr. H.H. Fulton, Mr. J.P. Welles, Mr. C.L. Wells, Mr. J.M. Irvine, Mr. A.J. Johnson and Rev. J.H. Hunter.

By the time the great company of people had passed the casket to take their farewell look at their beloved friend, the hour was very late. Just at dusk, as the sun had set and the evening star appeared, her family and friends laid her away in Forest Lawn Cemetery. A brief but most beautiful and impressive service was held, closing with the following verse sung softly by the assembled friends:

"Sleep on, thou weary one, and take thy rest;
And lay thy head upon the Savior’s breast.
We love thee much, but Jesus loves thee best.
Sleep on, sleep on, sleep on."

Tributes From Loving Friends

"We all feel that Heaven has been brought a bit nearer and its ties made stronger by her departure to be with her Lord, whom she loved and served so faithfully. Many of us remember her many years’ of untiring devotion and service for the Lord as a mother to the Fishermen fellows, and now she rests from her labors, and her works do follow her."

"We think of how much ‘Mother’ Horton has gained to be in the glory and how we rejoice also to think of her life of devotion, of service, of hardship, of unselfishness and love for Him, and the work of the Gospel. How we envy her record and how glad we are to know what rich reward is awaiting her up there…Life is poorer without her, yet so much richer than before we knew her. She truly choose the best part—to live for Him, to serve Him in deep, true devotion, and to make her life count in the salvation of souls everywhere."

"Truly ‘Aunt Anna’ was a remarkable woman, and I cannot help but feel that she was an eye-witness to the scenes of today (the funeral services). I do not suppose, however, that it was worthy of mention compared to the demonstration Sunday evening when she entered the glory on the other side. I felt as though we were at the very gates of Heaven today, and wish that we might all have gone in."

"I cannot refrain from telling you how much Mrs. Horton has meant to my life. Ever since my arrival in Los Angeles she has addressed me as ‘Sonny’ and on several occasions introduced me to strangers as ‘her son,’ much to their surprise. But I was her son and she was my mother in a way she little realized for her sweet ways were constantly reminding me of my own dear mother who went to be with the Lord some years ago. She was always saying a word of encouragement to me just at the time when I most needed it, although she may not have known it. No one will miss her more than I."

"It was indeed ‘Christ for her to live.’ Her service was her ‘ruling passion,’ and now what must this gain of higher, untrammeled, all perfect service be to her, as she beholds the King in His beauty."

New Story(?)

I'm thinking of starting a new story. No worries, it won't be anywhere near as long as the last one! But it'd be a decent length. So please be patient if the next few posts are simply my rambling thoughts attempting to coalesce into something resembling a story.

_____________

I am unable to decide whether I've been blessed or cursed. The information could be interpreted both ways. I am from Appalachian folk on my father's side, and hardy Norwegian stock on my mother's side. Now, those of you who know only one culture or the other (or neither) may wonder why this could be taken as a curse. Well, the Appalachian side of me likes to take it easy, enjoy life as it goes by, and avoid hard work when convenient. The Norwegian blood, however, is a different story. You ever wonder what happened to the Vikings? I used to. The modern Norwegians are rather stolid and unemotional, especially when compared to their forebears. I finally got it figured out. When they stopped their rampaging, all that fire and anger got turned inwards. This festered for years and finally turned into the Scandinavian guilt that all of us Norskies are so familiar with today. So when the warm Southern blood in me gets sluggish and wants to take time to smell the roses, that cold Norwegian vein pumps in a good load of guilt, and I freeze, unsure of where to go and unable to enjoy the place I'm in.
But both bloodlines balance themselves out a little, and sometimes work together. I got a double dose of wanderlust from my Scotch-Irish Appalachian roots when they mixed with that Viking blood. I'm a decently hard worker, but I can never work a job for very long. Every so often, that road just looks so tempting, and even the inner guilt isn't enough to stop this Southern Viking from wandering down it, in search of something better, or worse, of just plain different.
I've done alright for myself. I work enough to keep soul and body together. I never was much good at anything in particular, but I was decent at lots of middling things. I work whatever temporary jobs I can find, and have done some strange things in my time. I guess it's a little bit of an exaggeration to say that I'm not good at anything. I am, in fact, excellent at wandering. I can sleep in any location, find food in the midst of a desert, and work any job that doesn't tie me down. I must have run away from home a hundred times when I was a kid. My mother was confused, since I tended to run away quite cheerfully, with no grudge against anyone. My dad never could quite see why I'd want to go to all that trouble. But I guess when it turned out that running was the only thing I was good at, I decided to make a lifestyle of it. After all, there aren't too many people who seen all the things I've seen. And who knows, maybe those things needed someone like me to come along, someone who would see and appreciate them.
-------------------------

Ok, so not the most interesting beginning, I grant you. But some of the things that come along are interesting...

Hats are wonderful. My philosophy on hats: if you look good in hats, and you have a really cool hat, wear it. Forget about what's in style, just wear the darned hat.

(Translation: Joi, who looks good in hats, has just been given two vintage hats, complete with hat pins. Joi is very happy with the hats, and wears them a lot, even though it looks like she just stepped out of the 1950's. Joi doesn't care, and wears the hats anyway.)

Why So Lonely?

Why am I so lonely these past few days? Some of it is probably just the normal upset of having been away too long, and coming back. But still...2 of my roommates are getting married this summer, and so will be moving out, and the other two want different housing (well, one's undecided, but that's kind of how it looks right now).
I don't want to do this again. Every few years, all my friends move away at once, and I have to start all over again. I'm all for reaching out and making new friends, but I don't want this drastic turnover of community anymore. I want friends that will stick around, or at the very least, try to maintain the friendship. I understand that friendships change; but I've never had a steady friend for more than a few years, and I want that to change.
I envy people who have friends they've known since childhood. I have one or two friends from high school that I talk to once a year or so. That's it. And my college friendships are turning out that way, too, and I don't know why. It's never anything drastic, just a slow drifting towards other friends and interests.
I'm just tired of making friends in order to go through the pain of losing them. I don't want to do that anymore.

I have always wondered why people of little or no faith seem to turn to God or spirituality in times of distress. The dismissal of this phenomenon by skeptics—as merely an irrational act of desperation—has always disturbed me, because I have always assumed that to be a good explanation. But I ran across a paragraph in one of my favorite books that made me stop and think.

The book is Many Waters, by Madeleine L’Engle. Twins, named Sandy and Dennys, have landed themselves on the pre-flood Earth, a world where unicorns (like quanta) have a tendency towards life, but have to be believed in to be. Here’s the quote:

“Dennys, he remembered, had summoned a unicorn after Tiglah’s father and brother had nearly killed him, dumping him into the garbage pit. It wasn’t easy for Dennys to believe in unicorns either, but when he had to, he did.”

Allow me to switch topics for a moment: I promise to come back to this idea, and I promise that my tangent is relevant.

I grew up reading Reader’s Digest. My favorite thing to read, as a kid, were the Drama in Real Life stories. Many of them, if not most, contained stories of people doing extraordinary things in times of desperation. Some of them were feats of strength—lifting cars off of babies and the like—of which they would not have been capable under normal conditions. The others were actions that seemed irrational, but later proved to have been the only thing that could have saved the day. The only reason it had seemed irrational was that not all the information was available to the person at the time of the distress. In fact, the idea of lifting a car off one’s child also seems irrational, in that most people are not capable of such feats of strength in day-to-day life. However, the irrational urge to lift the car is known to be the only way to save the child, and so it is accomplished.

