Skin for all seasons

2010-04-19T12:49:00.002-04:00

Behind sepia shuteye laden with grey good intention,
Aimless rapid eye movement and cold stare. She hums
Cradle tunes on days when the sun evaporates joy to fuel its own laughter
Kindly look here, please. In all these pictures your face says
Boredom, blatant boredom. Clothes that fit too well that drape
Over bodies bruised by limitations, beaten by formality
No one is in charge here.
Everyone is his own boss.

March 22, 2010

Here’s a question:
I wonder if Thomas Edison
ever objected to his incandescence/
invention becoming commonplace becoming
a symbol for bright ideas becoming the punch
line of jokes about incompetence? Or being a
euphemism for people pushed
t o o f a r
b u r n t o u t
as ancient stars.
Can you imagine
where all the
burnt out lightbulbs
go? Do you see them
piled beautifully
burnt or broken
in a landfill somewhere?
Filaments snapped,
shattered glass.
Don’t play with
the lights. How
would Thomas feel
knowing that to-
day it’s the cheaper
less efficient way to
light your home?

March 22, 2010

Good Friday

2010-04-02T10:30:00.000-04:00

"'Lord, by thy Cross and Resurrection thou hast redeemed the world'

In the symbol of the Cross we can see the magnitude of the human tragedy, the ravages of original sin, and the infinite love of God. Lent is a particularly appropriate time to attempt to penetrate the true meaning of this sacred image represents through prayerful contemplation; and to study the traditions surrounding the Christian symbol of the Cross.

Looking at the Cross in prayer helps us to truly see it. Most Christians have crosses in their homes. Many wear a cross around their necks. Some of these are very beautiful, perhaps made of precious metal and embellished with jewels. The beauty of these devotional objects may emphasize the glory and the victory of Our Lord's Cross; but too often representations of this central symbol of our faith are regarded primarily as decorative, and its true message is lost.

It is fitting that Christians glorify the Cross as a sign of Christ's resurrection and victory over sin and death, of course. But we should remember each time we see a cross that the Cross of Jesus' crucifixion was an emblem of physical anguish and personal defilement, not triumph-of debasement and humiliation, not glory-of degradation and shame, not beauty. It was a means of execution, like a gallows or a gas chamber. What the Son of God endured for us was the depth of ugliness and humiliation. We need to be reminded of the tremendous personal cost of love. "

http://www.catholic.org/clife/lent/friday.php

scribbles

2010-03-28T14:04:00.001-04:00

it’s a figure of speech
tip me over and pour me out
see?
everybody's doing a brand new dance now
come on, baby

distracted in hunt library, listening to sufjan stevens

2010-03-22T12:41:00.001-04:00

see them

shut away neatly arranged sitting in stacks between forgotten hours

spent categori- analy- philosophiZING sculpted and laid out on pages no one's touched for years

heads bowed in prayer to all unknown founts of knowledge

poring over melodic lines

pouring over mellowed winding paths into the dank and dusty future

beauty too tragic to be summarized here: self-pity

where does youth (butter)fly away to?

cradled in careful shadows out of sunlight

blinking before (en)light(enment)

reassure me. if it was loud here along with dark

and crowded

if pressed upon not by books and intelligensia

no, by hearts beating in time

how would we be?

next time

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otx49Ko3fxw

Hooray, Spring Break soon!

2010-03-04T02:34:00.001-05:00

And hooray also for God's perfect timing - and his really interesting sense of humor! Yeah, real funny

2010-02-09T10:00:00.005-05:00

I ride my shopping cart like a parade float
at the supermarket circus
Where the ringmaster at the meat counter
shout tonight’s attraction with a flourish
and acrobat shelf-stackers prance from lane to lane, paper price stickers like streamers and confetti in the air
I am surrounded by LOUD, BUY ME, cacophony of color
Patterns and oversized portions of spectacular
I dance everywhere
I’ll buy everything
I’ll believe anything
But it falters at the finale
Tinny music overhead
Sterile lighting at the checkout
Plastic bars to separate my revelry from her newspaper, yogurt, and chewing gum.
Beep. Beep. Paper or plastic?

January 20, 2010

True

2010-02-05T09:24:00.003-05:00

Off to MAC for the weekend to spend some time with God and learn about how to develop more authentic relationships, how to minister and interact genuinely when cross-culturally (and otherwise). Praying that we don't get stuck in the snow.

Here are two poems - true stories - and verses I read last night that are very beautiful and encouraging.

I missed the exit I was supposed to take
Twice
Someone rented this car for me and I am so close to crashing it
Thank God for satellites and my raceway commentator announcing, “[You idiot] . . . Recalculating”

I drove once into the change-only toll lane
I swear I can read English. I just can’t command a steering wheel. I wish there was time for more than a one-word apology
And dollar bills seized through the passenger-seat window, wilting in the glare of an attendant who cannot believe this dimwit congesting traffic right before her afternoon shift is over.

I’ve been awake since 4 o’clock in the morning.
I was late for my interview because I drove on backroads instead of the interstate
(see, I was nervous about driving in a city I didn’t know; I was trying to be safe).

And it’s Christmastime, so Fords and Volkswagens and Hondas line up outside shopping centers, which by some curse or miracle were all built on this road. They bypass patience, encroach upon bumper space, flare their headlights and mumble threats – to do what? – through their mufflers.
I don’t register this display of goodwill because my nerves are steeping in adrenaline
Come on, green light.

And now I wish that rental cars navigated like homing pigeons and the airplane I need to catch would know that I’m not on it,
That I would be the one in the right place, waiting. So much of life is spent waiting.

Everything looks the same size in Texas, actually.
I am lost somewhere in Houston.
Later, I get a phonecall from my friend in Maryland
“Did I just pass you on the highway?”

January 27, 2010

I wish that with this heartbeat, all would
vanish from the room, and that the sound
of cymbals falling crashed like gritty
hourglass seconds. Nobody would notice

where your tongue collides with teeth and cheeks or
symbols on a page. You can’t decode this English, and I
sense the dents of your frustration. Should it start like a “tsunami,” or
unravel after other approximate consonants?

Barnum elephants are more graceful
when they stampede in the dark
over tents cushioned with dirt. Painless.
Perhaps you’re supposed to know what to do,

how to speak correctly, you’re a teacher,
not a bumpkin, so you’re sorry
but you don’t stop yourself, you forget
that somewhere, someone else might be embarrassed

even if you aren’t. You articulate with a butcher knife
much like women in marketplaces of
places where my parents walked as kids.
My name can vanish there in a maelstrom of sounds, similar

to needles, real and whole
and to boxes and to thinking
and to the implications of intonations
infinite, immense.

I am immobile beneath your roster
my mortification is louder than your juveniles
whispering jokes about a word that they don’t know
I can’t repeat two syllables enough to dilute your non-native speech.

My parents should have hidden ancestry in the middle
mystery of an initial to be revealed in a late-night
conversation or the next step in a relationship
but no, it’s spelled out here

slouching naked through a courtroom in a dream
Though now in daylight, in a classroom.
I know that pause at the end of the alphabet.
Stale humiliation, repackaged every year.

I know all the words to the Beegees
And ABBA and John Denver
It’s Tsen-Shan. Sunshine?
Call me Sharon

February 1, 2010

“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. 2 There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? 3 When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. 4 And you know the way to where I am going.” 27 “I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.

John 14:1-4, 27 (NLT)

I'm taking a poetry class

2010-02-03T16:36:00.004-05:00

I so thoroughly convinced myself that I'd hate creative writing (the process, not the final product; the way I write . . . I take forever, it drives me crazy) that I decided not leave it alone in college, until now.

It's making me remember all these funny incidents that I want to write about. Or come up with silly ideas for poems. Our next assignment is to write a sentence but to slice it with creative line breaks like a Stanley Kunitz poem we read today. It made me remember a homework assignment from kindergarten or first grade when we were learning how to count money, and my mom took me to Giant (grocery store) and we picked out a 60c ruler (like 8" or 6"), clear blue, and then took it to the register. I proceeded to count out 60 pennies while people waited in line behind us with actual groceries . . .

Anyhow, I'm loving creative freedom, assignments so different from engineering, and writing on puzzling and fun prompts, mixing up words and trying new forms and different things. It's pretty cathartic, too, which isn't bad.

Sleeping with the dictionary

2010-02-03T05:18:00.005-05:00

I like this poem a lot. This is called "Illuminate".

My mind differentiates with
sound. See, never has there been a
light nor dark – my lexicon holds
footsteps, sighs of boredom, zippers
sealing shut in wintertime, cold
doorknobs turning, pages turning,
cam’ra shutters staring, blinking.
My eyes wonder, wander; I de-
sire Truth as much as you, through
auditory fashion brought to
beat on drums and hang on lobes, pre-
ferred to sight, to tricks of light.
Illuminate. Illuminate.
Sounds blur, as do faces when in
crowded places (metro stations),
so I’ve heard before. But yours, your
voice is bold and new, and parses
rhythms like a lisp wound round a
tongue depressor, ice pop gone. If
only I could see that smile – you
say your fav’rite color’s yellow,
like I’m wearing, accidental.

(Prompt: Write a poem in which you revise, revisit, expand, or challenge the definition of a word. See A. Van Jordan, "from".)

Re: And a fun task!

2010-01-31T22:59:00.001-05:00

How to sing the song

Bundled up on the side of my head and messy from dancing and unfortunate midnight meeting with my friend’s couch
You, go and get me a sandwich
When I walk beside the road, I imagine sidestepping Converse-clad onto cracked asphalt and feel air like a wall as steel propels into my ribs, forward into femur, bones crumpling faster than the blaring of car horns
If you want home-style tofu, be nice to Mom and she’ll probably oblige
I walk as far to the right-side of the sidewalk, always. I focus on where I’m going.
“You just seem like you’re so organized, so on top of things.”
Obfuscate
Last night, I dreamed my friend gave a speech and started crying at the front of the room, which is so unlike her. Also that Twitter was actually medication for puppy urinary incontinence and had begun running cartoon ads.
Like throwing punches through molasses, no thrust and no recoil, just futile resistance against slumber and then plunging into the sweet, sweet dark
The girl said, Why didn’t you try the escape hatch? And the man said, I would have, but there were too many people in the cell
All I can see of my umbrella is the handle hooked over the side of the table.

January 25, 2010

2010-01-29T02:22:00.001-05:00

I LOVE HONEST CONVERSATIONS

2010-01-26T00:59:00.004-05:00

And I love changing my surroundings, going home, and having MORE honest conversations!

Going from reflecting on true, biblical Christian community and being honest and vulnerable about sin to hearing about what it means to be a black student at university, underachieving, having standards being ostensibly set for you by your race, and what the heck is going on with schools in the U.S. and the education system (the latter with three students who also happen to be earning degrees in the School of Drama). I love it when people care and when people are coherent and open enough to voice their passions. And the conversation continues outside my door between women studying ECE and drama.

God, I love how you're at work here and how you work even when I don't know, even among situations that I don't see or relate to. I love how You're touching everything! You are beyond good.

The "Marriage Benefit Imbalance", among other things

2010-01-25T13:07:00.002-05:00

"Hitched", a book review by Ariel Levy for the New Yorker

Comments?

And a fun task!

2010-01-25T11:01:00.009-05:00

Here is the poetry assignment we had for today - I really want to read yours, so post it and I'll post mine later this week! We had some great ones in class.

NOTE: DO NOT PREMEDITATE, COMPLETE IN ONE SITTING. Just write what pops into your head and don't try to give it more finesse or style - no apologies, just write.

Without worrying about whether or not your poem "makes sense," compose it by following the steps below:

1. Name one thing you've obsessed about in the past week. Make this the title of your poem.
2. Make an immediate observation about your hair at this moment.
3. Give the reader of your poem an instruction.
4. Make a confession.
5. Give the shortest instructions for preparing your favorite home cooked meal.
6. Contradict what you said in #4.
7. Quote something your parent(s) or friend(s) want to believe about you.
8. Write a word you've never spoken.
9. What did you dream last night?
10. Use a simile to describe how you felt before you fell asleep.
11. Tell the punch line (only the punch line) of your favorite joke. If you don't have a favorite, make one up.
12. Without using a simile, describe a nearby object.

