I was looking at this tree and I thought...wouldn't it be amazing to live in a tree?
Have you ever seen the old Swiss Family Robinson movie (Disney 1960) ? It's amazing! Pirates, tigers, pythons, an awesome tree house, and I think that there is even romance. I suggest that if anyone is bored that they go to their local library and check it out. I love it!

I just thought of another really weird movie made about the same time, Blackbeard's Ghost. Weird.

I have banned the following words/phrase for the next nine days:

* School, Homework, Patrick, Paper, Library, (and) I have sooo much to do!

The following topics are also off limits:

* Complaints about and conversation revolving around school/homework/class/papers
* My future with Patrick and life for the next year and a half
* Whines about missing him and everything that that entails (Do you want some cheese with that wine?)
* Hunger, boredom, extreme business, loneliness, and a lack of adventure

It was a Converse day

What can I say; it’s been a good day. I guess I can say that a good day includes:

Swimming, always swimming!

A good day means that I ate good food. I had free ice cream from Cold Stone because it was my birthday 12 days ago and I signed up for the birthday club (Hey! No one is too old for the birthday club).

I found an amazing new song that is special to my heart; I can guarantee that maybe only 1000 people have heard it ever, and it will be tucked away for a certain occasion that includes a white dress and an isle :)

What else…Oh, I was so distracted from my homework ALL day that I didn’t get nearly as much done, as I needed to, but life was good.

The best part was that was able to talk to Patrick face to face. It was just through the little camera on my computer, but still, I take what I can get and he is so cute and special that I think I’m still smiling and that was a few hours ago. Maybe I’m just a dork, but I think that it is love; I’ve heard that it can make a person do silly things.

Oh, Tyler and Ann got married today! Yeah! I don’t know them as well as I hope to some day, but they are both special to me and I was actually excited for today even though I’m in California because it’s more than just the wedding, it’s them. I think I’m inspired by their friendship and love, their focus on God, the way that they enjoy one another, the invisible sparkles that they emit, devotion, companionship, and they are both just amazing!

As I’m getting ready to conclude all of the things about today there are some very critical future decisions that I need to make. Graduate school, China, Texas, Washington, Editor, Teacher, Missionary, Wife, vagrant, philanderer…just kidding about the last two, but how do you make a decision about life? I just want to serve God with all of my heart living in complete faith and dependence upon him, like Paul or John or other people in the bible that truly gave every decision in their lives to God. It wasn’t the easiest life filled with comfort and happiness and ease, but it was full, and passionate, and inspired, and faith filled. How can I live this way and still make wise decisions for my future.

Lord, I have a joyful heart tonight. Thank you so much that I could talk to Patrick :) Thank you for your blessing, provision, grace, and wisdom. I’m sorry for the areas of my life that I retain in fear…it is so hard for me to take a step unless everything is illuminated as a green light or orchestrated by an audible voice. Lord, please help me to have faith so that I can live a life that honors you. I praise you for crickets and laughing, for beautiful songs, and for ice cream. You are an amazing God. I love you so much. Amen.

My thoughts. I just needed a place to put them.

The windows show me my world; they limit it to something that I can stare at, only. "My world" is not a function: something or somewhere that I can interact; it is a picture, a symbol of life, similar to actual living plants, that in the 111 degree weather are a symbol of something living, yet are made alive by sprinklers, a convention to sustain the desired symbol, that bring the only life that is to be had. Everything in my world is a symbol of what is desired and nothing that is.
The parking lot below is filled with “reality”? A Mercedes makes status "real," or is it a symbol for a desired identity? The square plot of land on which the college rests is green, rich green with trees and flowers, and ponds, but the fourth floor windows let me see beyond to the brown, the mirage of liquid heat that beats off of black pavement or distant brown mountains. The green is an illusion, a symbol to create something that is from something that is not.
What is, is my computer, the 12x6” reality of my current existence that documents my understanding of social theory and communicative structure and strategy. It reveals the heart of Langston Hughes and forgotten oppressed men, whose skin color made them prisoners and trapped in a white world. The world is not white however, the world is an illusion for something that we desire and cannot attain; it is an outlet for empty pain and meaninglessness, a constant excuse for an unfulfilling existence.
Where is the nature that inspires dreams, the relationship that brings the symbols to life? A hike with a lonely heart, a drive through the mountains or a walk along the shoreline are empty, fruitless, passionless symbols for a heart that is without relational context. Reality ceases to be filled with meaning, it becomes an empty symbol and the emptiness begins to beat and taunt and ridicule. Knowledge becomes shapeless without the relational purpose that brings form through meaning.
I am empty in a world of symbols, color, and meaningless knowledge. How long will the window break the spirit that stares out with it’s face pressed against the glass as a child’s and then force it to retreat back inside for reality to become the symbol once again of meaningless knowledge. I read… “Reality as interactional activity.” I interact, I pick up the highlighter, it projects a stream of meaning with a yellow tint, and my book becomes my present reality. My spirit breaks. A tear slides down my cheek.

