my great grandmother died on christmas eve, the day before christ was born. kind of hard. she was a wonderful lady, though, and she lived a long life, and finally made it home to God after 97 years, the last 20 of which she spent without a husband.

and you know? I know I only see her, maybe, twice or three times a year... but I miss her.

---

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice
You've made it now
Falling slowly sing your melody
I'll sing along
-Falling Slowly, The Swell Season

My Favourite Christmas Lyric of 2007.

"O hush the noise ye men of strife
And hear the angels sing."

From It Came Upon The Midnight Clear, lyrics by Edmund Sears, 1849.

head underwater.

Walk out on the water
You have no control
Scared of every failure
Sacrifice your soul, please let that go
---

I'm trying, God.
Okay?

Things are different here now. My friends are different. Or, more likely, I'm different. I don't feel different, but I get in a big group of them and I realize that a lot of what they're into, I'm not. Or no longer am.

Maybe I should just play along. But why should I have to? And then, I listen to some of the things that they say, and just the interactions that take place, and I realize that this really isn't who I want to be. That I'm just not completely on the same plane any more. I am with Jen and John, definately. And probably Peter. But James, and Mackenzie, and Brian, and Kaitlin... I just don't feel like we're that connected. That it's fairly forced. And that I don't want to be out with all of them until all hours. because it just isn't fun.

And I'm sorry if I'm making this up, but I felt uncomfortable tonight at Brian's house. Like, some of his mother's comments just made me feel uneasy. Embarrassed. Not uneasy like last night during Superbad. But rather, a "I don't belong here and I don't like it" feeling.

People change. I've changed. I guess I just didn't realize how much. It's not that I dislike who I am. If anything, I think I like who I am more. It's just a matter of finding the balance. Listening to myself talk, for example. Voice quality. Am I being mean, just in how I sound? Those sorts of things.

I kind of want it to be Christmas, so I can take a break from my friends. I want to lose ten pounds and I want to go back to school.

I love my family, but I... I dunno. It's weird here.

if you had 24 hours left to live, what would you do?

I said that I'd spend time with my family, eat a really good meal, go to church and sing, and then hop a plane and fly to peru and watch the sunrise over pablo neruda's grave (I think he's buried on a hill; I'd sit there) and die holding someone's hand with God' name on my lips, like Gandhi did.

Josh said he'd do a bunch of stuff, as well, but that he'd die watching the sunset and looking into someone's eyes. Because it's eye contact that really captures the humanity of it.

How many people can say they've looked into someone's eyes as they die? Very few, I'd expect. Most people close theirs; too much work to keep them open, I guess. But. Still. I know that everyone dies alone, and that there's very little humanity left in death, the actual act of leaving this world and entering the next, but there's such... civility, or humanity, I guess, in eye contact. Very few species can manage it without being threatening. For most, the sole act of maintaining a visual bridge between oneself and someone else is an act of extreme aggression and threatening. We aren't like that.

It's really beautiful, when you think about it. Physical contact is a plus to most mammals; we're conditioned to seek and maintain warmth, and it's often through direct contact with another that we achieve it. But eye contact? With no physical benefit? It's purely a recognition that we're all in this together.

And what a way to go.

oh yeah, your skin and bones // turn into something beautiful

-smiles-

I'm so happy right now. Yeah, I'm crazy busy right now and it's going to be an adventure this week... but I'm just happy. I feel like I'm hearing God right now really well, and that I'm being focused and guided and all of that jazz.

And I really like Josh. -grins-

I've never dated anyone Christian before. It's a new concept for me, but one that I really like a lot so far. Granted, we're not dating. But I know that he likes me; he basically told me. And, the thing is... I really like him. It's weird, because I don't know him ridiculously well. Nevertheless, I... I just like him. He's really cute, and funny, and sweet, and just... yeah. Cute.

I don't really date nice guys. It'd be a really welcome change.

When he told me he'd dated his last girlfriend for THREE AND A HALF YEARS I died a little bit. Because that's, like, legitimately longer than my longest run of 4 months. And that was even too long.

So, yeah. but the thing is... maybe it's easier to date for longer when you agree with the person on a lot of fundamental levels.

God? Yeah. What should I do?

padre nuestro

Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu nombre,
venga tu reyno,
hagase tu voluntad,
asì en la tierra como en el cielo.
Danos hoy nuestro pan cotidiano,
Y perdónanos nuestras deudas,
asì como nosotros perdonamos á nuestros deudores.
Y no nos metas en tentación,
mas líbranos de mal.