My favorites (when I listened to other people's) were #3, #4, #9 and #11 - I laughed at so many people's punch lines because I was trying to imagine the jokes that preceded them. I had such a hard time finding #8 because (I wrote this at 8 o'clock this morning) I was Googling "SAT words" and the browser kept closing and popping error messages!

At the end of class, our professor said to the everyone, I think this was your first poem. The first poem you wrote for this class.

Cool :)

Writing an angry poem

2010-01-25T10:56:00.004-05:00

This is one I wrote in class this morning:

You need to leave
Get out
Or this smile you admire and your lips mimic with spite will be gone forever
Don't coddle me with "It's okay"s or
Tell me it was just a phase
I'm annoyed now, blood flowing like acid through my veins
And when blood boils, humor is the first to evaporate
I like you
And I thought I l
Well, I just lost my train of thought
in the sound of pianos talking and the crinkling of Valentine's Day cards.

I need to revise this into a 19-line poem, so it's not complete yet. The prompt was to write a list of things that you'd lost (see Elizabeth Bishop, "One Art") and then write a poem featuring 1) a dominant color, 2) a dominant motion, 3) no adjectives, 4) no adverbs, 5) direct address, and 6) a refrain. So that's interesting - on my list of lost things I wrote stuff like "erasers," "pencils," chapstick,

Well, I'll just write it out:

Many erasers, many pencils - so annoying
Chapstick
My place on a page
My train of thought
First chair of orchestra in 8th grade - lost it to Ha Eun Lee
Lost my life to Christ
Facsimiles of love, which were crushes taken too seriously
I lost my mind when I tried to take two classes held at the same time, and one of them was Intro to Chemical Engineering
Lost my sense of direction on a highway in Houston
Lost my voice

Writing

2010-01-20T14:51:00.002-05:00

This is what I ended up submitting in class this morning, but it doesn't feel finished.

I remember the sound of coffee before the smell.
More soft-spoken than its flavor
Erratic sifting through the filter
Beckoning through dust and dreams and from within my pillowcase
Good morning.
Stir awake and stir "hello"
I stir cubes of Domino and too much store-brand creamer into one chipped China mug
Concentrically intoning the icebreaker between me and this alarm clock that rivals rain
And this morning, She levels her gaze through ceramic, saying
Beware of artificial sweetness.
Because tastebuds and heartstrings are easily deceived,
not recognizing sweetness as a mask for something else
And unable to discern without first cultivating sophisticated tastes for things more bitter.
You wouldn’t trust your judgment without a double-take
Nor would you move forward claiming to be sure based only on a feeling
Would you?
Why then, upon first meeting, would you believe sweetness to be something’s actual taste?
In my time, I’ve learned to question the artifice of sugar and honey,
Who take advantage and presume the last laugh,
And iron woven threads of deceit like the fallacy of fondant to smooth over imperfections.

But I, who lauded “Disney princess” a life calling,
am desensitized by Gene Wilder’s flunkies who preach in choirs bearing technicolor monosaccharides,
cannot pronounce “aspartame” and confuse my Flinstone vitamins with other things high in high fructose corn syrup,
I, who won’t keep count of betrayals and misunderstandings, no matter the enticing or revelatory flavor,
Trust persistently and
Have nothing to fear of artificial
sweeteners

2010-01-20T03:45:00.007-05:00

Late-night writer's block PLAYLIST (abridged)
circa 10th grade

David Gray, "Babylon"
David Gray, "This Year's Love"
John Mayer, "Split Screen Sadness"
*NSYNC, "This I Promise You"
Imogen Heap, "Goodnight and Go"
Five for Fighting, "Superman"
Train, "Drops of Jupiter"

-
Re:
Haha the video for "This I Promise You" - so much cheesy seriousness and slow-mo. And late 90's/early 00's garb.

Like lemonade

2009-10-16T17:32:00.003-04:00

"At the door the girl suddenly remarks that science, at least, is founded on optimism. It boldly presses on, believing in a future, which, if not better, will at least be more enlightened. It is, perhaps, the only human activity that still refers to our future, to the future of knowledge and even of life. For science, no backward step is possible. It has to stride on ahead, sure of being better tomorrow and better still the day after."

Jean-Claude Carrière, Please, Mr. Einstein

What's new?/100 Hotels for Under $150

2009-10-10T15:51:00.004-04:00

A few weeks ago, won free tickets to see Elizabeth Gilbert speak as part of the Drue Heinz lectures. She was incredibly funny, poised, articulate, self-deprecating, and entertaining, definitely glad I went. She read to us from her new book, Committed and talked about going on set for the upcoming film, Eat, Pray, Love, based on her memoir of the same name.

CAPSTONE - what exactly happens to conductive polymers after you leave them in sun and heat for weeks at a time? That might be good to know, since they'll be used for solar cells and the like . . . so we take current-voltage measurements on Organic Field Effect Transistors (OFETs) in the basement of Roberts Engineering Hall, in the Dark, and listen to a Pandora station called "Transistors"

21 - two cakes! One was ice cream and one was chocolate mousse, delicious!, I guess friends come in handy after all. Haha

Family Weekend. I drank a lot of hot apple cider and talked to some parents.

It's gorgeous outside. I heart Pgh.

"100 Hotels for Under $150" - European hotels. Beautiful interiors. Let's go!

9/29

2009-09-29T04:07:00.003-04:00

Happy birthday, Dad. Remember when I was four and you were unemployed, and I said you could do my job? "What's that?"

Coloring

It still applies. I'm here for you, I'm glad to have you around, I hope you can find simple enjoyment in your day, even though/because you've supported me all my life.

Love you.

I don't really know what I'm doing

2009-06-15T21:46:00.006-04:00

I'm talking about my tree pods that I got from the Mattress Factory. They came in containers like those dispensable rings or toys you get next to the gumball machine at the supermarket. They've been sitting on my desk since I got back from Pittsburgh/Michigan. Along with guilting me into mailing a belated birthday card, my sister has been telling me I would never plant these things. Well, I finally got around to doing it tonight . . . The soil was pretty dry. Possibly beyond resuscitation. Are they supposed to grow into trees?

(I just skimmed the website, and I was supposed to plant them in Pittsburgh. Oops.)

Making friends with old people

2009-06-13T00:03:00.004-04:00

I'd never done community service at a senior center before last summer. And I get along with my own grandparents, but never got to know them, not all that well. I never found out the little details about their lives or heard stories told over and over again that I could repeat to someone else. Sure, they had all sorts of wisdom and know-how, but somehow I never summed it up into something that could follow "My grandpa always says . . . "

So those are all likely reasons to hang out with elderly people.

But the reason I volunteered last summer, the reason I started, anyway, was that I wanted something to write about. I thought, A senior center is a veritable goldmine for stories. Wouldn't it be great to uncover people's lives and write them down? I wonder what these people have been through, I wonder what they've learned.

Since I never got them (never remembered them) from my own grandparents, I wanted the stories. I wanted the "Do this, because from my experience . . . " and the "Wow, a long time ago, we used to . . . " and I wanted to finally want to listen and I wanted the stories to be in a language I understood and could respond to.

And since I had no job and all my closest friends did have jobs - in D.C., at summer camps, at the pool, in Pittsburgh - I felt inadequate. I felt like I hadn't tried hard enough to find work, and then I thought that maybe I had, and I just didn't have any of the qualities necessary to get a summer job. I felt like I was going to waste two and a half months being "unproductive" and this was going to be an insurmountable setback with long-term consequences, none identifiable because I didn't actually have long-term goals, but nevertheless threatening and panic-inducing.* My self-esteem occupied the area of a postage stamp, and I desperately wanted to be sent somewhere, out of my house, just get out somewhere and be useful. I wanted to help someone.

You know, whenever I'm desperate to help, it's usually because I could use some help myself.

What ended up happening? As I'm writing this, I realize I put too much faith in the infallible memories of old people. They may have experienced a lot, but after all that living, they deserve a break. It's okay if they don't want to or just can't retell the stories. I ended up volunteering in Senior Plus - that's the side of the senior center where they host activities for mentally degenerative seniors.

I got to work with the coolest people, energetic men and women who love what they do. Harriet, Janet, Joyce, Jackie, Jay, Tommy, Danijela (pronounced "Daniella"). The occupational therapists and volunteers were so bright and so purposeful about caring for others, even when I felt crummy and disappointed about being stuck at home, what could I do but imitate them when I was around them? We served meals and made crafts and sang songs and played bingo and did "exercise time" with the seniors.

The seniors themselves were fantastic. There was fiery little Rosaria, who showed up each morning in J Crew-style print dresses, rattling her walker, demanding "agua, no ice," and babbling in Italian. Which I was still trying to teach myself how to speak at this point, so I brought my Italian book with me some days and Tommy and I would try to find some phrases that would be useful to say to her. The most that I understood of her life story was "ragazzo" - boy - I think at one point she may have been telling me something about her sons.

Joanna was boisterous and cheerful, very elegant-looking with big, alert brown eyes, and apparently she was Greek, because whenever she, Rosaria, and Gwen sat at a table together, it'd be called the "International Table." I remember she had a trademark cheer, which would get imitated a lot, and a very calm smile when she was happy.

Gwen was more graceful and aloof, very friendly and liked to talk to you. She was one of the first people I met. She was from England and liked to drink tea in the morning. I remember she was very proper about her art projects and word searches and always asked if she was doing it the right way, but not in a high-strung way or a seeking-affirmation way, more like she just wanted you to keep her company and encourage her from time to time.

I remember Ann, Thelma, and Dorothy, who were very gentle and quiet and had beautiful smiles. Thelma was from Virginia and told me she used to go to school in a one-room schoolhouse (dirt floor, or did I make that up?), several grades in the same place. She was kind towards kindness, I sensed resignation from her sometimes, like she was humoring my volunteer-self when I offered to help her with her word search. "I can't see it," because her vision was impaired.

Let's see. There were three Marys. I remember one never ate lunch, but was consistently kind and pleasant. Another Mary was sort of trapped inside her body, but still there, and we talked to her and did art projects with her. She passed away in July. The third Mary was sometimes grumpy - she'd pout and insist that the other seniors made fun of her, or say that an old ex-boyfriend, Danny, told her she was ugly - and sometimes cheerful - talking about her Croc shoes and her outfit and the dolls she carried with her, Bubba and Pearl.

And Rhoda and Nikki, who were playful and sassy and would make jokes with Jay. Rhoda was vaguely regal, a bit of a diva, but also a sweetheart, and Nikki seemed like she might have been an athlete when she was younger, energetic and kind of agressive, always faking punches.

And Mitch who would say "Yay!" when he got excited and loved to dance, who'd always wear a cap of some sort, who they were always asking to sit down and for whom you'd have to rush to get his cane, because he wanted to move around so much. Haha Joanna was so annoyed by him and would tell him to be quiet. Vince, who celebrated his 98th or 99th birthday (the secret was apparently all the vino). Mike, whose smile and glittering eyes looked pretty mischievious, when he wasn't putting his logic skills to work on that day's Sodoku puzzle. Frank, a friendly guy whose grandson was in the Olympic trials. And Mr. Raja, very demure, who always wore a collared, button-down shirt and carried a tote bag with him.

I catch myself wanting to edit parts of my past and being anxious about the future, and what I forget in those moments is how to live in the present and love whatever I'm doing. To just focus on where I am and the people I'm with and whatever God has given me. These seniors lived incredibles lives, full of worth and merit. But I learned from them the importance of cherishing the present. That's all you have after memories become a collective vagueness and long-term goals have been set and revised and achieved. Each day becomes something to look forward to. Why can't it be that way now?

We're all going to grow old. We're all going to have weakened bones and flabby muscles, de-elasticized skin and age spots. It's neither disheartening nor repulsive. And it doesn't need to take that long to be encouraged by what's around you, to start living in the present.

*(Wasting time is a choice and a matter of perspective.) It wasn't a waste.

A final point that fit nowhere above: I was proposed to twice last summer by the same man. That should be a huge plug for volunteer work at a senior center. If I said "Okay," does that mean I'm engaged?