Now, imagine that faith in God or the supernatural is not, in fact, subjective or irrational. Perhaps some people—many people, even—are not normally capable of these moments of faith. However, in times of distress, they are able to achieve faith when it might seem irrational or impossible.

Faith, then, is an act, an objective thing that takes strength to accomplish. And sometimes, when we are at the end of ourselves, we are granted the ability to have faith.

I heard this sung around New Year's many years ago. It's a simple poem, sung to the tune of Auld Lang Syne.

I'm thinking about it now, because a guy I knew in grade school recently committed suicide. He was handsome, popular, recently married, and highly intelligent. No-one knows why he did it. I saw his picture in an old yearbook the other day, still smiling and happy.

Here's the song.

"It singeth low in every heart,
We hear it each and all,
A song of those who answer not
However we may call.
They throng the silence of the breast,
We see them as of yore,
The kind, the brave, the true, the sweet,
Who walk with us no more.

'Tis hard to take the burden up
When these have laid it down.
They brightened every joy of life,
They softened every frown.
But oh, 'tis good to think of them
When we are troubled sore;
Thanks be to God that such have been,
Though they are here no more.

More homelike seems the vast unknown
Since they have entered there;
'Tis not so hard to follow them,
However they may fare.
They cannot be where God is not,
On any sea or shore;
Whate'er betides,Thy love abides,
Our God, forevermore."

Happy New Year, and may the lessons of the old year never leave us.

Survey courtesy of Liz's resume: luminarumbra.blogspot.com

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
01. Joi
02. Joi-to-the-Weaver
03. Betsy (only to family)

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
01. Angeltread
02. B8tsyJoi
03. LoneJedi

THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
01. The fact that no-one can figure out what color to call my hair and eyes
02. my refusal to settle for cookie-cutter fashion
03. my reading speed

THREE THINGS YOU HATE ABOUT YOURSELF:
01. The fact that no-one can figure out what color to call my hair and eyes
02. my impatience
03. my lack of interpersonal communication skills

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
01. Norwegian
02. Norwegian
03. Texan

THREE THINGS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND:
01. chemistry
02. why smart guys go for astounding stupid girls(and vice versa)
03. people who assume that they are absolutely right and everyone needs to become JUST LIKE THEM!

THREE THINGS THAT ANNOY YOU:
01. people who assume that they are absolutely right and everyone needs to become JUST LIKE THEM!
02. People who use the same slang expression OVER AND OVER
03. People who cannot take their headphones off for one minute to have a normal interaction with another person. (same goes for cell phones)

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
01. vulnerability
02. tornadoes
03. talking to condescending people

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
01. Reading
02. E-mail
03. insanity

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
01. Favorite purple slouchy sweater
02. black pants
03. Torrey ring

THREE THINGS ON YOUR DESK:
01. Bills
02. cards
03. ink set

THREE THINGS YOU SAY THE MOST:
01."Drat!"
02. "Stupid art department!"
03. "I need a cat."

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS/MUSICAL ARTISTS AT THE MOMENT:(in no particular order)
01. Jason Mraz
02. Billy Joel
03. The Beach Boys

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITES SONGS AT THE MOMENT:(again, in no particular order)
01. Semi-Chamed Life
02. 1985
03. Curbside Prophet

THREE PEOPLE YOU SPEND THE MOST TIME WITH:
01. Roommate Rachel
02. Roommate Liz
03. Roommate Marcy

THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOUR CLOSE FRIENDS:
01. Um...insanity. I have insane friends.
02.The ability to thouroughly enjoy brainless TV shows (Alias, Babylon 5, Stargate...)
03. They like fantasy/sci-fi and agree that it's a god genre

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE LIQUIDS:
01. Mercury (it just looks cool, all silvery and stuff)
02. Trader Joe's hot chocolate/mocha stuff. Yum!
03. Water: it's so versatile!

THREE FAVORITE CHARACTERS OF LITERATURE:
01. Amberle (Elfstones of Shannara)
02. Aragorn
03. Alyosha Karamazov

THREE FAVORITE FOODS:
01. chocolate
02. muenster cheese
03. bread

THREE THINGS YOU WOULD WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
01. humor
02. acceptance
03. chivalry

THREE THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:

01. When they try to be chivalrous. it's cute
02. when they stand up for something
03. when they protect someone else

THREE WORDS THAT DESCRIBE YOUR GENRE:
01. Bohemian
02. unique
03. artsy

THREE THINGS THAT STAND OUT IN YOUR SPACE:
01. My stuffed cat Fred
02. the incredible mess
03. My handmade clothes

THREE THINGS YOU CAN'T DO:
01. lick my elbow
02. whistle
03. watch the scene in Hary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets when Ron is puking up slugs.

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
01. making clothes
02.making things
03. learning about Anglicanism

THREE THINGS YOU WANT REALLY BAD RIGHT NOW:
01. a degree
02. a job
03. a cat

THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
01. writer (fiction and non-)
02. bookseller
03. fashion design

THREE WORDS THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
01. dreamscape
02. rutabaga
03. coalesce

THREE PLACES YOU WOULD GO ON VACATION:
01. Scotland
02. Norway
03. Hawaii

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
01. Go overseas
02. get a book published
03. meet a favorite author

A Series of Unfortunate Events

A disclaimer: I have not read these books, and so cannot comment on them. My comments are restricted to the film.

My family went to see A Series of Unfortunate Events tonight(hereafter called ASUE). I must confess I was extremely bored by the film. It was visually fascinating, but managed to remain mind-numbing. Why?

Evil triumphing over good isnot so much sad as it is boring. The story seems to show that hard work, ingenuity, and goodness don't really serve any purpose, and can be trumped by evil or sheer randomness. A little of that in a story is good, reflects some parts of reality, and imparts pathos. But a storyline consisting of nothing else is a tremendously dull story.

One of the most notable things I felt during ASUE was a feeling of profound apathy during the more "heroic" parts: you knew that it was all going to turn out badly, and so you no longer cared how brave or creative the Baudlaire orphans were. Even at the end of the movie, when the viewer is somewhat assured of a happy ending, the viewer no longer believes it, or even cares.

A story that inspires only apathy towards heroism, nobility, and courage is a bad story, and the better is is in technique--ASUE is visually delightful--the worse it is.

ASUE is supposed to be funny, and sometimes it is, but the humor seems to me to be misdirected. Again, we are already trained to laugh at most virtues; do we really need more encouragement to do so?

Do we now prefer unhappiness to happiness? Do we find joy too difficult to believe? Do we really think the universe to be so meaningless?

We should ask ourselves the same question Christ asked the crippled man: "Do you want to be healed?" Do we? Do we want joy, courage, ingenuity, nobleness, and heroism? Or do we prefer angst, cowardice, lack of creativity, meanness, and cynicism?

Do we want to be happy?

These were my thoughts about the film. I do not know if they are correct, or if I am misinterpreting the movie. But I do know this: I would rather watch good triumph over evil in a "simplistic" story, than see random chance and evil prevail, even if it makes me laugh.

"Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things - trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up thing seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia."