Amén.

sometimes all I want
is someone to listen to jazz music with me
like my grandfather does, closing his eyes
and fingering the notes on his deep, blue-toned tenor
saxophone, which he's only been able to play well since he turned 65.

I don't play like he does. Not with the experiences he puts behind it,
playing the death of his son and the
loss of his wife's breasts to cancer.

He doesn't play much jazz about the graduation of my father from grad school
or the birth of my cousins.

It's about feeling the rhythm of being 73
and embracing it with a smile
and a song.

why can't we do that at 20?

negative space

bukowski says what we know is in what we don't know.
I know organic chemistry, the feel of rain on my skin, the smile I wear at a party, the way
I hold my pillow at night,
imagining the contours of the muscles
it doesn't have.

I know how to run a seven minute mile and the feeling in my lungs (pantpantpant) after I stop, the
smell of my skin, the gleeful look in my eyes
a little girl proving to her father that she can do it just as well as he does.

I know how to see through jungle rains, how to just
give in and let it take you over, covering you
in wet.

I know how to smile and cry together, and I know the hanukkah prayers (Baruch a'tah adonai, eloheinu), even as a
shiksha.

I don't know how to do a shot of everclear without coughing.
I don't know russian, how to fix my roommate's boy problems, or how to close my eyes and jump.
I don't know how to drive a stick on the highway.

(I can scale a building, but I can't be fearless.)
(If bukowski's right, we're all dead).

dead week.

God is good. I am His. And He is getting me through.

nous sommes votres.

We sing it in the darkest place
Cause love is in Your powerful name
Shine the light of beauty and grace
We’re living in the name that can save

We sing to You the song of the redeemed
You’ve beautified our hearts and made us clean
You’ve rescued us from death and set us free
We sing to You the song of the redeemed

We adore You and before You,
forgiven and redeemed
All races from all places,
Around the cross we sing

We are Yours
We are Yours
We are Yours.

--charlie hall, song of the redeemed

quotes from The Phantom Tollbooth

"I'm not very good at problems," admitted Milo.
"What a shame," sighed the Dodecahedron. "They are so very useful. Why, did you know that if a beaver two feet long with a tail a foot and a half long can build a dam twelve feet high and six feet wide in two days, all you would need to build the Boulder Dam is a beaver sixty-eight feet long with a fifty-one foot tail?"
"Where would you find a beaver that big?" grumbled the Humbug as his pencil snapped.
"I'm sure I don't know," he replied, "but if you did, you'd certainly know what to do with him."
(175).

"Yes, indeed," they repeated together, "but if we'd told you, you might not have gone--and, as you've discovered, so many things are possible just as long as you don't know they're impossible."
(247).

"But that can never be," said Milo, jumping to his feet.
"Don't be so sure," said the child patiently, "for one of the nicest things about mathematics, or anything else you might care to learn, is that many of the things which can never be, often are. You see," he went on, "it's very much like your trying to reach infinity. You know it's there, but you just don't know where--but just because you can never reach it doesn't mean that it's not worth looking for."
(197).

now that I have held you in my own arms, I cannot let go 'til you are...

look at the stars look how they shine for you
and all the things that you do

This is me before I come undone.
This is me before I fall apart.
I've been tired for days and days.
I've been tired for days and days.

Essential yet appealed,
Carry all your thoughts
Across an open field,
When flowers gaze at you,
They're not the only ones
Who cry when they see you

A boy with a coin he crammed in his jeans
Then making a wish he tossed in the sea
Walked to a town that all of us burn
When God left the ground to circle the world

Oh yeah your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
you know for you I'd bleed myself dry
For you I'd bleed myself dry

one of my favourite things about myself is that my friends describe me as, "too nice." As in, "yeah, she's not like that. you're much more likely to get something like that out of me. she's just very nice and very sweet."

perfect.

that's how I want to be. even if it causes trouble.

You've come a long way from whisky and cocaine.

My Uncle Joe has cancer. He has leukemia.

It's 85% curable, and I guess they caught it pretty early.

Life isn't fair.

dear jack,

dear jack,

you don't deserve me, and that frustrates me. especially since you're a generally nice guy. a nice guy with a lot of flaws but who I want to date. even though it's not for the best. because you'd probably pressure me to do stuff, and you swear a lot, and you're really obcessed with soccer and not much else and...