Rush hour is a good time to make phone calls

2009-06-11T20:49:00.004-04:00

But I hit a lot of voicemails because I called around dinnertime - 6:30? I left lengthy messages on four people's voicemails and then got through to one friend, but she was at the grocery store and said she'd have to call me back. So beware, you might be next!

"Na-ma-ste" is Hindi for "Hello," "Good morning," "Good afternoon," and "Good night".

I'm learning to focus my thoughts based on my location, a very useful skill - i.e., think about work stuff at work and NOT think about work at home. And also be less distracted at work.

I'm starting to be okay with the fact that none of the skills God's helped me work on a lot this year - organization, tasking, planning - is really coming into play in familiar ways at my job, but in different ways, sort of as they apply to engineering. I have so little experience that sometimes it feels like I have none of the skills that would qualify me for what I'm expected to do (still figuring out what that is). I'm seeing that I still have a lot to learn about patience, time management, and self-discipline. I'm building from the ground up, but at least I'm learning and growing, for sure.

This summer is about stretching, I think. Well, glancing backward, they've all been, at least a little bit.

Cyclone Aila

2009-05-27T14:19:00.004-04:00

"Cyclone Aila tore into the southwestern coast of Bangladesh on Monday, wreaking havoc in ten coastal districts and killing more than 150 people. BRAC staff have been working around the clock since before the cyclone hit to evacuate people and immediately launched relief efforts. The storm, with tidal waves caused by winds of up to 100 kilometers per hour (Reuters), has rendered hundreds of thousands marooned homeless, and many are still missing."

More

Pray.

Red flags and crazy cardinals

2009-05-25T23:36:00.005-04:00

We all struggle, so I guess I shouldn't launch (immediately) into rescue mode when I sense that someone else is having a hard time spiritually or just searching. I should kind of feel out the situation and pray. I found this library book in my house after I got home on Saturday:

The Power of Soul: The Way to Heal, Rejuvenate, Transform, and Enlighten All Life (Soul Power Series)

In the twentieth century, mind over matter was emphasized. In the twenty-first century, soul over matter will transform all life.
The Power of Soul reveals divine soul secrets, wisdom, knowledge, and practices to transform the consciousness of humanity and all souls, and enlighten them in order to create love, peace, and harmony for humanity, Mother Earth, and all universes.
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The Power of Soul is the leading authority for Dr. Sha's entire Soul Power book series. The divine soul secrets, wisdom, knowledge, and practices in this book will lead humanity and all souls to the universe of soul over matter. This book shows humanity and all souls the way to heal, rejuvenate, transform, and enlighten all life.

Whoa, whoa, whoa

So if I'd read this two years ago, even a year and a half ago, I wouldn't have been as unsettled to have this book in my house as I am now. Coming back from a retreat where my own faith was pounded and extruded a few different ways, I'm convinced of the need to swear by the cross and by Christ's sacrifice, even if I'm not quite at the point where I'm actually, you know, doing that. My mom's been borrowing books from the library on Buddhism and spirituality for years. I think she's been looking for concrete principles, something to reaffirm her, something to give her direction, something to hold onto. Something that sounds true and virtuous and will give her new purpose for living. It's never struck me that the places and texts she sought for answers might be leading her further astray, or that her mind and heart might be in urgent need of love and intervention. Not even intervention. Just someone to listen to her thoughts. Someone to walk with her and a human voice to say, You know, God's walking with you everyday.

I was really bad about reading my Bible during Finals Week. Unguided, erratic, . . . unfocused. One thing I became convinced of last week was the authority of Scripture and how if you let it heal you, if you believe that it is true, it can accomplish amazing, uplifting things for your outlook and your approach to life. The opposite also shows when you let your self-discipline slide. I'd become distanced and damaged - and was surprised and hurt by it, all self-inflicted - and I'm still dealing with the consequences. But the ways we confuse ourselves and the times we walk away don't stop God from working. It didn't stop Jesus from loving and it didn't stop Him giving up a beautiful life just so we could stand closer to God.

Mom, it's all in the Bible. Look there. Be renewed.

And, well, I guess there's also this: My mom bought "Don't Waste Your Life" by John Piper. (If that's not a red flag, I must be color blind.) We read this in Cell Group this year. Great book based on sound theology and written with a good amount of self-examination - well, maybe that's to be expected from the title. I have no idea anymore where my mom is spritually and whether or not the Scripture references or sometimes-"Christianese" will speak to her, but I pray that it'll beckon her heart and open her mind to something more solid than "Soul Power."

Which - okay, this is for a separate post, but - makes me pause and "tsk tsk" myself because I need to learn how to grow in my faith while being tolerant of other people's beliefs. Love others without necessarily loving their lifestyles. I don't know how to do that. Okay, that's Not true, but I think it's becoming increasingly difficult for me, as well as negotiating the point at which I try to talk about spiritual things. Maybe it shouldn't be a switch, like "On/Off," but a natural outpouring, honest and up front about faith from the start. Gee, I've heard that a lot before.

This makes me think of something I mulled over with friends last week, "needing to do stuff" and feeling obligated to grow yourself a certain way, like you're a botanist grafting and hacking at your own messed up tree of life, and when you're unhappy with the way it looks, disciplining the branches into shapes, one way or another. Sigh.

-
My family bought a bird feeder about a month ago, so now we spend half our meals watching for birds and commenting on the wildlife flying outside our bay window. My sister said there's cardinal who comes back to the window repeatedly and hovers outside our kitchen, like he'll run into the window sometimes and then he'll do it again a day later. She says she's pretty sure it's the same bird and she thinks he remembers the window's there. And she says he's a crazy cardinal. I said, Let's name it. I chose "Richelieu," nickname Richie, for the backseat driver to the French monarchy, trusted advisor while France had a child king - Crazy! But I've just looked up Cardinal Richelieu on Wikipedia, and he doesn't seem as crazy as I remembered.

"This I Believe"

2009-05-12T12:11:00.005-04:00

I'm excited about our RA summer reading! It's called This I Believe: The Personal Philosophies of Remarkable Men and Women. I just picked it up from Angie (Housefellow) at SDO and it looks really good. I skimmed the table of contents and people's essays look kind of quirky but truthful, and that should be cool and thought-provoking. Then I randomly opened to something by William F. Buckley, Jr., who's been on my reading list for the last year (http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Cancel-Your-Own-Goddam-Subscription/William-F-Buckley/e/9780465002429/?itm=2), and his piece is on something very dear to me, "How is it Possible to Believe in God?" I can't wait to see what else people have written about and size up their beliefs next to my own, and am definitely going to try to read with an open mind, with my own beliefs ready to be shaped.

It'd be cool to do this with residents, someone talked about "six-word memoirs," asking people to summarize something very important to them (like a principle or guiding piece of wisdom or something they learned from an experience) and maybe put it on their doors, then get together in small groups and share stories.

Yes, I have something to read on the way to Michigan!

-
Okay so I wasn't kidding about wanting to learn Hindi, and it turns out my library back home has Hindi language CDs! I'm going to spend a lot of time driving back and forth from work this summer, so I decided I want to do something with it, either invest in good music or maybe learn a language (a couple people have also suggested books on tape, which could be cool). The library has the Pimsleur Language Program CDs, which I just looked up, and the reviews for Hindi aren't so hot, but maybe I'll at least be able to translate "Jai Ho" for you!

Ooh I could also spend the time praying.

Rock candy's melted, only diamonds now remain

2009-05-09T02:08:00.009-04:00

I can't wait to go home.

I needed something beautiful to look at, so I started looking at family photos and vacation pictures.

I don't even know if we're going on vacation this year. I don't even know if I'll be able to go if we do.

But I can't wait. Summer at home. I feel so at peace just thinking about it. And excited, but right now, just serene.

I feel rooted in time, somehow. The last wave of stress has ebbed away and now I'm just here, neither looking backward at something unchangeable nor peering into the future at things to be done, sitting on the shore and not moving. I'm just basking in the idea of my sunny Maryland summer and memories of my family hanging out together. I love them. I love the four of them as individuals, but I love spending time with all of them at once. My dad plays jokes on my siblings and my mom makes the room light up when she's having a good day. My sister and I sing songs at dinner and my brother and me do voice impressions. We're kind of quirky when we're around each other, but interdependent and mostly functional. I'm idealistic and think we're better when we're together. And even though we change and learn and grow over time, God makes a way for us to still relate to one another and want to support each other. It's incredible and makes me smile.

relational evangelism

2009-05-08T03:32:00.000-04:00

"i carry your heart with me"

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

A risk, a chance, an opportunity for adventure

2009-05-06T15:20:00.003-04:00

There's no better time than the present. If there's something you've been meaning to do or dreaming to do, go for it!

02.

2009-03-22T02:12:00.000-04:00

dec. 24, 2008
3:20A

hey,

you're the guy who, three and a half years after i thought you broke my heart, i can imagine meeting in a coffee shop twenty years into the future, and, if we were both still single and searching, laughing about where it went wrong and falling in love again. i fell too in love with things you said online - too many of our conversations were via the internet, too quickly; that was one of the problems - and even though i knew it altered the presentation of things and the time you had to deliberate and place each crafty, flirtatious remark, thought you were so funny and intelligent and profound. so much of it was speculation, i thought you were interested, our mutual friends told me and told each other they noticed something different about you, you behaved like you were making up your mind (but that the odds of us dating were good). what was up with that? you were a confusing guy. when you call someone out on playing mindgames, you should do it in person (my mistake), but it seems like i accused you of not being straight with me many, many times. and you just couldn't seem to get it together. i knew i was attracted to you. i was so frustrated when we had one-on-one conversations, three of which i remember distinctly (and i now realize they were all at or within 100 feet of my house), and you wouldn't look me in the eye, and you spoke figuratively and unclearly, and i couldn't understand what you meant, and you talked about things that were plain infuriating (talking about indulgences and the crusades and the ludicrousy of the catholic church). you really pushed my self-righteous side, i thought i was so great for putting up with you.

you know what? now i'm just annoyed. two things i've learned since going to college: one, a great conversation - great conversations, plural - cannot be the sole basis for a relationship (my frequent mistake). two, if a man really wants to be with you, he will muster up the boldness to confess his feelings. by sheer necessity to prove that he has male hormones, he will say that he likes you or devise some plan to spend time with you. if not, he may be dense, he may be nervous, he may be shy; but most likely, you, the girl, are misguided.

i'm a sucker for guys with dimples. there, i said it. now you know!

hey

2009-03-22T01:45:00.003-04:00

hi.

it's been a while. i'm negligent, but in my heart always promised i would come back. here i am.

-
last year when i blogged regularly, i said i thought i could write 50 love letters. i toyed with the idea of writing them all and then posting them intermittently as filler posts when i had nothing interesting to say or time to spend making my thoughts decipherable. i finally started writing them over winter break but only managed to write two of them. they're really short.

singleness and marriage and dating and relationships have been stirring around in my head a lot lately, and i've finally reached a satisfactory view on them (for now), namely that the middle two aren't a given and shouldn't be treated as such, and that a person isn't deficient for not having experienced them or for not having them presently. i'm not in a place where i'm consoling myself or bitter towards men (men are great!), just finally able to dispel this weird value system i've had for so long where i placed so much weight on the relationship - that kind of relationship - i could have with another person (and all this never having had a significant other). it's strange, i feel kind of hollowed out or sedated, like someone dipped my neurons in glue or molasses. i swear, i used to get so worked up thinking about this. now when i think about being single, i feel a little lonely, but not because i actually believe i am alone. i am loved and appreciated and recognize this - and i love and appreciate so many people in my life. the speck of loneliness is a curiosity about the unknown and how my life would be changed if i was special to someone "in that way." it's a pang of discontent that i don't know yet how that could fit into my life if i had it, and it's me wondering what that different kind of happiness would be like. i mean, i was able to articulate long ago that your emotions should never hinge on one person, but i haven't completely ruled out the possibility of dating. sometimes i just wonder

so i'll be posting the letters by their numbers. i miss writing and being written to.
i feel like i'm sending messages in bottles or talking into an empty room - not expecting to be found or overheard, but completely open to possibility of being discovered.