----Puddleglum, to the Green Lady. The Silver Chair


I'm going to go watch Return of the King.

CHRISTMAS EVE GIFT!!

All Reading and No Socializing Makes Joi A Happy Girl

Best thing about Christmas break so far? Finding a giant (over 800 pages!) book of Ray Bradbury stories, most of which are new to me.

Happy happy Joi...

(ok, yes, being home with the family and the cat is great. But I really like this book, too.)

Failure

What makes something/someone a failure? I am wondering this because I feel very much like one lately. I realize, somewhere, that simply not finishing school yet and having trouble paying bills is actually quite normal for a 22-year-old in Southern California, but it still makes me feel like a terrible failure.

But can we call anyone a failure? We don't know ultimate purposes or ends, so how could anyone here make that judgement?

Hmmm. This was originally going to be a post of me trying to talk myself out of feeling like a failure, but it seems to have done so earlier than I thought. I don't know the ultimate purpose or ultimate end of my own life, so I can't pronounce myself a failure; if I can't, how could anyone else ever do so? And others wouldn't presume to do so, no more than I would presume to do so to them.

Hmmm.

http://luminarumbra.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_luminarumbra_archive.html#110233048267453796

Thoughts about Liz's post

Thinking lately about the necessity to go into the dark places of the world.

Can those of us who are supposed to be light bearers do anything but go into the dark places? We're already in a dark place; this world is to a large extent a dark place. Our desire to remain only in the light is a good thing (after all, there is no night in the City of God, and the Lamb is their light), but we cannot ignore the dark places. If we do not go there, who will?

Frodo and Sam go into what is probably the darkest place in Middle Earth, and confront Shelob, the one who devours all light. They survive, because they still carry the light.

I know some people are going to question my decision to not only attend an Episcopalian church, but be confirmed in it, and become active in its life. It is, in many ways, a dark place right now (though I believe that there is still a lot of light, as there is in any church with a strong historic tradition/liturgy); but it is the dark places that need the light.

I have seen what one small determined light can do. My priest has been ministering in this area for about 30 years now. For 30 years, it's been a lonely job, from what I can tell. But now, there are a few guys from my church looking at the priesthood. Many of us are entering into Anglicanism intelligently, wanting to know what it's about, and what is expected of us. We are starting to reach out to the rest of the church, and maybe we will make a difference.

Once you have seen the light, it is necessary to go back down into the cave, and try to get others to see it too. It's been a rough journey up from the floor of the cave, and I certainly won't pretend that I see very well. But I can see better than those who are still in the dark, and I have to go down and help them.

Domine, istud quod facio non facio nisi, ut inveniam te. Inveniam te postquam id perfecero.
(Lord, that which I do, I do only to find You. May I find you after I have completed it.)
Nemo enim coronabitur nisi qui legitime certaverit.
(For no one is crowned except he who has striven lawfully)

Ok, lots of stuff in this post.

1. Our fun church meeting on Wednesday and its results
2. Going to the LA Diocesan Convention on Friday and Saturday, and its results
3. A long-awaited decision, and ITS results. :)


1. Our church meeting(The Drinklings)

On the first Wednesday of every month, our church has a fun meeting. We call it Drinklings, which is a conflation of "Dry Inklings." It's usually just the college folk and Father David, but other people have come and had a great time too. This time, Father David brought his Roman Catholic priest friend, Eamon Gorman.
Naturally, the talk turned to ecumenism and unity. Many of the people present expressed an opinion that went something like this: "Why do we have all these differents rules for communion and stuff? We won't be doing things seperately in Heaven, so why don't we just say 'Hey, we're all Christians,' and do things together?" (I am dreadfully oversimplifying here, but that was the gist of it.)

This is not the way to achieve unity. Ignoring the very real differences that we have will not help to bring us together. Instead, the questions will continue to be brought up, and we will keep splitting over them.

Let's take a long-term view: continue to disagree, and instead of ignoring the differences, talk about them. Do hard theological work, and keep talking to everyone, from Protestants to Roman Catholics to Anglicans to Orthodox. Do we want unity? Do we want to be able to take communion at each other's churches again? YES! Emphatically, yes. That is the long-term goal, to end the scandal of the Church. But we've got to take it slow and actually answer the questions.

2. The Diocesan Convention

Father David invited a few college students to go to the convention and help run our church booth. Half the booth was for the karate ministry, but the other half was "Evangelical Anglo-Catholicism," complete with a brochure entitled "Why do FIFTY college students attend Blessed Sacrament?"

I drove up to the church around 10am on Friday to meet to go to the convention, which was in Riverside. It was fun driving up, hearing Father David tell us about past years of the convention, and what things had been like until recently.

We got there, set up the table and registered, then went out for lunch. The trip was all-expenses paid by the church, so that was really fun. :) After lunch, we went back to the convention center, and I sat down to man the table while Father David and the other two delegates (Laurel and Josh)went inside the big main hall. I think that the other delegate, Marge Avery, must already have been in there, but I'm not sure. I talked to the Avery's a little later. Anyway, I was sitting at the table, and was soon joined by my friend Emily Moothart. We had fun at the table, answering people's questions, most of which went something like: "Evangelical Anglo-Catholicism...Is that possible? Why Evangelical?" Hehehehehe. It was fun. At one point, I had gotten up for some reason that I can't remember, and Emily got to talk to someone and ended up giving him a lecture on the Trinity. :) So cool.

That night, we got checked in at the hotel (since Emily went home at night, I got a whole room to myself!), then went out to dinner. We went to Applebee's, and had a terriffic time. As soon as we got our drinks, Father David raised his glass, grinned, and gave a toast "To orthodoxy!" We all heartily toasted the faith, and had one of the best dinners I've ever had (it wasn't the food, but the company really). Afterwards, we went walking around the Mission Inn, and saw President Taft's chair, and the centennial Steinway grand piano. We walked around outside the Inn for awhile: the streets were all decorated for Christmas, and they had lots of horse-drawn carriages! We got some coffee, then took a ride on one of the carriages, and enjoyed it completely. After standing around talking a bit longer, we went back to the hotel.

I did a lot of thinking that night, about events of the past week, but that will come under the next point, about decisions.

I got up the next morning, packed up my stuff, and headed out to load it into the car. I saw Father David, who grinned, and said "How would you like to be a delegate? Marge isn't feeling well and can't return, so we've got an empty space." I think I gaped and stuttered for a minute, but happily accepted.

It was so exciting to get there, and have a real badge, and get to go inside the hall where all the real business was being done! Ok, I realize I'm starting to sound like a junior high girl at a concert, but it really was cool. I couldn't vote (Marge had taken her voting stuff home with her, and they couldn't give us replacements), but it was really enlightening to watch. I got to be there for the really interesting stuff: i.e., the decision about a message sent to three churches who have tried to leave the diocese.

These churches have put themselves under a bishop of Uganda, because of differences with the LA bishop (Bishop Bruno). This is not in line with church canons, and has caused a huge disturbance. It also leaves my church as (I believe) the only conservative parish left in the diocese.

I just realized that I don't know how much of what went on I'm supposed to report. Hmm. Ok, I guess I'll say no more than what i can find on official sites on the web.

Let me just say then, for the time being, that what I saw was both discouraging (the current state of ECUSA--Episcopal Church of the United States of America) and very encouraging (i.e., conservative ideas are no longer booed or shouted down, and reconciliation with conservative parishes is actually being attempted.)