...these are all really superficial reasons. well, not the first one.

I need to stop building people up. it's inherent, I try not to, but I do anyway. because I really do want to believe that you might walk up the library stairs right now, apologize for not wanting to come pick me up, and lift me out of this chair, put your hands on my cheeks and tell me that you don't know what you were thinking, because even if it's only for a while, you don't want to share me. and then kissing me, even in front of this crazy asian kid sitting twenty feet away from me.

but that won't happen. and even imagining it and writing it out makes me feel pathetic. because you aren't coming here. you're probably already asleep.

I need to stop thinking about you.

and I feel like I don't, that much. but I let you a little bit too far into my heart. I mean, you barely made it in, but you broke the surface a little. and I don't know why that is. it's very unlike me. but it's the truth.

I'm an idiot.

it makes me sad that I still care.

and that I'm checking my phone to figure out why you hasn't texted me back in nearly 40 minutes. guess you gave up on the conversation.

bah.

rylee says you need to "get your shit together," and that you do want to date me, you just don't have "your shit figured out." maybe she's right. or maybe she's doing what Cher does in Clueless to that other girl that Britany Murphy plays. The sad, pathetic girl that goes, "if I'm too good for him, then way ain't I WITH him?". That's me.

You've never seen this side of me. That's for the best. I can hang on to that.

But I still hope a little bit that you'll come walking up the library stairs.

love em

genesis 31:49

"he's weeping because he knows she's the one. I love that."

marissa's right. como hermoso.

hands are distant lullabies.

I am sick. I might have strep, I don't really know. I'll find out at the doctor's tomorrow or tuesday.

And all I want to do right now is cuddle with someone up in my bed and watch the office, which I'm streaming offline, and have them play with my hair and let me drift off.

Uuuuugh. I'm really glad I didn't call Jack. I'm not quite sick enough. But I'm borderline.

But we're still friends. And he took me out to lunch today with his parents. So maybe the message wasn't quite clear enough?

here is our God who's come to bring us back to Him

"just to know that you are near is enough
God of heaven, come down"

pffffffffffft. That's what I have to say.

ended whatever it was with jack tonight. riikka, who I think is going to be my new accountability partner, thinks it's right, too, but it's just so hard. but I feel like I was called to do it, so it should be all right, you know? I know, anyway.

And we talked about religion tonight. And how I don't think that God isn't real if he doesn't think so. That his not believing in my God doesn't mean my God is any less universal. And I love that about God, so it was neat to hear myself saying it outloud. Even if he didn't get it.

At least he knows that my faith is important to me. And that I'm not okay with being "friends with benefits," aka "that girl that I can call and make out with." That I'm either your girlfriend, or nothing, and that being your girlfriend means rules. Which you don't like. Because you don't do rules. But that's all right, you know? Because I do rules. And I set the pace.

And I want to find a guy that makes me not have to worry about all of this.

Please, God. Please send someone my way who's adventurous and funny and sweet and kind and respectable and spontaneous and cute and who, if I try to make a move, will hold my wrists, look me in the eye, and tell me that that's not what I'm supposed to do. And to not get ahead of myself. At least every once in a while.

I'm kind of lonely. And it's been an hour.

Ugh. Bedtime.

school is crazy. like, really crazy-busy and hard. but the thing is, I really like it.

I need help realizing that God will get me through, even if I fail the exam. I need to be as grateful for his love and understanding and infinite grace when I don't have faith in myself just as much as when I do.

I did well on a bio quiz yesterday, and I thank God for that. If I hadn't done well, though, I'd still be thankful for that, too.

lead me, God. Please.

I cried watching this. It's beautiful.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=cyheJ480LYA

Talk about putting my pain in the offering, Lord.

So I'm a little bit falling for this boy. One of those boys that I said I wouldn't date any more. Not Christian, basically.

But he's sweet. And respectful. And stuff like that. Which is all good. And... I mean, I'm not going to marry the kid.

And he plays soccer. For Emory, that is--meaning he's actually really good. And he likes me, which is really kind of big.

I feel like I'll have a lot more intelligible things to say about this post nap.

criteria.