7. do five things i have never done before

2009-01-07T19:09:00.002-05:00

FEBRUARY
1. Play a lead role in a play

JUNE/JULY
2. Make friends with old people

SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER
3. Surprise someone on her birthday

NOVEMBER
4. Vote

DECEMBER
5. Drive a rental car

First resolution of the new year: Remember my resolutions

2009-01-02T00:07:00.007-05:00

From: Sharon
Subject: phrase-a-day
Date: Thu, January 31, 2008, 11:57 pm

chere stacy,

quelles sont tes resolutions pour le nouvel an?

i didn't make any . . . but i think i have a few (or possibly just things to give up over lent):

1. stop fidgeting (playing with earrings, necklaces, rubbing my eyes, running my fingers through my hair, swinging my legs, tapping my pencil, fussing with things on my desk while i'm talking . . . basically just SIT STILL, especially when i am speaking! i just took my earrings out because i was doing it - the big pink jewel ones with a little clasp, do you know which one i'm talking about?)
2. procrastinate less
3. read 19 more books this year, maybe more!
4. appreciate people more
5. let them know!
6. relax
7. do five things i have never done before
8. learn to figure out what went wrong when things go wrong, and then learn from it, but not agonize/constantly recall what went wrong

probably more, but . . . i will think of them later! i like doing new year's resolutions on the last day of the first month :)

love, sharon

(The only one I thought about vaguely throughout the year was No. 7.)

We spent New Year's Day cleaning house

2009-01-01T23:33:00.010-05:00

Behind my dad's back.

My family hoards junk. Truth undeniable. We let years pass before we go on major cleaning sprees, and even then, the questionable pricelessness of some of the stuff we find means that we put a lot of it back into closets and cabinets to chill some more. And to avoid my dad rescuing "memories" from the trash, my mom has skipped wastebins in the past and set stuff straight out on the curb. But then, "Why did you recycle these newspapers? These headlines were historical, we should keep these!"

Mmhm, packrats are us. (It really is all of us.) But Dad was surprisingly cooperative today! Since my cousin and her family left on Sunday (fussy two-year old in tote), we've been itching to revamp our household organization. So today we recycled/threw out old drinking cups (plastic, from the kiddie days), candy, glass jars (the uses are endless when they're lidless, with the salsa washed out), homemade candles that smelled like crayons, old (empty) cookie tins, boxes, old bath toys, and things from our freezer that my mom had completely forgotten about. Dad stepped in the kitchen towards the end and approved the discard pile/pitched in.

I'm glancing at my bookshelf and thinking I may continue tomorrow - I have years of school papers that I actually will Not reference or remember the contents of. Ever. And a lot of paperbacks that no one in my family will read, I should figure out where to donate those. I also have sweaters that I haven't worn in years that my sister probably won't want. They say you should get rid of anything you haven't used or worn in a year, and I have a lot of those.

I love decluttering. A great way to start off the new year.

I wonder if Santa Claus procrastinates

2008-12-24T01:13:00.006-05:00

Every Christmas that I've celebrated since since going away to college has snuck up and seemed to materialize from exam week like apparitions from an adrenaline shock, but with less and less luster. The past two Christmases have arrived minus the gift-giving and song-singing and the red-and-green heraldry and advent countdowns of so many years past. Once we've hit December, it's the academic traditions first, then the holiday festivities, that my friends and I have anticipated.

What made childhood and high school Christmases different? The buzz and the glow, the mildly intoxicating lure of the holidays that I've remembered and craved mid-October for the past two years but struggled to concoct come the last few days before December 25. Part-visual spectacle: The appearance of a place being wholly transformed by lights and metallic tones and ribbon, like walking through some hopped-up theme park within negotiable driving distance. The visual coordination of colors and decorations - it's abnormal to see, and I would get excited because the arrival of Christmas was like going to some fantasy land. Come college, and the departure of free time and any inclination to spend money, I didn't really shop, I didn't really decorate (less and less each year - a small tree and lights the first year, lights the second year; nothing this year), and I didn't see "Christmas" as I visually partnered the holiday when I was younger.

The music. Christmas music hasn't become any less enjoyable. But I'm not listening to it right now. When I've gotten in my car - this past week, to go to a friend's house to bake Christmas cookies, to shop for Christmas gifts for my family - I haven't tuned to the station playing Christmas songs. I think it's been mainly to escape the commercials. But the songs also don't carry the same magical wonder-excitement they used to have.

I wasn't disappointed when I outgrew Santa. I maintained the pretense for my sister, who was probably a year or two old at the time. I didn't feel deceived, I didn't feel let down. It was like coming to a common understanding, and it made sense. Santa was less a figment of my imagination than a symbol of a dated impression, a sense of wonder that had changed into something more concrete and rooted in strengthened values.

The things with which I associate Christmas: Hope, joy, peace, love. The kinds of transformation that couldn't be disagreeable - Christmas lights can be garish, but true kindness cannot - and the "magic" that Christ's birth conjures in people that is its own kind of wonderful. That's something that I now partner with Christmas, but not something that makes me especially look forward to the time. The date marks the time and serves as a reminder, but those are things I cherish year-round. And hopefully things I share with people year-round, too.

"Are you guys excited for Christmas this year?" Tracey wanted to know. I explained all of the above in a few words. "No, not really."

"That's sad."

Why? "Keep Christmas with you, all through the year" - a line from a Sesame Street Christmas movie I would watch every year when I was little. It's not so bad.

- -
On second thought (Christmas music): Traditional Christmas songs mean a lot more to me now. I mean them more when I sing them. "Joy to the world! The Lord is come. Let earth receive her king!"

"Remember, Christ our savior was born on Christmas Day to save us all from Satan’s power, when we were gone astray. Oh tidings of comfort and joy!"

I have three hours to finish my history paper

2008-12-16T15:03:00.005-05:00

"I'd like to think the best of me is still hiding up my sleeve."

:)

(Placeholder for future entries. This history paper is giving me grief.)

+
a writing sample! something i wrote yesterday for an alumni newsletter.

Imagine the patience required to reclaim the control freaks of the world. Particularly the well-intentioned ones who tell you one thing – “This is no sacrifice; here’s my life” – and within hours return to worrying and micromanaging. This past summer and semester have been an evolving, suprising lesson in patience. I entered the fall semester of my junior year ready to listen to God’s call. He’d been asking for my patience with life plans, interactions with loved ones and acquaintances, as well as something unidentified and upcoming. God is very good at waiting until He has your attention before completely turning the tables. This past October, our regional fall conference, Harvest, was themed “Playing for Keeps: All in for the Kingdom” and focused on Acts 6, obedience, and giving all parts of our lives to God. There were playful but sobering references to the times we claim to “go all in” for God while reserving “special poker chips” for ourselves that we don’t want Him to touch. It was an apt comparison because trusting God often feels like a gamble. Towards the end of the weekend, I became very aware that I’d been trying to make decisions that would give me predictable and controllable outcomes (mostly school- and career-related) and that the attempt to schedule my life so deliberately was a farce next to my promise to God to serve Him in all things. I don’t think God makes fun of us as much as He is puzzled or frustrated by our actions, but I’d be okay if He laughed really hard right now. I waited a few months for Him to send me a message; He’s been waiting all my life for me to understand that He has sovereign command over my life. My understanding is growing, but I’ve learned that God’s peace surpasses understanding, and compared to my patience, which I thought had been stretched, God’s patience is redemptive and wonderful. I’m not normally this grateful to have been put in my place.

2008-06-26T22:06:00.008-04:00

dear 11-year-old me,

thanks for amusement eight years in the making. i can't believe you. i can't believe me. astonishing and hilarious!

2008-06-07T23:29:00.000-04:00

lightening strikes, maybe once, maybe twice,
and it all comes down to you.

2008-06-02T10:47:00.003-04:00

I had a bowl of Cheerios in one hand and a glass of water in the other, and to commemorate Summer, I convinced myself to do one thing at a time - "Wait, sit down," don't go upstairs and watch Grey's Anatomy while you're eating your breakfast.

I sat down at the kitchen table and was struck by how alone I was. By the sun flooding in through the bay window and the French-style porch doors filled with light. By all of the space I had to think. And I thought of my grandfather. So many summers he visited us and sat in the chair to my right, the head of the table, eating his breakfast in silence. Oh, not for lack of things to say. I'd developed a habit of minimizing the overlap time of our breakfasts so that as he sat down I was just finishing. He felt it was necessary - I felt it was boring and constraining - to dispense no-doubt hard-earned pearls of wisdom whenever he could, whenever it was just him and me, his flighty, dreaming, American granddaughter. True to form, I nodded obediently and then slipped away at any convenient interim in that day's life lesson.

Every summer I used to wonder vaguely whether that would be the last time I'd see my maternal grandparents, then feel no remorse as school started and life filled in the empty guest room, the two chairs at the kitchen table, the spaces my grandpa and grandma occupied. The first two weeks without them would be strange, and I would miss them, and then gradually I would get caught up in other thiings and think about them less. Because they were my relatives, but a seasonal part of my life. I might have counted on seeing them again, the two were so intertwined - Summer and Grandparents visiting. And later on I knew I would see them: They were trying to get their citizenship and had to come to the States every year. I wonder if I saw them for the last time eight years ago, the last time I went back to Taiwan. My family went back last summer, but I stayed home and went to my Differential Equations class.

If I could sit at a kitchen table with my grandfather again, I wouldn't run away. I would ask him to tell me stories. That's something that's changed in me - I hesitate less before I ask questions. One thing I've learned as I've gotten older is that no one expects you to know everything (people expect you to be curious). So questions are okay. I'd squirm a little less if he decided to share grandfatherly wisdom with me. And I would ask him to tell me about of the funniest things that happened to him as a boy.

- - -
My grandfather drinks a lot of water. He's kind of a fitness nut, and he's really in shape. He goes walking every morning, complete with warm-up and cool-down stretches. This is what I thought about as I filled up the Brita pitcher this morning.

Yesterday, my mom was telling me about a book she'd browsed through at Barnes and Noble, something in the self-care/medicine section. "Haha, yeah, that's what my RA said his mom would always tell him!" For all minor ailments, colds, etc., "Drink some water and get sleep!" Oh, the curative powers of water . . .

Oh Schmap!

2008-06-01T00:30:00.006-04:00

Random. Haha.

From: "Emma Williams"
Subject: [Flickr] Schmap: Germany Photo Short-list
Date: Wednesday, May 14, 2008 11:24:46 AM

I am writing to let you know that one of your photos has been short-listed for inclusion in the second edition ofour Schmap Germany Guide, to be published
mid-June 2008.

While we offer no payment for publication, many photographers are pleased to submit their photos, as Schmap Guides give their work recognition and wide exposure, and are free of charge to readers. Photos are published at a maximum width of 150 pixels, are clearly attributed, andlink to high-resolution originals at Flickr.

Why not.