When we broke for lunch that day, we went to eat at the Mission Inn restaurant, which was fun.
We got onto a discussion of whether or not animals have souls, which lead in the end to this conversation:

Laurel (or maybe Emily, I don't remember): Father David, do trees have souls?
Father David: Yes. Tolkien talked to them, that's good enough for me.

Hardly any business was left after lunch, and when that was concluded, they had the Eucharist. It was all very cool, and very interesting to see the larger Episcopal church. Which, for me, lead to:

3. My decision.

A couple of months back, at our Wednesday meeting, after talking about some of the problems in the Episcopal church, someone had asked, "So then why should I be a part of it?" Father David responded: "Why should you go to any church? To become a saint. To love Jesus." That really stuck with me, and I've been thinking about it a lot since then.

I was still thinking about it when we talked with Father Gorman last Wednesday, and talked about unity and not splitting the church, and again during the convention when I saw more of the Episcopal Church: the good, the bad, and the just plain strange. And it was then, seeing everything at convention, that lead me to make a firm decision.

I'm going to get confirmed.

Yes, I have decided to become an offical member of the Episcopal Church. Why?

1. To work towards unity, you've got to start from somewhere, a home to base to unite with others.

2. The Episcopal Church desperately needs good people right now. Not that I am saying that I am a good person, but I to do anything I can to help this church. Why?

3. This is my home. The whole tradition is home in a way that the Baptist tradition that I grew up with never could have been. I've been wandering in the wilderness for too long. Time to go into the Promised Land, even if there are giants.

So I'm in the confirmation class, seeking confirmation, after 4 years with this church. Why didn't I do it sooner? I wanted to, in a way, but knew that my reasons for wanting to were not right. If I had gotten confirmed earlier, I would have been trying to please Father David, or be more popular at church, or other silly reasons. But now, I've seen some of the good and the bad of this tradition, and it's still home. Even if I think, in some ways, that other traditions are healthier right now, then that should spur me on to help my church, not abandon it. You don't leave the church. Ever.

Plus, confirmation is about moving into an adult understanding of the faith. I've spent enough years being frustrated and messed up over my church experience as a kid and youth. That was largely a bad experience (the churches, not the traditions which I got at home, which were largely good), but it's time to join a church again. It's time for me to come home. So this little song has been running through my head ever since I made the decision:

I Am Resolved
I am resolved no longer to linger,
Charmed by the world's delights;
Things that are higher, things that are nobler,
These have allured my sight.

I will hasten to him,
Hasten so glad and free,
Jesus, greatest, highest,
I will come to thee.

United We Stand, Divided...is just the way it goes?

Last night, a group of people from my church gathered at a friend's house for discussion. Our priest was there, and he brought a friend of his, a Roman Catholic priest. It was a great evening, full of both fun and seriousness. At one time, the talk naturally turned to unity. The question was asked (I'll paraphrase): "All this about having different communions and different rules is just stupid. We'll be all together in Heaven, so why don't we just do that now?"

I agree, it is stupid. It's silly to be divided: it's the scandal of the church, and one that has done greater damage, I would wager, than any scandal that has recently rocked either the Catholic or Epicopalian churches.

BUT.

The reason that we are divided is that we have different theology and beliefs about what the Eucharist is and does. These are serious and important differences.

There are two ways of achieving unity. One is to disregard our differences and go for the good stuff of unity, and do everything together. Not that this is a bad desire, but we'll get to that in a minute. The other way is to go along with the seperateness for now, and do hard work on coming to a common understanding of the Eucharist. After all, there's a truth about it, and we all want to get to the Truth, so we're working toward a common goal.

If we go with plan number 1, then we do achieve same practice, but not unity. We will still be divided, and the same questions will keep coming up, and the splits will continue.

If we go with plan number 2, then it may take us centuries to restore unity. But, if we work toward Truth, then it will be real unity, not just commonality of practice. Then, when the questions about the Eucharist come up, we might have some answers, instead of breaking apart again.

So raise your glass, and let's have a toast to unity, and then get on with the hard long work of bringing it about, through the work of the Holy Spirit.

Deserter or Loyalist?

I've been thinking about the music I listen to lately. A lot of it is tied to my Southern/Texan roots. I love songs like "Sweet Home Alabama," "Down on the Corner," and just about everything by John Denver. I could sing along to parts of the O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack the first time I saw the movie. I not only know who the Kossoy Sisters and the New Christy Minstrels are, I can sing the harmonies on several of their songs.

But I don't want to live in the Texas Panhandle, where I grew up, ever again. I still love that landscape, the wide open prairies and the brilliant night skies. But I'm a university sort of person, and that culture doesn't exist up there.

So, by hanging on to these bits of culture, am I helping to preserve a bit of it, or am I being a traitor by simply "picking and choosing" the bits I like?

I don't like country music, and probably never will. I'm not feigning an interest in it just to be "Texan." But neither do I intend to give up the Southern music I like just because it makes me "weird" to listen to it. I genuinely like the songs "Thank God I'm a Country Boy," and "Christmas for Cowboys," and I'm not about to pretend that I don't. I'm not going to make anyone else listen to them (for which they can be thankful!) but I'm not going to act like I've outgrown them. If anything, I've grown into them. As a kid, I never liked bluegrass music, but as I've gotten older and learned to like Celtic music, I can see those roots in it, and see how it is the root of a lot of music that I really do like. I can listen to some of it now.

So, the question remains: traitor, or loyalist? Am I picking my culture to pieces, or helping preserve a little bit of it?

The Return of the Blog

Yes, I am attempting to return to normal blogging again. I have been obsessed with NationalNovelWritingMonth for the past 23 days, but I just hit 50,000 words last night, so that will slack off a bit. Now, for the posting of the book on the other blog, and the months and months of editing!!

Ok, taking a break from the novel to do a real post. I think.

A little depressed today: not sure if it's just backlash from the whole novel-writing thing (which I'm actually doing rather well on), or dread for the art classes I have today, or nervousness over the Plato Metathon this weekend. Everyone in that class intimidates me (except Katie Fisher, I think), and I feel really inadequate. But I've been mostly keeping up, until now. And I'm really REALLY scared that I'm going to say something this weekend, and everyone's going to suddenly realize that I'm not that smart, and is going to...I don't know. That's when I start to realize that this fear is unfounded, because even if that did happen, no-one would blink an eye, or even comment on it, really. It wouldn't change my standing with these people. Not most of them, anyway (the others I don't know well enough to say what they'd do).

So it's got to all be ok, but....Man, it's stressing. I wish some of my friends weren't so distant lately. It's not that they're not friendly, or anything, just...distant.

On the good news front, though, the novel is going well, and yes it has completely taken over my life. To the extent that I forgot to study for a test yesterday. (oddly enough, it was one of my better tests in that class.) Just so long as I don't forget to write the first draft of my paper, which is due next week! But the novel is going well. I'm not using up my plot too soon as I am prone to do, nor am I doing any unnecessary padding, I think. In fact, there are several places where I need to add a LOT of plot. And my writing group laughed a lot at a certain chapter that I liked, so that was good. (for those who are wondering, they loved the flashback in chapter 4, with the guy and his writing group. They loved that whole bit. Yay!)