My Island

I have discovered an island. Yep. The ironic thing is that it isn't surrounded by any water at all. It's accessible by one state highway, and one interstate, there's an airport, and I suppose that someone could walk or ride their bike here.
Today the temperature on my island is 113 degrees with about 30% humidity. I heard it correctly phrased last night by a young man at the grocery store, "Who lives here anyway?"
I am alone again because my family keeps going on vacation to Newport Beach, Santa Cruz, Carmel, Sacramento, and San Diego. I have a school on my island, a college rather, and I have to take four classes which takes pretty much ALL of my time from 8am until 11:30pm. No vacation for me.
The island is not lush and tropical; it's actually a desert without natural trees, a forest, or an ocean.
Okay, enough of the "cute" metaphor. I think I'm having a mental breakdown and I have to express it through writing or I don't know what will happen to me.
I woke up this morning sweating, my family was leaving town again without me, I had three hours of class looming, and I got a surprise phone call from a professor at 9:00 to say that he wanted me to complete an assignment by 12:00. Problem, my other class begins at 10:30. He had a no exceptions policy, so I finished my three-page essay in 40 minutes, and then went to African American Lit. for three hours. During class, which I can't really disturb to go to the bathroom because it is a televised section, I got a huge piece of something in my eye. It hurt sooo bad and when we finally had a break it looked like my eye was bleeding but I couldn't see anything in it and even still I am in pain every time I rub it or blink. My stomach started to growl really really loud during the second half of class and I was thinking about freedom to the point that my paper was full of scribbling, Patrick's name, hearts, the cursive alphabet, you know...
Finally back in my car, I couldn't even touch the steering wheel because when I did, it actually burned me! The house was empty, quiet, and stuffy, as it will be for the next few days and I got a peach and started eating before the tears started to come and they came! I think it was the pain in my eye that triggered it, and then I started to think that I have been in Bakersfield since May 17th. I've been in class since June 12th, I've been writing papers and reading textbooks, and talking to professors and the dean and associate dean and the transcript evaluator, and the department chair All about settling my classes and evaluating my transfer from ACU. At my computer in the corner of my mom's room is where I spend most of my time doing assignments. If not, I'm in class, or by the pool. Bakersfield has the lowest population of young adults of pretty much any city. The college groups at every church have about 4 people and in mine, they are all single, very available, seeking, men. The friend prospect is dismal and in all of my classes everyone is married with kids and a job. I need nature to survive, I just do, I need adventure, change, weather, and relationships. There is nothing within a two hour radius of me and I don't have extra money to travel beyond those boundaries of my island. Secondly, I have a one track mind and Patrick seems to be all that I can think about. It is so hard not only that he gets to be outside at a camp exploring, driving a boat, spending time with amazing people, and learning about God, but I just miss him in every way and it is so hard that I can hardly even talk to him. He can only either write emails or talk one the phone for about a total of 30 minutes on a good day and then the weekends. This weekend was especially hard because we talked for about 40 minutes and then I haven't been able to talk to him since then. So...I feel utterly alone and miserable and in love and ahhh.
That was the emotional spew. I know that everything is factually sound, but the feeling that accompanies all of that, makes it just so much worse.
Why is it so difficult to realize two things:
1. Life is just so imperfect, filled with consequences, decisions, heartache, difficulty, pain, and it just stinks sometimes.
2. Joy can be found even in those things, or if not joy, hope. I've been praying about my life recently and all of the decisions with graduate school and graduating etc. and I read Jeremiah 17:5-18 yesterday in church.