From: "Emma Williams"
Subject: [Flickr] Schmap Germany Second Edition: Photo Inclusion
Date: Friday, May 30, 2008 1:08:03 PM

You've been sent a Flickr Mail from Emma J. Williams:
------------------------------------------------------------
:: Schmap Germany Second Edition: Photo Inclusion

I am delighted to let you know that your submitted photo has been selected for inclusion in the newly released second edition of our Schmap
Germany Guide:

Wittelsbacher fountain
http://www.schmap.com/germany/attractions/p=22068/i=22068.jpg
Thanks so much for letting us include your photo - please enjoy the guide!
Best regards,
Emma Williams,
Managing Editor, Schmap Guides

Once you lose the bad distaste of idleness

2008-05-31T11:33:00.003-04:00

Summer is simple, gorgeous

stifling, humid

summer storms

ceiling fans

rocking out to summer jams

driving in the scorching heat

cruising to a tough bass beat

summer twighlight at 8:30

waking up at midday:30

the summer storms . . . "has sharon closed the windows yet?" of your car, she means, which is parked outside and at the mercy of the clouds. don't you wish you could tap dance like those raindrops do? but really, who doesn't find a bath refreshing? if you're lucky, it might last twenty minutes or more, and from your bedroom windowside, to lounge and watch the white rain cut across the torpid air is most invigorating.

one of the best things about summer: driving. windows down, music loud, no AC, just driving in the heat with a call-in requests radio station in the background playing the same fifteen top 40 songs every two hours

the best thing about summer

is that anything is possible

if you can get your mind around the fact that you aren't expected to do anything at all

2008-05-09T05:12:00.005-04:00

Okay, yes, I'm going to bed, but - haha - this article:

"The torch en route" - IHT.com
http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/05/08/opinion/edcollins.php

"Has anyone else noticed how much the presidential campaign and the Olympics are starting to resemble one another?"

aaaah

P.S.
So maybe I will sleep inside my coat and / wait on your porch til you come back home / oh, right. i can't find a flight / so i check the weather wherever you are, cause i want to know if you can see the stars tonight / might be my only right / we share the sadness, split-screen sadness

crises with my packing tape

2008-05-09T04:09:00.002-04:00

oh my gosh. so nostalgic about so much right now.

listening to chopin's etude in e. trying to write thank-you notes to my bosses at work. looking at old MS Word files instead . . . ! aaah gosh i will have to post some of these later. letters i've written, poetry, short stories, essays, journals. my writing style's changed a lot (thank goodness - i think i liked it best in middle school before the vocab assignments became overintensive and i thesaurus'd like every other word for a more erudite-sounding synonym), but i've kind of been thinking about the same things for the past seven years. that's not so great! but i'm getting back into writing (evidenced here), so i've got some original stuff coming, i just need to copy some of it over into Word (to be read again in another seven years! eeek).

something else i have saved - the itinerary from my choir trip to europe two summers ago, the summer before college. gosh. GOSH that was two years ago, i

no, not "i barely remember it," i remember it, i look at the pictures and can still sing the songs, i loved the cities and the food, but this itinerary brings it back in a whole other way - it has everything we did, every planned event and hotel where we stayed, restaurant where we ate, every dish we ate (dinners were planned and pre-ordered), all our concert events and the times, oh my gosh, i don't think i ever read this through back on . . . Date Modified: Friday, July 20, 2007, 10:44 P.M. So that was after we got back, about three weeks. I must have saved it off of my email before I deleted all of those "Eurotrip emails." I'm not going to read it through now, either (goodness! travel plans down to the minute! and how far away things were from one another). It's just comforting to know it's here. Even though I forgot about it.

Why'd I just switch into capitalization? Okay.

"Cherish truth, pardon error." VOLTAIRE

I re-read a letter i sent to elaine and at the time i wrote it, i was simultaneously watching "tadpole," which has periodic quotes, just quotes on a black background, because the main character likes to read and is a bit of a scholar.

i like that quote. sums up my year.

gosh. i've changed. i can finally say it! i've . . . learned and grown and so much more this year than last year and i'm willing to admit it. and i've done disreputable, questionable things; found fault in others; lamented faults in myself; but at the end of the day (year), ugh . . . you have to let it go. stupid boys and petty fights and bad communication (lack of communication!), you can't overlook it, but after a certain amount of time, there's nothing to do but drop it and laugh and love and hope for better. and know that tomorrow is another day, and if it was something worthwhile to begin with, you will get another chance. to fix it, to leave it, to make something new . . . and though your views may change and you may abandon some precepts for others, at the heart of things there should be a real heart (uhh redundant? a real . . . effort) to seek out truth and to be true to yourself, your values, God, however uncertain all that may be.

paraphrased, but another quote on truth i discovered while reading "please, mr. einstein" last summer:
"I was asked whether I thought the opposite of truth was a mistake or a lie." "Which did you say?" "If my colleagues are to be believed," Einstein says, "I said, 'The opposite of truth is truth."

absence note! (where did april go?)

2008-04-30T18:53:00.003-04:00

semi-blog kept on my computer - bite-sized journal entries from the past month and a half.
my gosh, where has april gone?

3/19, 10:07a
today and about the same time yesterday: "bagel, peanut butter and jelly!" (today: "plain bagel, peanut butter and jelly!") yesterday at kiva han. today at hunt library.

odd . . .

3/22, 9:51a
I mean, isn't it a sign that humans are inherently paradoxical by the sheer notion of reason? We tend towards explanation and organization and hope to overstep the barriers of disorder when that's where nature says we should go.

4/3, 10:52p
paper plates and plaited paper
what a dapper diningwear cooler

4/9, 11:46p
every word, only once
read it - try it - quickly
(France and the Great War)

(Edit: Haha and I only read three chapters of this book - about half. Obviously the effort I put forth didn't amount to much.)

4/13, 10:41p
too bad, timeless
commonplace
unfortunate
too bad that we're time-less
it can't last forever
we watched it run out

i'm not trying to sound pretentious or premeditated
i'm just frustrated
(sigh)
you can count the beats
we can strike that discord
i will count the time
it can't last forever
we watched it run out

true, true. i could not honestly say it was all you.
true, true.
although you were at fault, you were oblivious
oblivion
how serious.
hilarious
i wish you'd just . . .

can you count the time?
i'm too busy to keep track of the
days, the noons, the hours and the
seconds we're apart
you know, it's better
i think it's better.
you be my timepiece, and i will be here

finally a way out
let's go out tonight
x our different ways, respective
i cannot stand the burden
but maybe it will lift?
or maybe i'm just
counting in the future
where the seconds are uncertain
time draws out in the present
does it realign sometime?
x will you be mine sometime?

you can count the beats
we can strike that discord
i will count the time
it can't last forever
we watched it run out

(EDIT: "x" means possible omission)

- -
two months behind on Vogue
and just behind in general

4/16, 12:27a
and these colored pencils
paint skylines on her browlines
while she contemplates the bylines
over coffee

and the crinoline
how it's crinkled in the background, over rattan chairs, the porch air is so comforting and

spoons. minus tarnish, next to garnish
set politely on the breakfast tray
unfolds her napkin, folds her paper
my, what a lovely day, the sky's so clear

the day's so dapper

what beauty true

i only wish that you were
here.

(EDIT: I posted this one!)

4/16, 1:00a
but you know
proximity has such an advantage

maybe it was almost simultaneous

(EDIT: I can't even remember what I meant by this. I think friend drama back home. I should footnote my entries or write notes to myself.)

4/30, 6:43p
well, i'm willing to be proven wrong
if you'd like to give it a try
i just don't believe in love
i don't believe in trust at first sight

i think i'm waiting to get it right
if you'd maybe like to come along
we can try and err
and with you there
it just might work out, turn out better
it just might turn out better

I hope you noticed my foray into songwriting :) I'm practicing! I have a draft of your song, but it still needs a lot of work and is far from finished. So in the meantime I'm brushing up on my rhymes and humming a lot.

For a while we had the weather to go along with it (humming), all sunshine and spring. Now it's sunshine and chilly. Which doesn't belong in May. (But is perfectly at home in Pittsburgh.)

P.S. I'm 25 days behind on my French phrase-a-day calendar. I never thought I'd be one of those people - you know, you see those rip-a-page-a-day pads on office desks or countertops, and it's a month behind, and you think, gosh, (whoever), You need to get your life together, you don't even have enough time to read a joke a day/learn a phrase a day/process some wise quote a day, what, are you overworked or just lazy?

I'm both. Bah.

"Nous allons devoir emprunter pour pouvoir payer." We'll have to take out a loan to pay for it.

I was curious

2008-04-16T00:43:00.000-04:00

and these colored pencils
paint skylines on her browlines while she contemplates the bylines over coffee

and the crinoline
how it's crinkled in the background, over rattan chairs, the porch air is so comforting and

spoons. minus tarnish, next to garnish
set politely on the breakfast tray
unfolds her napkin, folds her paper
my, what a lovely day, the sky's so clear

the day's so dapper

what beauty true

i only wish that you were
here.

lifeoptimizer.org

2008-03-18T01:14:00.006-04:00

French phrase of the day for Tuesday, March 18: J'aimerais avoirs plus de temps libre. "I wish I had more free time."

Unbelievable. My phrase-of-the-day calendar is mocking me.

- -
So whenever I have an unresolvable grammar problem, I Google the word and multiple usages (this goes for French papers as well as English papers, lab reports, and everything between). The quandary of a few minutes ago was "indispensable" (I had intially typed "indispensable (noted: -able, not -ible) for," saved, closed; and then when I re-read it, I thought, "indispensable to?"). Google confirms! And returns a link to "30 Practical Tips to Make Yourself Indispensable to Others," separated into six categories: Belonging, Esteem, Learning, Aesthetic, Self-Actualization, and Transcendence. On the sidebar, links to "15 Tips to Stay Positive in Negative Situations" and "30 Ways to Increase Your Mental Capacity" and "26 Tips to Stay Calm When Situation Goes Bad." And then somewhere, I can't find it anymore, "37 Lessons to Help You Live a Life that Matters." Aw. Items 27, 28, 35, 16, and 15: Harvest failure, always make new mistakes, surround yourself with A-players (haha!), listen to that little voice, and be yourself.

I think today was the first St. Patrick's Day that I FORGOT it was St. Patrick's Day and subsequently didn't wear any green. Nada. Overheard someone else comment on the date this morning in lab (conspicuous lack of green attire in the MSE dept.). Which means today (now the day after St. Pattie's) is my brother's birthday and he's a year older! Nine! Oh my gosh! I remember when my sister turned nine, or I remember asking her if she was excited to turn ten the next year. And she said she sort of was. Kenny's reaction was the same.

I can't believe he's growing up.

Sigh.

My corollary to "surrounding myself with A-players" was to always keep the company of people over ten years younger than me. Be among the very young at heart and all that. And I still do, but that ten-year age difference is becoming smaller and smaller. You can't joke about the same cheesy things with a nine-year old that you could with an eight-year old and still get an appreciative response (use the word "magic" with any recourse to humor and now the best you'll get will be a " . . . Right."); you find yourself the mantra of hassled caretakers to huffy schoolagers: Be patient, just wait - would you please be patient?? Things just can't wait when you're nine. Everything still has its novelty and you can't wait to show it to people, you just hope they'll be impressed. I hope I was impressed enough. Yo-yo tricks and new Pokemon and dinnertime stories about the author who had visited his school to talk about Alaskan voyages and a new storybook. My life certainly isn't as exciting as any of that. But when you don't respond immediately and the steadily higher and higher-pitched intonations of "Come see this!" don't stop, you wonder if you missed the boundary between maintaining interest and lavishing too much attention. I miss my brother. I see myself in him. He's got a bit of the only child in him because my sister is now too busy with school to play with him all the time, and Mom and Dad too tired and removed by work. He entertains himself, plays with stuffed animals, plays his video games, complains of boredom, tells me that I sleep too much, all the while hoping that someone will just pretend with him for a little while . . .

And so I did.

This Spring Break will be the break I reconnected with old friends. I saw and spoke to people who I'd known in high school who I hadn't had real conversations with for a year and a half. I will remember it as the break I watched my first Pokemon movie. And slept through some of it the on the first viewing. The break I baked a batch of cookies, but spooned the cookies a little bigger than I normally do (so there were fewer cookies) and had to bake another batch two days later because my sister wouldn't stop pestering me about it. The break I played "Dear Frog" with my brother and we pretended our frog stuffed animals wrote letters to each other and voiced our respective frogs, "Frog" and "Frogg." And hopefully I'll remember the last Spring Break my brother was still a child. Because he'll always be a kid in my eyes. But he's growing up. I'm powerless to stop it, and I don't want to. It's just . . . time. (:

- -
From "30 Practical Tips to Make Yourself Indispensable to Others"

Learning

- Send them your favorite quotes.
- Take the time to do small research to answer their questions.
- Lend them your favorite books.
- Spark their curiosity by asking them smart questions.
- Tell them your favorite web sites to learn from.
- Send them the articles you find that might help them.
- Passionately share your learning experiences; it’s contagious.

Aesthetic

- Lend them your favorite CDs or DVDs.
- Tell them where they can learn to play music.
- Tell them where they can learn to draw (Drawspace is a good start by the way).
- Share your favorite wallpapers and pictures.
- Let them know of interesting cultural events you hear about.
Self-actualization

- Encourage them to find their life purpose.
- Encourage them to follow their heart more than the expectations of others.
- Share with them inspirational stories about men and women who are willing to pay
the price to do what matters to them (e.g. Nelson Mandela, Mother Teresa).