I trust this book; the characters have started running ahead of me, showing me things about themselves that I had no idea were there. The whole thing with doing flashbacks and memories? Yeah, that was their idea, not mine. It's a good sign when characters start doing that, it means that they've taken on a life of their own. Huzzah!

This has been an incredibly helpful and productive project. This is more words than I've ever written at one time, and the most sustained story I've ever written. It's also very revealing, because I didn't think I could do it. I'm not sure I could without the challenge of doing 50,000 in a month. But I'm a very competitive person, and I refuse to be beaten by a mere deadline! Even if I did start 5 days late!

Final word count from last night: 8042.

My head hurts. I think I sprained my creativity.

Word count: 7132.

3 days, 6000 words

Yep, that's how many words I have in my novel so far, give or take a few. Actually, mostly it's give a few; my space bar sometimes doesn't work, and words run together.

6000 words is a LOT of words to write, but not many to read. *sigh* This is depressing. My 4 chapters equal about one and a half decent-length chapters, and 50,000 words is only about 150 pages. So short....and yet, so long.

http://thegiftnovel.blogspot.com Tell me what you think of these brave 6000 words. Into the valley of Microsoft Word galloped the 6000.......Critiques to the right of them, critiques to the left of them...Theirs not to question why, theirs but to write or die. Yeah.

This is NaNoBlogMo!!! National Novel Blog Month, that is. The challenge: write a 50,000 word novel by midnight November 30th! Am I going to try? You bet! Am I crazy? Of course!!!

My story can be found at www.thegiftnovel.blogspot.com. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE critique it! Anyway, please critique it once I get my comments up and running....

Some time ago, in my roommate's English class, the prof was talking about the idea of the sublime, and said that some things, such as elephants running off a cliff into the sea in a rainstorm, could not be sublime. Liz, of course, took this as a challenge, and had our writing group write scenes in which that experience is sublime. Here is mine:


Sublime
-------------------
The problem with being granted a sign is that quite often, you need another sign to explain the first one.

So it is with the sign I have been given. I have no doubt that it is, in fact, a sign: it has unmade my thoughts and my heart is aflame. But what the sign signifies is beyond my ability to grasp.
It was a day ripe for signs, an apocalpyse contained in a rainstorm. The air was heavy and pregnant with moisture, yearning for release. The wind was cold and damp, heavily scented with the smell of the sea and rains from distant lands. The clouds hung heavy, barely clearing the ground, and lightning flashed in the distance.

I stood, with the ocean on my right and the trees to my left, looking out along the coast, and admiring the brief reflections that the lightning cast on the water. The waves rippled in the wind, as restless as the air itself. Suddenly, as the storm drew closer, an arc of lightning dashed out from the stormfront and cast itself into the water. The air was full of steam, and my nose prickled with a scent unlike any I had ever smelled. If anyone had been around to see, they would have seen my hair standing around my head like a halo, practically shimmering with electrons. It was then I knew that I must wait, for a sign would be granted.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, the incense of fire and water wafting around me, but it could not have been long, for the steam was still rising from the water when I began to hear it. At first, it was indistinguishable from the thunder. Then it was part of the thunder, a deep rumble in the land. Finally, it become the source from which the thunder rolled, crashing about my head.

As I turned to the trees, I saw them. They moved out of the trees as if they did not see them, and I am not at all sure that they did. I would say that they moved through the trees like ghosts, but it would be more truthful to say that the land and all that was in it were like ghosts in their presence. As they moved across my line of sight, I could see the water in their eyes. It called to them, as it had to me, but they alone knew how to answer the call.

To this day, I do not know whether they were called by the water, or the lightning, or by some force of which both were merely a symptom. But on they came, the lightning reflected in their tusks, ears blowing in the gusting wind. They were silent giants, except for the thunder of their stampeding feet. They did not trumpet to herald the lightning, nor to mourn their passing, but accepted it in a way that I cannot. For as they reached the cliffs that overlooked the sea, they did not slow, nor did they turn to the left or the right, but simply went over the edge of the cliff, into the water. Perhaps my hearing was damaged that day, or perhaps I simply was not listening, but I did not hear a single splash as they entered the water. The size of their bodies should have made a terriffic impact, but I heard nothing. Nothing, except the thunder of their feet, thunder beneath the waves.

I do not expect you to believe that this was a sign. After all, what could be significant about a herd of elephants running off a cliff into the ocean, in the rain? But this was my sign, my grail, and I do not know what it means. But to this day, when I hold a seashell to my ear, I hear a dim thunder beyond the rushing sound of the sea.

At a certain Halloween party, we were honored by the presence of Pope Gregory the 1st, Martin Luther, Catherine of Siena, two Joans of Arc, Thomas Aquinas, St. Francis, St. Clare, the Nicene Creed, and the Council of Trent. (also known as: Tim Motte, Kevin White, Joi Weaver, Rachel Robinson and Kate Saunders, Joel Britton, Tim Bartel, Ashley Romero, Erica Carl, and Nathan Hagberg.) As you can imagine, some interesting quotes resulted...


"Can somebody safety pin my chain mail?" ---Joan of Arc

Aquinas, to Luther: "There are two ways of committing heresy: one by thinking, and one by drinking."

"The Nicene Creed is about to get hit by a car!" ---Catherine of Siena

"I am necessary and sufficient for salvation!" ---Erica Carl (i.e., the Nicene Creed. But it sounds funnier coming from Erica herself)

"Let's see if Mr. Luther is as slow a driver as he is a thinker." ---Catherine of Siena

"It's a little weird to look back and see the Pope holding hands with Joan of Arc."

Catherine: "I see that although Mr. Luther preaches freedom from the law, he still stops for red lights."
Aquinas: "Yeah! Zoom on through by grace, Mr. Luther, and let's see how long you last!"

Catherine: "I'm Catherine of Siena."
Francis: "Oh! I saw her head!"
Aquinas: "He's having visions again."

Luther: "You, though you be dressed in the garb of greatness, are the greatest of sinners!"
Francis: "Your mom is the greatest of sinners!"

"Dang, Luther just stole from the Pope!" ---Catherine of Siena

"Quiet, you French harpy!" Luther to Joan

Luther: "Well, I---" *chokes on cupcake*
Joan: "He was about to say something positive, but it couldn't make its way out of his throat."

"The trick-or-treaters are the poor, unless they're dressed as demons, in which case they're Protestants."--Aquinas

Luther: "I've never died in obedience to Rome!"
Aquinas: "I've never died in it, I live in it!"

Clare: "I never killed anybody either!"
Luther: "Elitist!"

"Hey Joan, I think Francis' hand is falling into sin, would you cut it off?"---Clare

Nicene Creed: "Tim, move, your mitre's in the way of the TV."
Catherine: "If we position him right, we might get better reception."

Kevin: "You know, opening a door for a woman is a sign of opression."
Joi: "In that case, bring it on!"

"Who is your favorite creed?"--Clare

"Hey, I didn't get an anathema! Oh wait, I agree with you."---Clare
---------------

You know, it's amazing how much Luther-angst a group of Protestants can have. Most of us like Luther and largely agree with him. But when Luther is present, you just gotta bash him, because it's SO much fun. I wish Calvin could've shown up, though.