5This is what the LORD says: "Cursed are those who put their trust in mere humans and turn their hearts away from the Lord. 6They are like stunted shrubs in the desert, with no hope for the future. They will live in the barren wilderness, on the salty flats where no one lives.

7"But blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their hope and confidence. 8They are like trees planted along a riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees are not bothered by the heat or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they go right on producing delicious fruit.

It was just so encouraging to know that if we hope in God there will still be the drought and the heat and all of the things that could harm a tree, but we will still be in His care and producing fruit and I just have to keep moving forward and paying attention to the blessings along the way.

For example:
- Patrick is amazing! He is doing everything that he can to let me know that he thinks about me and cares for me. My love for Him grows each day especially the more I place my hope in God and see His will for our lives.
- I am growing closer to my family. It was a rocky beginning of the summer, but things are starting to even out.
- I am probably going to start my masters degree in the fall and I'll be able then to graduate with my masters by December next year.
- I got a job working as an editorial assistant
- God is growing me and stretching me every single day and I am a completely different person than I was three months ago. Praise God for His faithfulness. Please God, continue to give me strength and hope and courage to face every day. I love you.

I think that I will go and get some material to sew something. Here's my last project from a few weeks ago:



It was kind of a trial run. I left the hem unfinished and tried to call it vintage. I don't know if that's going to work :)

Sky

I miss the sky. I miss the huge fluffy clouds, and the blue that stretches like a dome over the entire world in Texas. I miss the lightening that races and illuminates and accompanies giant roaring thunder. I miss the sunsets and the sun coloring the sky after rain. I miss how huge God seems in a vast space of sky, and blue, and clouds, and rain, and life that comes from above. I miss the nighttime planetarium anywhere beyond a city where falling stars can be identified by the dozen each night, and I miss sitting with you on the roof or by the lake, talking about our great Holy God, praising Him, seeking Him, imploring Him, and investing in each other. I miss you like I miss the sky. A world that was vast and full of wonder and awesome things has shrunk because you aren't here for us to live this adventure together. God, please sit with me under the stars, fill the void that I feel, and bless him in his world where he has the sky and the thunder, and the stars.

Can I post a picture of myself? No!

Here's what my sociology book has to say:

The personal homepage is a self-defined "stage," upon which we can decide what aspects of ourselves we would like to present.

People from all walks of life have started to use the personal homepage for strategic and elabolrate self-presentation.

The personal homepage is also particularly valuable for those with difficulty presenting themselves in face-to-face interaction, such as introverts with weak self-presentational skills.

Here's how I respond:

Red cheeks. I looked at the words, then at my last post, the words, and my post, and yes my cheeks were inflamed with embarrassment. How self-centered, how narcisistic and insecure to post pictures of myself, to assume my life upon readers, to portray and present myself elaborately. Shame. (I'm definitely serious about my response)
so...I started to think, and think, and think.
I love Patrick, I am in love with Patrick. If he posted pictures of himself every day, I would be ecstatic! Megan Thurman has one of the best blogs ever, not to mention that she is super cute and so is her family. If she posted pictures of herself every day, I probably wouldn't be ecstatic because I'm not in love with her, but it would be so much fun to see her and get to know more of her expressions and maybe be encouraged to smile.

This past week I posted pictures of myself (gasp).
Now, let's suppose that every day for two months before I made that post I sat at home in front of my computer wearing baggy boys clothes and doing my homework, every day. Maybe I would be feeling kind of sad and depressed about life, I'm always sitting here and doing homework, I don't have friends in Bakersfield, Patrick isn't here for me to look pretty for or to tell me that I'm pretty.
Maybe instead, I'm a boy. I have been working out all summer and I have this really cute girlfriend who lives in California, but I'm in Texas. I know that she reads my blog and I want her to see my new 'guns'...and maybe he doesn't say guns. She's funny because she always says that she loves my arms and I'm so excited to show her. I want her to be playful and tell me that they're "so masculine" and that I'm "her hero," I miss her.
...and so, the inner woman that wants to be recognized and told that she is beautiful, and the guy that wants to be a man for the woman that he loved should be able to come alive for those individuals through pictures, right?