(I liked those! I do those with my friends all the time :D, esp. "Learning")

unconsidered glamor

2008-03-15T01:21:00.004-04:00

I'm doing some history reading

Gosh, I was just so struck by the wording in that sentence, by that phrase. I mean, my first contemplation of a dictator would have nothing to do with the glamor of his regime, but now that I've seen the usage in print, I would say, yes, definitely! A dictatorship is glamorous for its leader and his cronies! Your life is like a rockstar's, I mean, who's going to tell you what's what, and if someone does, you just snap your fingers and it's not a problem anymore. Anything you want, mostly anything you could want if you were in that position - power, fame, wealth, status, influence. Drugs, women. And yet they're so fickle, the success of the one-hit wonder/the popularity of the "staged a coup, so-and-so" government. It's conjuring images of VH1 "The Fabulous Life." ("Take a fast-paced, first class joy ride of lavish living, as we check out the fortune building careers and businesses of the extremely rich and famous and the incredible indulgences that come with it.")

I just never thought of it that way. Dictators would be too busy being angry and tyrannical and stewing in the ambient instability of absolute power (so-called) to enjoy the perks, right? Right? Gosh what do you do with all that power anyway. Be like Candide! Mind your own garden!

So my admiration (EDIT: awe; "admiration" was poor word choice) so expressed is pretty grotesque and now I'm back to reality, I'm thinking of Last King of Scotland and how bouncy and happy Amin could be, but then how cruel and twisted his regime was. Just got caught up in the words, that's all.

("Perhaps the June Days might have had similar consequences if republican leadership after 1848 had been equal to that after 1871 and if there had been in 1848 no young and glamorous aspirant dictator on the scene, ready to take advantage of republican division and conservative fears. In 1871 Napoleon III was old and ailing, his son young and untried, and luckily for the republic, no other substitute turned up." Wright, France in Modern Times)

a story.

2008-03-15T00:40:00.002-04:00

we were at a wal-mart
in formal wear
(divya and tracey were there, too).
and there were $300 sunglasses there,
there was a pair with mint-green frames that i liked.
we had to look for something! i don't know. it was a scavenger hunt or something.
and i couldn't find you. called.

"where are you?"

"i'm going somewhere where you can see me. (i walk towards the front of the store) i'm sitting next to the grand piano (made of mahogany wood; on a bench-ottoman upholstered in brown leather with buttons along diagonals on the surface; in a wal-mart?)"

and you found me

and we walked.

wal-mart plus started looking like an elementary school?

we stepped out onto the back porch (wal-mart?) and it overlooked a street. i guess we were in pittsburgh. and we were leaning on the railing, you on my right, i on your left, looking up and down the street, and you asked me where we should go for dinner. anywhere you want.

and then i can't remember now how we got to that point, we were just talking, and then maybe we hugged over something inconsequential, and then you were holding me.
you told me you loved me.

i knew it, i'd known it all along, but in that moment i couldn't believe it. i mean, who would

i said it back. maybe you didn't believe me either, or you just couldn't hear me (i'm incoherent if the situation's too tense), but you asked me to say it again. and again. "i love you, too."

i mean, i don't know,

memory? dream? confabulation . . . it was too real.

Take me out

2008-03-12T23:08:00.007-04:00

Haha! Uh.

The progression's a little more logical if you read them in reverse. Well, maybe not.

Mine was the one on the bottom, the middle one was my brother's, and the top one was my sister's. I tried to rephrase it for her, "It's just saying to be prepared for worst-case scenarios!" But she's smart. "Be pessimistic all the time."

That's so sad! (Who write the fortunes now, anyway?)

http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/10/08/business/08fortune.php

"It happened to me, but it's like watching TV."

2008-03-12T15:17:00.013-04:00

I watched Vertigo Saturday night. My first Hitchcock – just superb, it was really, really good. I actually screamed at the end! New point on my to-do list: Watch more of his films.

I have a print of one of the panels in Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe that I bought at the Whitney Art Museum in New York three summers ago. Today I saw it sitting on my dresser and wondered, Were Warhol and Hitchcock friends? They might have been contemporaries. Did they influence one another? Did they collaborate? What sort of conversations did they have? I’ll bet they would have had really good conversations . . .

Well, three Google searches later:

Lot 219: Alfred Hitchcock - Featured on Invaluable.com

Warhol had the opportunity to interview Hitchcock for the September 1974 issue of Interview magazine, and talked to the director about some of the stars he had worked with as well the themes of Hitchcock's films, particularly the ways in which the director drew material from true crime stories. Warhol openly proclaimed that he was nervous upon meeting the legendary director, and posed with Hitchcock by kneeling at his feet. The meeting of these two icons of the 20th century is particularly significant, as each bridged high art and popular culture in unique ways, intriguing audiences with both the heights of glamour as well as the depths of the macabre.
ANDY WARHOL: Since you know all these cases, did you ever figure out why people really murder? It's always bothered me. Why.
ALFRED HITCHCOCK: Well I'll tell you. Years ago, it was economic, really. Especially in England. First of all, divorce was very hard to get, and it cost a lot of money.
WARHOL: But what kind of person really murders? I mean, why.
HITCHCOCK: In desperation. They do it in desperation.
WARHOL: Really?....
HITCHCOCK: Absolute desperation. They have nowhere to go, there were no motels in those days, and they'd have to go behind the bushes in the park. And in desperation they would murder.
WARHOL: But what about a mass murderer.
HITCHCOCK: Well, they are psychotics, you see. They're absolutely psychotic. They're very often impotent. As I showed in "Frenzy." The man was completely impotent until he murdered and that's how he got his kicks. But today of course, with the Age of the Revolver, as one might call it, I think there is more use of guns in the home than there is in the streets. You know? And men lose their heads?
WARHOL: Well I was shot by a gun, and it just seems like a movie. I can't see it as being anything real. The whole thing is still like a movie to me. It happened to me, but it's like watching TV. If you're watching TV, it's the same thing as having it done to yourself.
HITCHCOCK: Yes. Yes.
WARHOL: So I always think that people who do it
must feel the same way.
HITCHCOCK: Well a lot of it's done on the spur of the moment. You know.
WARHOL: Well if you do it once, then you can do it again, and if you keep doing it, I guess it's just something to do.
HITCHCOCK: Well it depends whether you've disposed of the first body. That is a slight problem. After you've committed your first murder.
WARHOL: Yes, so if you do that well, then you're on your way. See, I always thought that butchers could do it very easily.I always thought that butchers could be the best murderers.
(Andy Warhol's Interview Magazine, September 1974)

Have you seen Sweeney Todd yet? I'll go see it when it shows for a dollar in the UC. Warhol was onto something.

P.S. Spring break is so good.

P.P.S. Your Birthday Mix is amazing! I love it, I just thought you should know.

The Cool-o-meter

2008-03-02T02:01:00.007-05:00

COOL
- Eating at Orient Express for the first time since Winter Break
- At work today, talking to Ray, the 60-/70-year old CMITES employee in charge of publicity, newsletters and website, about History. About how we hated it in middle school and in high school and how later in life (oh-so-much later in my case!!) we appreciated it much more and, dare we say, even loved it. About how it's taught in school when it's a requirement (wrong), about how we had no idea about context until later (his examples, what was happening politically when Bach composed such-and-such, what music did people listen to during the French Revolution?), and about how wonderful Antonia Fraser's narrative style is (his read, my read)
- Starting my lab report!

French phrase of the day for Saturday, March 1: C'était un être à part! "He had a style all his own!"

NOT COOL
- Trying to put up CMITES signs at 7:50 in the morning - signs that were put on stakes so that they wouldn't have to be taped to, and subsequently torn off, the sidewalk (ingenious! cost-efficient!). I.e., trying to drive stakes into the ground (frozen) at way-too-early o'clock.
- Lab report! Too much to do!
- Only three All Abouts Girl Scouts cookies left in the box of 21 that I bought . . . Thursday night.

Shamefaced.

(One to add to the reading list: Cancel Your Own Goddam Subscription: Notes and Asides from National Review by William F. Buckley)

where troubles melt like lemon drops, way above the chimney tops

2008-02-28T21:45:00.006-05:00

that's where you'll find me.

i don't know why, but i feel so overwhelmed and sad tonight. i feel like i won't be able to get everything i need to get done before spring break. i should stay in this weekend and work on my lab report and read (oh, so much reading . . . ), but i don't want to. i feel silly because spring break is so close. i feel really distant from everyone. i'm sad because i've been a sloppy, dozing mess in all my classes this week.

i don't know what's wrong with me!

oh gosh . . . i'm never going to get my work done . . .

EDIT
How useful it would be to put a daily limit on self-pity. – Mitch Albom

all right, i'm kicking it into high gear. i couldn't focus before, but now that i've remembered that mitch albom quote, i've decided not to be miserable.

Ca ira mieux l'an prochain.

2008-02-27T03:54:00.003-05:00

French phrase of the day for Tuesday, Feb. 26: "Better luck next year."

when i grow up, i want a cowboy
with dust all over his jeans
with a horse named jack and a ten-gallon hat
he is nice, but he looks so mean
if you were a cowboy, i wonder could i be your girl?

hum-dee-da
too much to do! when am i going to finish my history reading (de tocqueville, recollections: the french revolution of 1848) or my french reading (schwarz-bart, ton beau capitaine - really fascinating concept for a play, by the way; a man plays cassette-recording "letters" from his wife who's in another country, he's the only person onstage)

i need to sleep, but when! tell me, quando, quando, quando!

$111.75

2008-02-25T23:42:00.008-05:00

Plan Name, Current Balance
E-Plaid Flex Dine Extra 07-08 $111.75
Printing Quota-Fall 2007 $6.60
Printing Quota - Spring 2008 $26.40
Plaid Ca$h-Students $0.00

There are a little over ten weeks left in the semester, not counting Spring Break or Finals.
$11.18 a week
$1.60 a day

Omg, I'm going to max out on campus food. I need to stop eating at Skibo.

P.S. Using real money is not a solution! Campus dining venues : my wallet :: Scary rage people from 28 Weeks Later : other people!

P.P.S.
02/18/08 10:55 AM
Remaining balance: $152.74

SO SAD!

tonight will be the night that I will fall for you

2008-02-24T03:37:00.012-05:00

But hold your breathe
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you, over again
Don't make me change my mind
Or I wont live to see another day

French phrase of the day for Friday, Feb. 22:
Les films ne sont plus ce qu'ils etaient. "They don't make movies like they used to."
I saw Michael Clayton in the UC last night. I liked it. I slept through a bit of it. But Elaine explained the confusing parts to me afterwards. Achronological movie plots have gotten a little trendy . . . Too much, lately.

French phrase of the day for Saturday, Feb. 16:
Vivement qu'il fasse beau. "The warm weather will be a treat."
Pittsburgh, please be spring, soon.

10 funny flirting facts

2008-02-16T08:45:00.009-05:00

"10 funny flirting facts"
By Laura Schaefer

So you’ve mastered the eye-contact game and can beckon a cute prospect with a few coy glances… but do you really know all there is to know about the fine art of come-hither? Just to make sure you’re up to speed, we culled some very surprising info that you can use to your advantage. Read on for some juicy tidbits that may up your cute quotient in no time.

1. Flirting is good for you. Studies show that people who flirt have higher white blood-cell counts, which boost their immunity and keep them healthy.

2. Think it ends at a little eye batting? Hardly—all told, scientists say there are 52 “flirting signals” used by humans. Of these, the hair flip is the most common.

3. In some places, flirting is illegal. In Little Rock, AR, an antiquated law is still on the books warning that engaging in playful banter may result in a 30-day jail term. In New York City, another outdated law mandates that men may be fined $25 for gazing lasciviously at a female; a second conviction stipulates the offender wear a pair of blinders whenever he goes out for a walk.