Conscious self	Overall self

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Enneagram Test Results Type 1 Perfectionism 26% Type 2 Helpfulness 60% Type 3 Image Awareness 36% Type 4 Sensitivity 60% Type 5 Detachment 76% Type 6 Anxiety 43% Type 7 Adventurousness 50% Type 8 Aggressiveness 33% Type 9 Calmness 46% Your Conscious-Surface type is 5w4 Your Unconscious-Overall type is 5w4

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Oh yeah. Artistic intellectual, absent-minded, likes being messy...that's me.

New version! Please review!

Biola is often known as a marriage school. Jokes on this subject abound, ranging from the "Bridal Institute of Los Angeles," to comparing Biola to a cobbler's shop (they take you in, mend your soles[souls] and send you out in pairs). But perhaps this is too often taken for granted, and we forget to think about the other option.

Many of us don't know much about celibacy--and sometimes even assume that it is based on the idea that sex is evil. Before I continue, let me take a few moments to explain the basic ideas behind the practice of celibacy.First of all, celibacy is thought to allow a person to be devoted to God alone. This is not to say that celibacy is the only state in which a person can be devoted to God; most people can marry and be devoted to God. Look at people like Billy Graham, or Jim and Elizabeth Elliot. Marriage itself is service to God; it has been known as the "bloodless martyrdom." But some people need--or wish--to be free of relationships that could distract them from God. I know that in my own life, celibacy is in some way a concession to a weakness, since I cannot--at least at this stage of my life--focus on human love and the love of God at the same time.Secondly, celibacy leaves one free to do whatever God may call on him to do. Wht does God call most people to do? Get married, have kids, love their family, and serve God. But perhaps God leaves a few people unattached who can drop everything at short notice, and do something drastic that needs to be done. Could Mother Theresa have given up everything to work with the poor in India if she'd had a husband and children to care for?(Yes, I realize there are exceptions to this, but they are few and far between.) But even without great dramatic things, the celibate person can devote lots of time to helping people in their communities.

This being said, why should we at Biola think about celibacy? After all, most of us don't come from churches with a monastic tradition, and we grow up thinking about "when I get married..." Also, if the majority of us neither need nor want to be celibate, why should we think about it?Firstly, Christianity has a long monastic tradition: many of the great saints were celibates. If nothing else, most Christians at most places at most times have found celibacy to be a good thing, whether they themselves were celibate or not.Secondly, celibacy might be God's will for some of us. Let's face it: not all of us will get married, for one reason or another. The only options that Christians have been given are monogamy and celibacy. If we do not marry, then we must be celibate.This leads to the third, and perhaps most relevant point. Even those of us who will get married but are not married yet must be celibate. This should not be a passive celibacy, one that is merely waiting for marriage, but an active one. Know who you are and who God wants you to be. None of us are half of a soul, looking for a missing half. We are whole people, made in the image of God. In the time of celibacy before marriage, let us learn how to be a whole soul and to serve God in the way He designed us to. Celibacy can, after all, be a preperation for marriage. A friend of mine once told me,"From what I understand of celibacy, it's a lot like fasting (chastity is more like nutrition). Celibacy shouldn't be seen as deprivation, but appreciating the gift of another and focusing on God in the meantime. Therefore, marriage shouldn't be seen as an escape from celibacy and chastity. If people do, then they do more damage to the sacrament than single celibates. " I hope I have made it clear that not all or even most people should be celibate. But we should learn the value of it, since we are all called to celibacy before marriage, and a few of us may take it as a permanent lifestyle.

Single Lady: Thoughts sparked by http://www.johnmarkreynolds.com/weblog.php, the post on Thursday October 21st. I simply can NOT figure out how to do the Trackback thing on here.

I am working through two main questions right now.

Number one: What am I going to do with my life? A large chunk of it has been freed up by deciding not to get married. However, this also means that more of my life will probably be spent working, since I will not have a second income to fall back on. I have no idea what sort of job I want; ideally, I'd like to mentor other girls in some way, both in education and in life.

Number two: How do I become more of a lady? I have spent most of my life resisting being "ladylike." My preference for jeans is well known, and my distaste for pantyhose is legendary. However, I've realized lately that somewhere along the way, I have started to not only become more ladylike, but also to care about whether or not I am acting like a lady. Some of this has been illustrated by my new love of wearing skirts and trying to restrain my usual temper.

So...how does a single woman who has to make her own way in the world also remember to be a lady? I'm not sure.

I think of the true ladies I've known. There's the lady I am named after, Elizabeth Joy Wilson; and the ladies I've known growing up. There is my dear friend Sharon, who is serving as a missionary in Africa right now. There's also the two ladies in my family, my mother and her mother. (I can't speak for my dad's mom, because I don't really remember her, unfortunately. I like all the stories I've heard about her)

My grandmother is amazing: she graduated from school in California, and I believe work into the workforce with her friend for a few years. She then met my grandfather and moved to Texas to marry him. She lived in the Texas panhandle for years, raising her family and helping run the farm. My grandad died when my mother was 16, and my grandmother took over the farm. She continued to run it for many years, then moved back to California to care for her aging parents. She helps at Awanas at her church, as well as Vacation Bible School, and is active in her Sunday School. Everyone in her church knows who she is. Her house is tasteful and homey, always a pleasure to visit. She is also a good cook. My mom is much like her: involved in church, good with money (something I sadly did not inherit), a tasteful decorator. Our house does not look like a page out of Better Homes and Gardens, but it does look nice, almost everything has a story, and it's ours. I always love getting out the Christmas decorations because they reflect so much of my family's life together. We have made many of them ourselves. My mom and dad have worked to make a house that is not only functional, but homey and tasteful as well.

I want to do many of these things as well; but I'm not sure if I will ever be able to afford a house of my own, particularly out here in Southern California, where I plan to live. But I do want to be able to extend hospitality to others, both older and younger than myself. I want to be able to welcome people to a place that truly is my home, a place that I have cared for, decorated, and worked on myself. I don't like buying culture, I like creating it. I want to create a space of my, that does not conform to anyone else's ideas of a fashionable home; one that will stand the years, and only age in the best ways. After all, age is so often a good thing. No-one wants to drink new wine, but we try to value youth in everything else. I want to be a true lady, like the ladies I've grown up with; I want to grow better with age.

Updated version! More comments please!

Celibacy

Biola is often known as a marriage school. Jokes on this subject abound, ranging from the "Bridal Institute of Los Angeles," to comparing Biola to a cobbler's shop (they take you in, mend your soles[souls] and send you out in pairs). But perhaps this is too often taken for granted, and we forget to think about the other option.

Many of us don't know much about celibacy--and sometimes even assume that it is based on the idea that sex is evil. Before I continue, let me take a few moments to explain the basic ideas behind the practice of celibacy.

First of all, celibacy is thought to allow a person to be devoted to God alone. This is not to say that celibacy is the only state in which a person can be devoted to God; most people can marry and be devoted to God. Look at people like Billy Graham, or Jim and Elizabeth Elliot. Marriage itself is service to God; it has been known as the "bloodless martyrdom." But some people need--or wish--to be free of relationships that could distract them from God. I know that in my own life, celibacy is in some way a concession to a weakness, since I cannot--at least at this stage of my life--focus on human love and the love of God at the same time.