Why does the shame creep in? To be completely honest, I loved the three comments that I received as enocuragements just telling me that I'm pretty and special or reminding me that I had friends thinking about me. Shame? I think something is wrong with that response.

I'm pretty sure that I do a good enough job listening to culture tell me I'm not this or that, I can beat myslef up inside, to be honest, I struggle with insecurity.

So I wonder...why isn't it more common to encourage our friends by telling them they are beautiful every once in a while because they really are! Perhaps as an excuse for hyper-moral sensitivity to being a show off or self-consumed, or maybe it is to avaid the shame, we use the word narcisistic and self-absorbed when really if we were looking to encourage others and recognize who they really are, then maybe there wouldn't be anything wrong with posting a picture of yourself on your blog, or sharing about you.

I want to honor God with all of my heart, the beauty that he has given me inside and out, and the joy of His spirit inside of me.
God, please free us from the world's restrictions, the modes of conduct, the ideals, the shame, and the judment that we face. Help us to be free by your grace and your love to shine beautifully for you. Amen.
Here is what I say to that...jump, smile, bear those guns, and be beautiful for Him.





*The situations are hypothetical made to seem real because mine partially is. P, you do have nice arms, "My Hero!"

G I R L

Can I just say that birthdays totally remind me that I am a girl. I had to include some pictures with this post because my mom and my sister try to girlify me every year. Earings, ruffles, pink, purses, flowery prints, rings, and little sandals with a heel. It's funny because I don't really mind it anymore. I won't ever morph completely to carry a make-up bag with me where I go, it's just that it's nice to be a girl, it's pretty being a girl, it's clean, scented, pink, and mildly flashy. I really do feel part princess when I walk into a room adorned with jewelry, my pink ribbon and flowered book bag, a dainty cotton cami, and high heels. I feel unpractical, but I feel like a girl, and you know what? It makes me smile.
Michael and Paul bought me some really cool Hurley sunglasses. They are definitely surfer glasses I decided. It would probably look funny to wear them in Abilene or in Kentucky, but I think they are awesome. I have them on funny in the picture, but I think that you get the idea.



(Megan Halterman...I need your blog address pronto! Will you be speaking Spanish in Brazil?)

Drown me

I didn't surf today. I was cold, sick, and my head ached, but I still waded out into one of the strongest rip currents and wave sets that I have been in. When you body surf, it's just you and the wave, but you are a speck, basically you might as well be a grain of sand. I stood shivering and my eyes became huge as I saw the wall of water building behind me and coming with an exceptional speed and tons of force. As the wave came in it came with so much force that it wasn't even possible to stand because it sucked me in out into the ocean and then released me with millions of gallons of water pressure. Many crashed right on top of me and I tumbled beneath the surface, gagging and feeling alive. Sometimes if you feel risky you can dive beneath the wave, but you have to face it head on and the occasional large chunk of seaweed or a wayward boogie board will slap you in the face. Um, that hurts. Basically I spent the morning nauseous and immersed in a book, the afternoon being pummeled by giant waves, sun, and rip tides, and tonight I just feel alone. I miss my family on vacation still, I miss friendship, I miss simplicity, cool weather, and I think I miss knowing God in ways that I used to. Last summer in one of the books that Patrick and I shared, "The Pursuit of God" by A.W. Tozer, Tozer wrote, "I venture to suggest that the one vital quality which [great saints] had in common was spiritual receptivity... They differed from the average person in that when they felt the inward longing they did something about it. They acquired the lifelong habit of spiritual response."

I feel the longing of the spirit to do something more, to be something more, to really long for God more, to pursue him even with a boring/busy/lonely period of life. Lord humble my heart so that I can see you. Open my eyes to the realities around me beyond my tainted perception. Help me to love. Please change my life.

The eleventh hour meltdown

Um, yes. Eleven hours of homework. I'm still so so far from completion, so I started to look at pictures and blogs, and Megan, I have a cow shot to rival yours except instead of the cows running from us, I think they were rather intrigued with Patrick wondering if perhaps he was a distant cousin. What do you think? Here's a foolproof test.
In California there's this test called "Hey Cow" to make sure that the animal is really a cow. You drive by and out the window yell "Hey Cow!" If they look at you, it's a cow. Maybe I should try this with Patrick. I wonder if he would respond. Heeeyyyy Paaaatrick!!!