4. Why wait for Happy Hour? Lots of people get their flirt on during their morning commute. A full 62 percent of drivers have flirted with someone in a different vehicle while on the go, and 31 percent of those flirtations, it turns out, resulted in a date.

5. Flirting need not occur face to face. According to Pew Research, 40 percent of people who look for love online say they can easily flirt with someone via email or IM.

6. In the Victorian era, fans were the ultimate playful prop that could communicate all sorts of messages. A fan placed near the heart meant, You have won my love. A half-opened fan pressed to the lips suggested, You may kiss me. Hiding the eyes behind an open fan meant, I love you, while opening and closing the fan several times warned, You are cruel. Given how much a fan could come in handy, it’s a shame they ever invented air conditioning.

7. These days, cell phones do the flirting. In one survey, half of all mobile phone users have texted suggestive messages to keep things interesting while away from their amour.

8. Watch out, you can overdo it. According to the Social Issues Research Centre, the most common mistake people make when flirting is maintaining too much eye contact.

9. Sometimes, flirty gestures aren’t what they seem. Research has shown that men tend to routinely mistake friendly behavior for flirting.

10. Flirting is universal. A woman living in New York City and one in rural Cambodia may not have much in common, but when it comes to attracting a little attention, they both employ the very same move: smiling, arching their eyebrows, then averting their gaze and giggling. Animals flirt, too: Birds, reptiles, and even fish have their own way of strutting their stuff. Moral of the story: If the simple sea bass can act cute to enhance a romantic agenda, you can, too—so give it a go!

Let me just find my plaited fan, and we can hit the road! I'm so joining that 62% of people who flirt with people in other cars. Ahaha.

- -

I was trying to see what I blogged on Valentine's Day the past four/five years. Nothing! I was so disappointed. But I found this ("3 Things Wrong With Me"):

Saturday, February 21, 2004 >> 11:05 a.m.

(. . .) 3. I believe in a thing called RANDOM love…
Yay, now I can work [what I’m going to say next] into an entry. (I’ve been thinking of ways to do so; no success.) I want a guy who… I can approach randomly (as in, I didn’t know him before, is a complete stranger to me), at the mall or something, start having a conversation, and have him say something intelligible back to me. And then have it progress from there. Jussssssssssttt like in a movie chick flick. Like… HOW GREAT WOULD THAT BE?! Hahaha… I don’t know, here I go with my whimsy and imagination again (referring to Flaw #1). I think it could happen… (I’m really tempted to incorporate God and religion into this.) Like… if it’s MEANT to be, then why couldn’t you meet your “significant other”… randomly? Rather than at camp, or at school (those are obvious references to people… really happy for you guys!), why not just randomly? And then this makes me think of [another topic that has been bothering me for a while] all of those random encounters that I’ve had in my life with complete STRANGERS. The old lady you chance to stand next to while looking through the [OVERPRICED] clothes at wet seal, who wants to know which shirt would make a better gift for her teenage granddaughter (hypothetical); the ten-year-old-looking boy you walk past on your way out of a truck stop, who lets you pet his golden retriever (non-hypothetical). The old lady could have died the next day, and the boy could grow up to win the Nobel prize in literature, and you would never know! NEVER! I just wonder about random encounters… if they amount to anything. And then I think about how utterly trapped we all are in our own worlds, and how everyone else is trapped in their own worlds, and how these worlds sometime overlap… sometimes… sigh.

When I went to New York (City) sometime last November (I think) for an orchestra field trip, I went into Toys R Us with three other friends, to ride on this HUGEEEE Ferris wheel that they have inside the building (the cars are plastic recreations/models of different toys). We got onto this Ferris wheel (approx. 20 minutes left until we had to meet back at X, the pre-determined meeting point for our bus’s departure), WHEEE, riding on the Ferris wheel (haha), and you know, it was stopping every so often to let people off. We got to about… 3:00 on a clock face (if the Ferris wheel starts at +270°, it went 90° counterclockwise), and it started stopping (wow, paradox) to let people off. So we’re sitting in this car (it was the Barbie car, wow, fun)… we take some pictures… and there’s really nothing to do, so I look to my right, towards the glass elevator, and there’s this guy in it. Dirty-blondish hair, he looks like he could be in high school… he’s wearing a short sleeved shirt (not a tee-shirt though… something more form-fitting) and he’s leaning against one of the walls of the elevator. And I don’t know, from +20 feet away I could sort of see him, he looked kinda cute, so I just watched him. AND THEN (gasp) he turned his head… AND LOOKED BACK AT ME! Ahhhh… allrightthen, so, being me, being guy-shy, my immediate reaction was to look away. And then I looked back again… and he was still looking at me. GAHBLUMAHGEIOMVEARDC. The Ferris wheel starts moving again… when it stops (5 seconds later), I look back at the elevator, and he’s looking back at me… I think he was going from the third floor of the store down to the first, and that's why he was still in the elevator after all that time. Sigh. When he got out of the elevator, he stood by it for a while, waiting for someone. The Ferris wheel started moving again, and when I looked back again, he was gone. I wonder about him, about all of the random strangers in my life… about that boy at the truck stop... I don’t understand why these people stick out in my mind. I guess I just think too much. Wonder too much. Like, I was wondering about that guy in the elevator… if he went to high school, why wasn’t he in school? We went to a New York on a Friday… but it was around 4:00 in the afternoon when we went into Toys R Us. Okay, so what was he doing in a toy store? What was his name? What were his hobbies, his ambitions? What is wrong with me????

- -

Haha. And I don't think I've changed at all.

recessive trait

2008-02-15T16:19:00.019-05:00

I was stuffing envelopes at work today (CMITES clientele, est. population 10,000), and I suddenly remembered that in elementary/middle school, I had a fixation with guys with blue eyes. I mean, I really, really, really . . . I think pretty much every boy I crushed on had blue eyes. I'm not sure which came first and which followed, my fawning delusions over their personalities or my love for their baby blues.

So then I started wondering how that even came about, because how could I, as a little girl, have gotten it into my head that blue eyes were such a desirable trait?

Maybe the movies I watched when I was little? The alpha man was the Disney prince with a soul, a build; a distaste for bad art, a rejection of vanity, a canine companion, an affinity for music, some knowledge of dance, a penchant for days on the town, a nice laugh, beautiful smile, and who, on top of that, had biceps to spare. (NOT Gaston.) Oh, that rowboat scene! Prince Eric:

Otherwise (from an even earlier time in my life), it was Daniel Truhitte, Rolf in The Sound of Music (1965). He may or may not have had blue eyes, I can't remember. I think he did. But for all his angst and bad political preferences, he was one gorgeous, smooth, talented-dancer, telegraph-deliverin' Austrian he-man. And his voice. I loved his voice. Speaking, singing . . . if it wasn't to wear that silk-organza dress Liesl wears in "Sixteen Going on Seventeen," I always wanted to be Liesl to dance and sing with Rolfe,

and at the end of the scene, after that kiss, presumably a first, squeal a delighted "Wheeeee!" into the thunder-and-lightening night.

Knock on wood!

2008-02-14T23:53:00.007-05:00

Sooooooooo excited for tomorrow night! We had our final run-through dress rehearsal tonight. And it was good. Even though everyone (many more than others - half the cast + the directors have had rehearsals for the Carnival show - a musical - all this week. is that not crazy?) is exhausted. It was just . . . everything gelling. The energy was good. Oh my gosh I really hope we nail it tomorrow night. I think we will.

To so many people in my life right now:

French phrase of the day for Thursday, Feb. 14: J'ai beaucoup de chance de l'avoir dans ma vie. "I am so lucky to have him/her in my life." I am so lucky to have you in my life! Happy Valentine's Day!

Why don't they sell this at Sephora? Oh, wait

2008-02-13T01:49:00.000-05:00

Exhibit A: http://www.blueq.com/shop/114-catId.117440633_114-productId.0.html

Exhibit B: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23129555/?GT1=10856

Les plages du coin sont magnifiques.

2008-02-13T00:15:00.005-05:00

French phrase of the day for Tuesday, Feb. 12: "The beaches there are beautiful."

WOW, could not be anymore different from today's weather! Snowy and slushy and wet and gross. The snow was pretty. But disgusting on the roads and sidewalks.

I would love to lie out on the beach right now. er, in the daytime. with tons of spf.

We had tech run-through for the show! Sound and lights, no lines. That starts tomorrow. Aah excited but a little nervous! I can't believe this week is finally here. I thought it'd never come.

Oh, and my phrase-of-the-day calendar says it's Lincoln's birthday! On Tuesday, not today. Hope you had a heads-up lucky day today (yesterday)!

Je vais visiter la Tour Eiffel.

2008-02-11T22:52:00.000-05:00

French phrase of the day for Monday, Feb. 11: "I am going to the Eiffel Tower."

The girl who plays my sister in Proof is studying at La Sorbonne this summer. So cool! I hope I'm going somewhere cool this summer. I hope I get to go to Paris one day.

Uh, what?

2008-02-10T12:43:00.001-05:00

This morning's homily at church: The presiding priest spoke about patience and resisting temptation. (The gospel verses were from Matthew 4, "And he fasted forty days and forty nights.") So he's talking, talking - living today, we've all but sold our souls to impatience, we could do with a little dose of that virtue, etc., and then out of nowhere, he goes "Like stem cell research."

Hold the phone.

You want to make an analogy comparing human impatience to the progress of stem cell research?

He continued: What is to be done? . . . Alternatives: Fat tissue, adult bone marrow. We all just want this miracle cure. We need to be patient. You know, I don't even remember him mentioning the word "embryo," because I was still reeling from the shock, "Did he really just say that? What in the world is he trying to say in the first place?" And then when he mentioned alternate stem cell sources, I got really confused, because he made it sound like they weren't working. "We have more than one method of obtaining human stem cells [, but we need to patient and wait for the original method, which involves terminating human life, to prove effective.]"

I'm all for the advancement of science. Medical research? Ooh, yeah, give me more. Please, find a cure; find a solution; regenerate tissue, organs; make a change so that people don't have to endure cancer anymore. Embryonic stem cell [research] . . . mm, is there another way? I'm not for taking human life. You can no longer argue that an embryo is not alive, developing, more than a semblance of a life capable of being ended (more than dwindling life-support veggies on hospital beds). Ugh. But the research needs to be done. It could change the world. (Hey, GW authorized federal funding to get it done.) It is changing the world! How happy I was, though, when I read an article reporting the use of adult bone marrow. So much progress is being made that way.

Back to Father Whoever. After stem cell research, he brought up sexual temptation, and then he went back to gospel, and then I knew he must have just been rambling. Impatience? Temptation? Consciously fighting the two? Right, the spirit of the Lenten season. We'll just assume stem cells were on his mind and he wanted to encorporate the issue, but didn't quite connect the dots. Because impatience in the name of progress is nothing like impatience to return to a bad habit. ("You wouldn't believe how hard it was to not eat a Big Mac on Ash Wednesday. Like, once something is forbidden, it's all you can think about!") And impatience to improve the world is quite a Christian notion, really. Let's not be Machiavellian about ends and means, but let it suffice to say that someone with a mind to advance the human condition, eradicate suffering, seek progress, and love others would not need another analogy to understand forty days of abstinence, whatever the sort.

Gimme gimme s'more

2008-02-08T08:30:00.001-05:00

The world is your snowball, see how it grows,
Thats how it goes, whenever it snows,
The world is your snowball just for a song,
Get out and roll it along!
It's a yum-yummy world made for sweethearts,
Take a walk with your favorite girl,
It's a sugar date, what if spring is late?
In winter, it's a marshmallow world!

Venn diagram

2008-02-07T18:33:00.000-05:00

My name is Sharon.

I was born in New York.

My favorite food is pizza.

I like to draw. I like to color. I like playing dress-up.

I have a mom, a dad, and a little sister.

My sister and I play a lot.

I am four years old, and when I grow up I want to be a ballerina.