Secondly, celibacy leaves one free to do whatever God may call on him to do. Wht does God call most people to do? Get married, have kids, love their family, and serve God. But perhaps God leaves a few people unattached who can drop everything at short notice, and do something drastic that needs to be done. Could Mother Theresa have given up everything to work with the poor in India if she'd had a husband and children to care for?(Yes, I realize there are exceptions to this, but they are few and far between.) But even without great dramatic things, the celibate person can devote lots of time to helping people in their communities.

This being said, why should we at Biola think about celibacy? After all, most of us don't come from churches with a monastic tradition, and we grow up thinking about "when I get married..." Also, if the majority of us neither need nor want to be celibate, why should we think about it?

Firstly, Christianity has a long monastic tradition: many of the great saints were celibates. If nothing else, most Christians at most places at most times have found celibacy to be a good thing, whether they themselves were celibate or not.

Secondly, celibacy might be God's will for some of us. Let's face it: not all of us will get married, for one reason or another. The only options that Christians have been given are monogamy and celibacy. If we do not marry, then we must be celibate.

This leads to the third, and perhaps most relevant point. Even those of us who will get married but are not married yet must be celibate. This should not be a passive celibacy, one that is merely waiting for marriage, but an active one. Know who you are and who God wants you to be. None of us are half of a soul, looking for a missing half. We are whole people, made in the image of God. In the time of celibacy before marriage, let us learn how to be a whole soul and to serve God in the way He designed us to. Celibacy can, after all, be a preperation for marriage.

I hope I have made it clear that not all or even most people should be celibate. But we should learn the value of it, since we are all called to celibacy before marriage, and a few of us may take it as a permanent lifestyle.

Move to the Music

I am sitting here, ostensibly at work, listening to a favorite Christmas cd on the computer (Yes, it's early for Christmas music. Yes, I always listen to it this early. No, I never EVER get tired of Christmas music. Not even in July.)

There are two songs on here, and both of them really make me want to dance, especially if I was wearing a wonderfuly swishy skirt. I don't want to dance with anyone romantically, but I do want to dance with people. I'm about to get up from my desk and start dancing to this music by myself!

As a kid, I was exposed to the idea that rock music was evil because it made you want to "move your body." Ok, sure, I'll grant that. Most people would. But the point was never made that a lot of music makes you want to move, including most folk tunes, and anything that's upbeat and Celtic. Some hymns would be excellent for dancing to.

Why is this, music making you move, assumed to be a bad thing? If music is what created the world, then we should move to music, at least to good music. Those of us who, like me, are not very good at making music, should at least learn to be influenced and guided by it. Should we all learn to dance?

Celibacy

I am consdering sending this essay in to my college paper. I'd like some critiques first, though!
------------------------------
Biola is often known as a marriage school. Jokes on this subject abound, ranging from the "Bridal Institute of Los Angeles," to comparing Biola to a cobbler's shop (they take you in, mend your soles[souls] and send you out in pairs). But perhaps this is too often taken for granted, and we forget to think about the other option.

Many of us don't know much about celibacy--and sometimes even assume that it is based on the idea that sex is evil. Before I continue, let me take a few moments to explain the basic ideas behind the practice of celibacy.

First of all, celibacy is thought to allow a person to be devoted to God alone. This is not to say that celibacy is the only state in which a person can be devoted to God; most people can marry and be devoted to God. Look at people like Billy Graham, or Jim and Elizabeth Elliot. Marriage itself is service to God; it has been known as the "bloodless martyrdom." But some people need--or wish--to be free of relationships that could distract them from God. I know that in my own life, celibacy is in some way a concession to a weakness, since I cannot--at least at this stage of my life--focus on human love and the love of God at the same time.

Secondly, celibacy leaves one free to do whatever God may call on him to do. Wht does God call most people to do? Get married, have kids, love their family, and serve God. But perhaps God leaves a few people unattached who can drop everything at short notice, and do something drastic that needs to be done. It would be cruel and irresponsible for someone with a family to care for to leave them and run around doing dramatic things. (yes, this sentence is bad; someone help!)

This being said, why should we at Biola think about celibacy? After all, most of us don't come from churches with a monastic tradition, and we grow up thinking about "when I get married..." Also, if the majority of us neither need nor want to be celibate, why should we think about it?

Firstly, Christianity has a long monastic tradition: many of the great saints were celibates. If nothing else, most Christians at most places at most times have found celibacy to be a good thing, whether they themselves were celibate or not.

Secondly, celibacy might be God's will for some of us. Let's face it: not all of us will get married, for one reason or another. The only options that Christians have been given are monogamy and celibacy. If we do not marry, then we must be celibate.

This leads to the third, and perhaps most relevant point. Even those of us who will get married but are not married yet must be celibate. This should not be a passive celibacy, one that is merely waiting for marriage, but an active one. Know who you are and who God wants you to be. You are not half of a soul, looking for a missing half. You are a whole person, made in the image of God. In the time of celibacy before marriage, learn how to be a whole soul and to serve God in the way He designed you to. Celibacy can, after all, be a preperation for marriage.

I hope I have made it clear that not all or even most people should be celibate. But we should learn the value of it, since we are all called to celibacy before marriage, and a few of us may take it as a permanent lifestyle.

Names

Today's Bible study at the Reynolds' house was about the importance of names. The story of my name is rather interesting.

My parents, when they were in college and after they first got married, had an older couple who were their friends. They seem to have been everyone's friends, actually. Anywhere you go in that area, you can find people who know and remember this couple. The woman's name was Elizabeth Joy Wilson, and she went by Betty. My parents liked that name (and her herself!) so much that that is the name they picked for me.
Elizabeth Joy means "joyfully consecrated to God;" unless I am much mistaken, I believe my parents also picked the name because they wanted their first child to be dedicated to God (I could be wrong about this, but I think maybe not). I never went by my full name, but my family always called me Betsy. One time when I was in about first grade, a girl at a camp asked me what my middle name was, and when I told her, she said it was a dumb name. For years afterward, I hated my middle name.
At one point in my life, I had only one or two friends in my life...except on the internet, where I was fairly popular. On-line, I went by the name Joi, a spelling of my middle name that I made up while trying to register for AOL instant messenger. Soon I identified with the name Joi more than the nickname Betsy; it simply felt more me, even though I was going through severe depression. When I came to college, I used only the name Joi. After going through a time of difficulty and taking anti-depressants, I finally began to grow into my new name, and began to learn to be truly joyful again (Joyful is actually one friend's nickname for me).
I recently made a very difficult decision regarding the direction of my life. since it will no longer be spent in the way that I had always thought it would, I am planning to dedicate my life to my friends around me, to serve them and help them on their journey.
And so we come full circle. I plan to dedicate my life to helping those around me, behind-the-scenes as it were, just like my namesake.

On the Monastic Life

It seems that God keeps putting odd monastics into my path. My favorite Christian singer (and probably favorite singer/songwriter of all time), Rich Mullins, lived a semi-monastic life. The only life of a saint I was required to read in school was the life of Saint Frances, who began his own monastic order. I recently read a fascinating novel that my priest recommended, and the main character was a Trappist monk (until he became Pope, that is). I have a friend who I hear is considering becoming a monk. I go to parish retreats with my church at a retreat house run by the Sisters of the Holy Nativity, and participate in a monastic life for about 2 days every 6 months or so.

All this, on top of my feeling that I'm supposed to stay single. Do I think that God wants me to be a nun? No, I'm pretty sure he doesn't. I'm not a "nunish" sort. I think I like wearing colorful clothes a bit too much! :) (I'm only half joking about that).