P.S. Patrick, I don't think you are a cow. I miss you so so much though. Did you notice that in the picture we're holding hands? I love you a million gallons of chocolate milk!

Down with ebay sharks!

I have ALWAYS been an eBay skeptic. How can you really know what you are getting, whether or not a person is telling the truth, and in light of this, faithfully just transfer your money throughout the world hoping that someday a package will arrive in return. No, not for me.
I find that times of desperation, or I guess desire lead you to make considerations that would not originally be made.
I dropped my digital camera about a month ago. It wasn't fancy, just a 3 year old Sony Cybershot camera. To replace the lens, which is what I ruined, would cost $180.00. The camera is no longer available so I looked into getting a new one. The one that would be the most effective as a basic point and shoot digital camera with some quality is $199.00. Problem. I don't have $199.00 to spend on a new camera, especially if it isn't any nicer than the one I already had. I had given up on finding one, but I miss taking pictures especially the perspective that a lens brings to ordinary life. I decided to look on eBay.
There were so many cameras that I was overwhelmed. I narrowed it down to either a Cannon or a Sony and I found one that was like the one I had but had a two year upgrade, 20 minutes left in the auction, and it was only $68.00. I bid, racing another bidder to $90.00 where I set my limit. For a confident 19 minutes and 30 seconds I had the highest bid and I was going to get my new camera for $102.00 with shipping costs! I was so so excited as the last 30 seconds approached and instantly I was outbid by what I would like to call an eBay shark and they closed the auction for $91.00.
What the heck! That is so not nice. I would think people would be more polite than that. It's like cutting someone off so badly that they run off of the road or like leading someone on and then breaking their heart, it is absolutely horribly disappointing!
I am through with eBay and I'm ready to wait for my camera until I can afford one and I will appreciate it more because I have worked for it.

I knew that sprinkles accompanied wonderful things

Is it really that difficult to keep up with my assignments?!
Ah! I'm going crazy with my three classes, but mostly because two are online. Really, what genius thought it might be a good idea to take two online courses and two regular three week courses? Oh, I did.
All of the classes are staggered. One starts one week, one the next, one two weeks after that etc. I have class for 3 1/2 hours every night and I have to read 1/3 of a text book per week for three classes in addition to taking a quiz, writing a research paper, taking a final for one class, a mid-term for another, and making sure to keep up on my daily discussion postings for two others. My life is spent mostly on the computer, but even then, I cannot keep track of everything. It's driving me nuts! I just realized that I missed the due date for one of two assignments for the entire course. However...

*I don't want to kill myself.
*I don't have user dreams
*I don't have to endure a root canal, bridge, and cavity feeling without anesthesia
*I don't wake up every morning to throw up chunks of my stomach, blood, and acid
*I am not in a treatment facility for drug and alcohol rehabilitation.

“I don’t want to be alone. I have never wanted to be alone. I hate it. I hate that I have no one to talk to, I hate that I have no one to call, I hate that I have no one to call, I hate that I have no one to hold my hand, hug me, tell me everything is going to be all right. I hate that I have no one to share my hopes and my dreams with, I hate that I no longer have any hopes or dreams, I hate that I have no one to tell me to hold on, that I can find them again. I hate that when I scream, and I scream bloody murder, that I am screaming into emptiness. I hate that there is no one to hear my scream and that there is no one to help me stop screaming. I hate that what I have turned to in my loneliness lives in a pipe or a bottle. I hate that what I have turned to in my loneliness is killing me, has already killed me, or will kill me soon. I hate that I will die alone. I will die alone in my horror.”