So, Saturday night, my friend Adil and I laid on the roof of the Carlos Museum for four hours (3-7am) discussing soulmates. Does everyone have a soul mate? I believe so. I want to very badly, anyway. And we spent most of the time talking about what our individual soulmates would look/act/be like--preferences or qualities, some of them seemingly unimportant, that form the perfect person for each of us.

Things like the following.

My soulmate would be disarming. He would know me nearly completely, but not perfectly. Surprises are the spice of life.
My soulmate would be willing to be embarrassed a little to make me happy. Even if he can't dance, he would to shake things up a bit.
My soulmate would be quite at home on the furniture.
My soulmate wouldn't bother with throw pillows or other silly norms dictated by society.
When entering a room, my soulmate would head for the windows.
My soulmate's hugs would last longer than 3 seconds.
My soulmate would make me never again look at another guy.
My soulmate would think that I hung the moon.
My soulmate would be my best friend.
My soulmate would make everyone else seem black and white to his technicolour.
My soulmate would see God as more real than anyone or anything else he's ever encountered.
My soulmate would appreciate shared silences.
My soulmate would make me smile constantly, sometimes just by being there.
My soulmate would be spontaneous and somewhat unpredictable.
My soulmate would kiss me in the rain.
My soulmate wouldn't be afraid to just go.

my soulmate will feel at home on the furniture.

A thousand times I've failed
Still Your mercy remains And should I stumble again
I'm caught in Your grace
Everlasting
Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending
Your glory goes beyond all fame

Your will above all else
My purpose remains
The art of losing myself
In bringing You praise
Everlasting
Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending
Your glory goes beyond all fame

In my heart and my soul
Lord I give You control
Consume me from the inside out
Lord let justice and praise
Become my embrace
To love you from the inside out

Everlasting
Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending
Your glory goes beyond all fame
And the cry of my heart
Is to bring You praise
From the inside out
Lord my soul cries out

"In buying a horse and in taking a wife, shut your eyes and commend yourself to God."
-Italian Proverb

"Do not let too strong a light come into your bedroom. There are in a beauty a great many things which are enhanced by only being seen in a half light."
-Ovid

from Samaritan to sin, and it's waiting on the end.

Prayer tonight was awesome. Wow. Talk about feeling God move and put people and things on my heart -- obviously this is what people mean when they say, in particular, "God told me I needed to pray for him/it/that." I've always kind of wondered.

Things are going really well right now. I'm getting involved--I'm now in charge of Wonderful Wednesdays for Not For Sale week... how exciting. Ahh. I love people. (And I love how Arunan is calling me, him, Liza, and David the "emory vegetarian christians." Yay, jesus and veggies together.)

No, I didn't do as awesomely on the bio test as I'd have wanted to, but I will this week. And this weekend, go to bog down--there's an orgo test in nearly a week, and I'm going to ace it, with God's help. I know I can do it. I can do all things through He who strengthens me. That's always comforted me, phrase-wise.

Just, Lord, please lead me next where you want me to be. I'm loving it so far.

and you enter suddenly, and I am lost again.

Apparently black nail polish is in. Who knew? I definately thought that it was mostly used for halloween costumes of witches.

Anyway.

I read an awesome blog on this kid's facebook today about whether God was real, and about how, although he's totally a believer, sometimes when he's really busy he falls into the trap of "non-relational' Christianity, where you pray and then God does his thing and you read a couple of lines of Scripture each night and say grace over meals and that's it. Nada mas.

That's not enough for me. I know God is real, and as I was reading this guy's account of how he knew that God was real, and he was really right. He mentioned how he made it through the week. It's not because we're smart, or we're good time-managers. It's because God, in His infinite wisdom, saw fit for us to do so. Because God needed us to be here this week. And I'm hopeful about next week, but then again, I very well might not live to see that. So I'd better try as hard as I can to live today to the best it can be. Take chances, make mistakes, sing out loud, don't straighten my hair, wear something outlandish that I love.

God is in the reassurance that I've studied enough--I can take this exam and do well. God is in the good feeling I get when I talk to the woman who swipes my card at the DUC and ask her about her day, or in the smiles of the happy, slightly-drunk kids as they get back safely from frat row for the night. God's even in the hard stuff--the movie about human trafficking, the awkward feeling when you go to a meeting of a club for the first time and don't know anyone, trying to let someone down gently when you tell them you're not interested in them.

This boy ended his blog with a line that I loved. "Faith means having to see God as more real that anything or anyone I have ever encountered."