* *

I was serious about that ballerina thing. I really thought I could do it. The most dance experience I'd had at the time was a children's ballet class at the YWCA back in Hatfield, Pennsylvania, and I had just joined a dance troupe at my Chinese school. (Our first dance involved pink plastic stools and round paper fans (not the plaited ones).) I had never seen a professionally staged ballet. I still haven't, actually. But how cool would it have been to have really pursued it? Barbara Milberg Fisher wrote a memoir about dancing with the NYCB and Balanchine - she didn't go into graphic detail about the physical pain involved in being a ballerina, something that would have deterred me the most, also the one thing I knew about the least. She talks a lot about traveling, which I would have considered kind of cool when I was in kindergarten; about the rehearsals, which I would have thought I could endure; about the costumes and makeup, which I would have loved; and about dancing and performing. Gosh, I would have loved it.

I wasn't a compulsive liar when I was four, but I was imaginative. I liked to believe I could invent things in my life that hadn't happened yet. I lied about things I thought I could get away with, especially to people who I figured wouldn't know better. So the first time we had to talk about ourselves and illustrate, I said that there were three other people in my family. Even though I was an only child. I told the room mother, whoever was helping me write my ten-sentence life story, that I had a sister. I don't remember what her name was. But she existed. And she was a baby sister, I think she'd just been born.

I'm trying to decide if the four-year old me would like the nineteen-year old me. If she'd even care. If we'd get along. Would she shun me for not being cool enough or pretty enough (Not a dancer? Next.), or would she be shy around me and actually want to get to know me? I know when I was younger, I idolized the high school girls I knew, mostly from Chinese School and also in the dance troup (one girl actually went to my elementary school, was a fifth grader, a safety, and she rode my bus). I thought their lives were infinitely more glamorous than mine (my understanding of glamor didn't involve too much), that they could do so many cool things (I couldn't name anything specific, but I just knew), and that I wanted to grow up as quickly as possible and be like them. Get to dance with umbrellas. And silk ribbons. And wear prettier costumes.

The kindergarten me - I feel like I know her. But we sort of lost touch. I feel like I think about her a lot, but I never know if she thinks about me. About the me-me, not the abstract, imaginary me she wanted to be. I wish I could ask her questions. I wish I could give her advice. I wish she would be happy, I mean, she was, but I wish she'd known to appreciate her present. I think four-year olds mostly do, appreciate their lives, that is, because they have no basis for comparison. But four-year old Sharon would imagine things to compare her life to . . . She was too good for me, I think.

* *

Dear four-year old me,

You didn't need to lie about having a sister. In general, lying is a very bad thing, and you should avoid it at all costs. But you didn't need to lie, because she was on her way. You wanted a sister and you got her (and she and you are quite good friends, actually).

I'm sorry to say that you aren't a ballerina. I'm not a ballerina. I'm a materials scientist/engineer. It's . . . kind of less glitzy than what you wanted. But you will make a difference, somehow. To be completely honest (since I just told you not to lie), I don't know if I will make a difference. I don't even know what I want to be, unlike you. But if you asked me for an answer, either in writing for a job application or in an interview, I could probably think of something to say. I went to a job fair today and told people that I was interested in working with energy, technology related to that, and transportation, finding a way to make that more efficient. It wouldn't be lying, exactly, because that is what I want to do, for now. I could get away with telling people that, especially to people who I figured wouldn't know better. I'm kind of a loser for not knowing what I want to do, aren't I? And something that not a lot of people have heard of, I agree (a lot of people had heard of "materials science and engineering" at this job fair, but they weren't really sure what it was and they didn't think they wanted to hire me).

I go to school in Pittsburgh. That's in Pennsylvania, where you used to live, but on the other side. Pennsylvania's a huge state, I don't know if you know that or not. I didn't know it myself until last year - it takes over six hours to drive from one end of it to the other. That's longer than it takes to drive from your house to where I am now.

I like your room. Green paint, rose wallpaper trim. Pink carpet. It looks exactly the same - I finally bought glow-in-the dark stickers (they're stars and planets, I know you like those) and put them on the ceiling about eleven or twelve years ago (not as long as it sounds), so it's like looking at the night sky, but only in one spot - except it's not your room anymore. You have a brother, too. Cool, right? That's his room now. Yeah, you're right, pink isn't a boy's color, but he's a pretty relaxed guy, he was good about it. Your toys are still in the house somewhere, some are in Stacy's room, most of them are in the family room, and some are in my room, on the bed and on a shelf. Brownie is here with me at school. People have recently told me she looks like a chipmunk, but you and I know that she is just a teddy bear.

I'd like to give you advice, I don't know whether or not you want to hear what I have to say. The biggest things: Be patient; don't worry. Dad probably tells you this all the time (if he hasn't started yet, he will say it to you a lot, eventually, because you're kind of impatient, and worrying is something you tend to do). Be patient because you'll be in fifth grade before you know it; be patient because middle school and high school will go by so quickly, and then you'll be in college, which is even cooler than playing dress-up or Princesses. Be patient because you will get to make lots of friends and see lots of movies and go to many places, but right now, you don't need any of those things; what you have is enough, and what you have is great. Your best friends will mostly still be your best friends in fifteen years. You won't be a ballerina, but you will still like to dance, and to perform, and The Sound of Music will still be one of your favorite movies. (And you can still pretend to be Liesl, if you want. You will still like to sing, and often, so keep singing.)

Don't worry. Just remember that God is always watching out for you from Heaven and your family and friends are looking out for you on Earth. Don't worry about not being good enough. You'll never be the best - well, maybe that's not true - you won't feel like you're the best, a lot of the time, but you'll always be more than good enough. You will be well liked and funny and pretty and kind and think interesting things and have interesting experiences, and you will smile and laugh often, cry sometimes, but mostly be very happy. So don't worry. You will do great in school and learn, and read great books, and it may not happen how you planned it, but I really think it will all work out in the end.

Work hard. Keep practicing the violin, don't give it up. Study hard. Try to plan in advance. Make sure you tell Mom and Dad about things before right before they happen, like if you want to go to the movies with your friends or something (in a few years). Be focused. Do one thing at a time, and focus on just that one thing while you're doing it. Be efficient (that means . . . try to save time), but don't over-multi-task (do too many things at once) in order to be efficient. Don't look down at the radio to change the station while you're driving.

I don't exactly know what I want to be when I grow up, or what I want when I grow up. Things I know I want, for sure:

I want a well decorated house. Or apartment, I could do with someplace small. I love IKEA and Laura Ashley, those are home furnishing companies.

I want a family. I'd like to have kids, I'd maybe like to get married . . . I feel like this is still far off and hard to imagine, but I think I'd like this. Or I'd like to visit my family a lot.

I want to be happy.

I think . . . we're probably a lot alike, wouldn't you say?

Oh, another thing. Don't procrastinate. Kick that habit as soon as possible. I'm writing you this letter instead of reading a book for a history class. That's bad. Don't do that.

And you don't have a boyfriend yet. I don't have a boyfriend yet. There will be a lot of boys who you like and a few boys who will like you. Try not to let those boys (who like you) get away. They might seem kind of weird or . . . annoying or creepy at first, but they mean well. They're good guys. They like you for the right reasons.

I'll let you know as I figure that one out.

You like fortune cookies, right? That was the one I got with my dinner a couple nights ago. I just opened it tonight.

I thought it was funny.

Love,

Sharon

Remember, you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

2008-02-06T13:24:00.000-05:00

Chocolate Scrabble

2008-02-06T01:37:00.000-05:00

Goodness.

que sera, sera

2008-02-06T00:35:00.000-05:00

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Ugh what am I going to do with my life. Even though I told a friend today that it's not a crime to not be stressed, I still don't feel like I'm living adequately unless I'm in crisis mode. In complete contradiction with my love for peace of mind and clarity. Well, I've gone through both of those and back again in about . . . three hours.

Chloe spoke at IVCF tonight about "God's Heart for the City," an anecdotal, "In the Cit-ay," touching, funny, informative and all-around sobering account of her experiences with urban outreach/restoration (and approach to the Gospel). I was floored. I mean, I knew the world was poor . . . Actually, no, that's not true. I knew there were poor in the world. But no, I did not know that 40% of the people in the world live on 2 USD a day. Chloe did a nice price analysis for us of what $4/day would afford in Mexico (she just got back from a weekend trip), and she was left with 70c for "water, sanitation, rent, taxes, transportation, health care, entertainment, vacation, toiletries, tithing, saving, college education, school uniforms, etc." Oh, and before she became the IVCF director for the Pittsburgh-Metro area, she was on her way to becoming a concert pianist. Yeah. She was studying at Julliard. She gave it up for a position on IVCF staff.

So what am I doing, exactly . . . ? We're talking about the Restoration in French history: We discuss the plight of the middle class, the plight of the artisanal factions, the crisis of the socially mobile (actually immobile) "in-migrants" from rural France, the post-Revolutionary political upheaval, anti-Revolutionary sentiment, anti-monarchical sentiment. Life was pretty bad for the working class before the Revolution - afterwards, too - so are 19th century suicide statistics in the Paris region an accurate representation of the social demography for that time, that place? They've been categorized by age, sex, occupation, time of day, time of year, and method. No, they aren't accurate for that purpose because there are other factors to consider.

And life was bad in the past and it's bad in the present, and I feel like I should be able to process this on a much deeper level, but all I feel is a hollow pretense of a headache, sort of like when I have to fake a hangover for a scene in "Proof."

I feel like I really owe the world something. I feel like I should do something. But what? Gosh, sometimes I feel like I could be that person who makes a huge difference all on her own. I want it so much, sometimes, that I actually believe I could be her. I thought that for a second tonight.

I owe the world everything and myself nothing. But not just the world, I owe certain people certain things . . . and I'd say I owe the people I know personally a lot more than the impoverished I have never met. So I will spend Spring Break with my family and friends, even though I'm telling everyone in IVCF to go to the Pittsburgh Urban Plunge, even though I'm distraught over not going myself, even though I feel like, maybe, that's where I should be? What if? Chloe said (the Bible says, Mother Theresa said) we need the poor, not the other way around. And?

And when I wake up in the morning, I don't want to stop feeling like this, I don't want to forget what I'm feeling. But being in a perpetual state of turmoil is definitely unhealthy. And inevitably I get happy and sidetracked and forget that over two billion people live daily on the tip I gave to the guy who delivered my Chinese food last night.

Pray, pray, pray . . . And listen to "Faith," by George Michael (P.S. ELI STONE on ABC, watch the pilot!).

Possible things to give up for Lent: Hitting the sleep button on my alarm clock (not getting up as soon as I hear my alarm), feeling sorry for myself, letting my laundry sit in the basket after I take it out of the dryer,

I gave up AIM one year, I think it was either 7th, 8th or 10th grade. Last year, about halfway through Lent, I decided I'd give up crushing on boys.

Hm well I haven't decided yet for this year. Que sera, sera. I'll stay away from candy for a while in case I can't think of anything else . . .

When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead?
Will we have rainbows, day after day?
Here's what my sweetheart said.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

French phrases of the day for Monday, Feb. 4, and Tuesday, Feb. 5:
J'ai dormi à poings fermés. "I slept like a baby." True for Monday night, not for last night or tonight.
Je me suis reveillée a l'aube ce matin. "I woke up very early this morning." Not true for Tuesday morning; will be true for Wednesday morning.

Ooh you know what else I could give up? Putting off dropping my self-paced Italian class. I actually did some of the homework exercises last night while I was waiting for my delivery dinner. Preliminary chapter and chapter 1, out of chapters 0-4 (test next week). Um . . . or maybe just commit to pacing myself better. In everything. Gosh.

Je suis heureuse d'être à nouvelle en ville.

2008-02-03T23:57:00.000-05:00

French phrase of the day for Friday, Feb. 1: "I am glad to have returned to the city."

It really occurred to me for the first time on Wednesday that I go to Carnegie Mellon. I mean, like, a weighty, aware-of-my-surroundings, aware-of-my-identity, aware-of-being-labeled-by-the-school realization. The "I'm that girl in that publicity brochure"-type of feeling. I really go to this school. I am Carrie A. Card on the CMU student IDs, I'm just another student here. For a split second, I time-warped to five, eight years from now, and imagined myself saying, Yes, I went to Carnegie Mellon. It was so odd and a little bit overwhelming.

But despite the rough start, this semester is going well, and I am most definitely glad to be back in Pittsburgh.