I'm reading "A Million Little Pieces," by James Frey in my spare time to remind myself of perspective. See, it would be easy to pick up a feel good book, a "Christian" romance novel that warms me from the inside out. I could read my bible or indulge in the wisdom of Augustine or Thomas Aquinas. I think however, that perspective is achieved when I place myself mentally among addicts, drug and alcohol users who experience the end, the height of emotional, physical, spiritual and relational agony. It helps me to see reality and grace and depravity, vulnerability, and pain. It makes me think about helping other people and wanting to be a nurse with the gift of a simple smile imparting hope or light to every broken soul. Instead of retreating in, I hurt and physically cringe, grimace, and even hold my stomach at times while the intense longing to serve and impart the love of God to the world around me wells up and gives me strength to continue so that some day when school is over, or while I'm going to class, each step towards an occupation or completion is a step closer to developing the perseverance, fortitude, and determination to continue in life so that I can serve the most people in the most effective way every day.
I am so impassioned to love others, to reach out and offer anything, every little piece of hope that I have to hurting hearts.
It's an amazing book! I know that there was a controversy over the facts in the book. However, can such a severe addict truly understand all that is going on? I think that it contributes to the authenticity and although it is peppered with questionable language and excessive mention of drugs and alcohol I would urge Christians to not be afraid of a book reflective of the world around them, and yes I do believe that God uses "smutty books" with an inspiring message to absolutely change the world and reflect His glory.

The Christmas Wagon and a breathalyzer test...well almost.

The wedding tonight was my favorite so far. Since I've become a wedding caterer on the weekends, I have the opportunity to observe and be picky about what I like and what I don't like, what works and what doesn't. Tonight completely worked, but not the wedding. To be honest, I really don't like weddings. What worked was the chemistry, the respect, the friendship, the sincerity. The bride and groom were young, I think 22, and they were sweet to each other. The last wedding had an abusive bride that hit him for sport or to make a point. Tonight, they looked just like best friends. He instantly lit up when she appeared at the end of the isle. They had a traditional ceremony, but they smiled to each other the whole time and at dinner they talked to people and everyone danced. My favorite is when she started to, I guess you would say dance "dirty" with him. But it wasn't, it was so cute and fun. She had her huge poofy dress on and he was in a t-shirt and his black pants. They were giggling and all of their friends were there with them. God was a significant element of the wedding too and other than sore feet, I have a happy feeling in me.
So, it was 11:00pm and I think that I could have fallen asleep standing up. The wedding was downtown Bakersfield outside at the art museum. There is a park on its border where bums and addicts are known to congregate and cause disturbances. We were constantly warned and had to walk in groups or drive one another to our cars. I'm only mentioning that part because after reading Under The Overpass, I wonder how much we allow fear of what we don't know to create prejudices within ourselves against people who are different than us. Was it really necessary to take all of the precaution against hungry, homeless people? I thought Jesus would have done something differently. Anyway...
We had to drive back to the restaurant to unload the truck and on Hwy. 58 there was a HUGE traffic jam about 5 miles from our destination. 11:00 turned into 11:45 and we had gone just three miles. It was during this 45 minute period that my sister decided it would be fun to listen to Christmas music, and not only Christmas music, but Maranatha Bill Gather's Vocal Band Christmas music at full blast with the windows down. Problem. (I don't intend to sound offensive or racist. I am just stating a fact.) The farming community lends to a large population of migrant workers and their families. Highways at night become cruise ways for low riders and supped up 1980's Cadillacs. For example, as the two lane road inched...we became neighbors with a tan 1987 Cadillac with smoke pouring from the underside, rap music causing it to bounce, and three young Latino males looking like deer in the headlights straight into our car. They smiled, made noises, beckoned, and tried to get our attention. What does Juliet do? Well, she rolls down the windows so that the whole world can hear Bill Gaither's trio sing O' Holy Night. Ordinarily, if I hadn't been so exhausted I might have seen the humor in the situation, but I did not want the attention of the males, the loud blasting of music, or to be the Christmas mobile inching down the highway.
The delay was not an accident, road work, or a poor traffic signal...it was a police checkpoint. Who knew that these even existed? I certainly didn't. Every car was illuminated with light and three policemen checked each of us asking us questions, if we had been drinking etc. Here's the thing. We were all wearing tuxedo shirts and bow-ties. If I even wanted to go out to get drunk would I wear that? And secondly, would I choose to match the person I was going out with in the same horribly unfashionable attire? Not to mention, all 12 of us had gone the same route and by this time they had heard the story of the caterers. We were waived past finally and on the side I saw the most tow trucks I'd ever seen in my life loaded with impounded cars. Mr 1987 Cadillac was among them.
That's my funny story, but I'm still just as tired so I must sleep now, but I had to get it out so I don't dream about it.