But maybe I'm supposed to be considering a monastic lifestyle. I know I don't want to be the secular image of the single woman, sexy and powerful, conquering all foes in a smart business outfit with perfectly matching high heels. I am very much NOT interested in being that! But neither do I want to be the stereotypical old maid with 20 cats. I will be the old maid with 5 cats. :) Kidding again! But still....

I have realized lately that I have too much stuff. None of it's great, or very high quality. There's just a lot of it. I think I want to simplify my life. For instance in clothes: the clothes that I enjoy and wear the most are the ones that I've made and/or altered myself. If I limited myself to clothes like that, with the occasional plain shirt or pair of paints thrown in, then I would have fewer things in my closet, AND would enjoy the ones I've got a lot more. I don't want to stop trying to look nice, because that's too easy for me. I slip into that naturally, and it just doesn't look good. I slip into the stereotypical "overweight single girl" image, and that's not edifying it anyone. Not to me, not to anyone who sees me, and I think that in my case it would not really glorify God. It's taken 21 years for me to get a clue that maybe the temple of the Holy Spirit should not look like an old run-down shed. A living sacrifice should probably not look like death warmed over. I know some girls who are radiant without makeup; in fact, one of them is a very good friend of mine. I envy them, but I know that I'm not one of them. I hope to be someday, but at the moment that's not the case. Plus, I tend to be in a better mood when I know that I look nice. And while I don't want to become fanatical about them, there's no sense in putting obstacles in front of myself when there's no need to. And, as it is, my makeup is not complex; it takes me about 3 minutes to put it on. As long as getting ready to go in the morning still takes me only about 20 minutes, I figure I'm not too obsessed with my appearance.

Do I have too many books? I never can decide. I like books, and make good use of most of them, so I think I'm ok on that regard. And I don't have that many junk books. It may be time to turn some of my Star Wards books into the library book sale (except for the ones by Michael Stackpole, which are still cool), along with some of the Clive Cussler books (except Atlantis Found). But on the whole, I have a good library that shows a lot of diversity. I think I'm ok on that regard.

What about what I eat? Surely I can simplify that. Focus more on vegetables (which are cheaper than meat anyway), lots of rice and grains, a little cheese, and lots of milk. Most of humanity has lived just fine on that diet for thousands of years. Besides, I really like pasta and rice, and am not that jazzed about beef or pork. I do like chicken and fish, which are pretty good for me.

So...will I actually do this? I don't know. I'm not always great at following through on resolutions, until I specifically will to do them. I hope I have the courage to act on this.

Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
I am not worthy that Thou shouldst come under my roof, but speak the word only and my soul shall be healed.

I think, if I was pressed to say what heresy I hate most, it would have to be the worst of the "Word of Faith" movement, also known as "blab it and grab it" or "name it and claim it."

While this movement seems so friendly at first, with everyone telling you that you need only ask for what you need/want, it can get very nasty. For instance: if faith is a force like electricity(taught by Kenneth Copeland, among others) that you can use, then why are some prayers not answered? Because the asker didn't have enough faith, or the right kind of faith, or the right words to unlock the faith...and so on and so forth.

This in the end eliminates trust in God to know what he's doing. The believer ends up trusting only himself, and driving himself into madness when life simply does not go his way.

This is profoundly evil, and incredibly tempting. After all, isn't it nice to believe that God wants to give you only what you want? But this is evil, divisive, and deeply unbiblical.

In this view, how do you view the sick in your church? Oh, they must not have enough faith: I'm healthy, so God likes me better. Well, tell that to Joni Earickson Tada. How do you view the poor or homeless, on this view? Oh, they must not have faith enough for what they need. I don't need to help them, they need to help themselves.

If I had to pick my most hated heresy, this would be it.

Ok, so I know I haven't been blogging much lately; things have been crazy.

Yes, the art department is still being a pain in the neck. I think they're determined to give me a mental breakdown. The process goes something like this:

Joi: *doing something that she finds fascinating and really ejoys*

Art profs: Well, this isn't particularly relevant [tell me, by the way, was Van Gogh "relevant"? I'm no great artist, but relevant isn't the main criteria for art]. Why don't you look at these other artists and try to do this or that thing to your stuff.

Joi: *goes off and does something that seems to be more acceptable, even though she doesn't care as much about it*

Art profs: Why are you doing this stuff? I thought you liked the stuff you were doing earlier, why aren't you still doing it? You don't seem to care about this new stuff as much; you need to do work you're passionate about.

ARRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!! I just want to get them off my back long enough to graduate!

"To be hurt, to feel lost,
To be left out in the dark,
To be kicked when you're down,
To feel like you've been pushed around,
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no-one's there to save you"

Is everyone in the art department like this? No. Have all my art classes been worthless? No. I had one art teacher who was EXCELLENT and taught me a lot. But he's gone now, and some of the other profs talk about how he was good, but his work was SO traditional, like it's a bad thing. BLEH!

In all my classes that were not taught by that prof, I cannot remember any discussions of objective beauty, aesthetics, optics, color theory, or realy philosophy of art; not even any mention of painters from before the 20th century(except in art history when it was necessary, and even then not all of those classes)! This is a trade school for art, not a liberal arts program. Shouldn't art majors spend a majority of time talking about these things? Aren't they essential to art?? Or am I just going mad?

I'm going to survive this, though, if for no other reason than to spite them. They can't keep me down.

You know you hate your major when you wake up in a panic over a dream concerning your classes....and it's only the third week of school.

I don't want to do this "artsy" thing anymore. I'll never be a great (even even good!) artist, and I'm fine with that. I don't resent any of my colleagues' comments on my craftsmanship. But I do resent being expected to act, dress, and think like the rest of the art department.

NO, I don't want to join the feminists' club on campus, even though most if not all of the other art girls are there.

NO, I don't want to make fun of the war, the President, or the fact that the rest of the school is predominantly Republican.

NO, I don't want to make fun of Biola and claim that I'm only here because of the art department.

NO, I don't want to make artists who want to work with words as words change and work with words as mere visual things.

NO, I don't want to play the oppressed art major who can't put up the show I want because it might offend the backwards traditionalist Biola community. (Biola is actually pretty good about art; they just don't like to see stuff that mocks their beliefs or is offensive in vulgar or sexual ways)

NO, I don't want to make tongue-in-cheek traditional art. I want to make REAL traditional art.

NO, I don't want to shove Biola's face in something because it's "good for them," or they "need to learn from it." I want to help Biola see beauty and see God, through visual mediums. I want them to be visually literate, not rub their faces in stuff they find offensive.

NO, I don't want to mock homeschoolers as being "unsocialized" (I went to school to get an education not to be socialized) or traditional.

NO, I will not sell out my fundamentalist heritage because some fundamentalists do dumb things. I am proud of that heritage, and I want to reclaim it.

I don't know if I'm going to make it through one more year of the art department; it just about makes me sick to walk into my classes, they're so stressful. At the moment, I'm taking the "sitting down and shutting up" approach to classes.

Please pray for me: I'm still sick to a certain extent, extremely tired, and I DO NOT WANT TO DO MY ART CLASSES. Ever.

I think I'm going into another depressive cycle, and I don't know why. I had this all under control, and I don't know why I can't seem to get my feet under me this year. Please pray that I find solid footing.