That's my life, right there in a nutshell.

well maybe, this life is like your bed

I've met a ton of awesome people here. It's kind of exciting... And I'm back on that path of being mistaken for a junior or a senior, which is exciting and reassuring. I typically don't like "freshman orientation"-type activities because they make me feel young. Young and naieve and just like everyone else, which, to be honest, I am. I do not, however, act like many of the kids in my year, which must seperate me on some level I don't see and, so, causes people to ask that smile-inducing question of, "what year are you? junior?" Always a winner.

I really like this Christian coffeehouse that I found here. It's called Bread, and it's really awesome--free coffee and usually bread or cookies and sometimes a full meal, along with bible studies, devotional lunches, and wicked sweet bands that come and play every wednesday night. Kind of a fiesta.

And it's exciting to get involved in clubs, too. Not that it doesn't make me want to start one of my own (Oxfam, maybe?), but it's neat to meet a ton of people interested in neuroscience, global health, amnesty international, advocating against human trafficking, or, most importantly, Jesus. I really like ECF, which is this christian fellowship group here, and I'm excited about small groups starting and meeting more really nifty people through that.

And I met this boy named Ian. And I really like him, which is kind of good, and kind of frustrating. Frustrating because I'd really like to go on a date with him, but he's got to make the first move, and I hate waiting. But, whatever. If it's meant to happen, it will. And in the mean time, it's just exciting to be here.

And to leave with a quote from Rosseau:
"On a fait l'Amour aveugle car il n'y a pas de meilleurs yeux que nous." // We made love blind because there are no better eyes than us.

love you all.

Midtown. and ECF. and Hillsong.

Wow. Tonight was awesome. I was frantic today from studying, and it's bothered me how I haven't made any really new, awesome christian friends. And then I went to ECF tonight, and Midtown, and both were awesome. What a neat church, God. And thanks for telling them to sing the song that they did. If anything, it hit home with one person there.

Now for that spanish thing.

Also. Please, give me the words to say tonight, or wednesday, or whenever. You know what I mean.

The greatest love that anyone could ever know,
That overcame the cross and grave to find my soul,
Until I see you face to face,
And grace amazing takes me home,
I'll trust in you

an update. kind of.

I need to write a real update. I know. But I can't right now. My contacts aren't in, and I can barely see. I can't even see these letters.

But here's the thing. I need help, again, God. I feel like Anne Lamott was right when she said that the twp best prayers she knows are "help me help me help me" and "thank you thank you thank you." So this is one of the first kind, although, thank you for everything. The second kind is obviously more important.

So, back to the first kind. Let me know what you're thinking? Probably not this boy, that's okay. I know that you'll let me know if he's the one or not. And it's fine if he's not. But it'd be nice to be lead toward someone who is. Or could be, with a little bit of effort on my part and a lot on yours.

And thank you. Thank you for everything, because you understand everything that I want and desire and need. And you'll provide all of the last bit, and as much of the first two as is good for me. Which is best. So thanks.

love emily

-----
"Frail" by Jars of Clay
Convinced of my deception
I've always been a fool
I fear this love reaction
Just like you said I would

A rose could never lie
About the love it brings
And I could never promise
To be any of those things

If I was not so weak
If I was not so cold
If I was not so scared of being broken
Growing old
I would be...
I would be...
I would be...

Blessed are the shallow
Depth theyll never find
Seemed to be some comfort
In rooms I try to hide

Exposed beyond the shadows
You take the cup from me
Your dirt removes my blindness
Your pain becomes my peace

If I was not so weak
If I was not so cold
If I was not so scared of being broken
Growing old
I would be...
I would be...
I would be...

Two friends in one summer, God? I know that you had a plan for David, and that you were involved every step of the way, but I can't believe that you planned for this to happen to Nick. I can't believe that this is a punishment, or that it was "his time to go." That doesn't make sense. It's got to be a weird twist of circumstance, huh, Lord?

I know he's with you now, God. And I know you COULD have saved him, if things had worked out that way and you had wanted to. And that's enough, I think.

I feel like Shak, Rak, and Benny, only without the song and with more pain.

I talked to a boy! THE boy of the moment!

Hey, it might be a conversation, but at least it's a CONVERSATION.

el es muy lindo, verdad?

I got my Spanish placement, and praise the Lord, it's good--I'm in Spanish 212: Advanced Grammar and Comp. Phew.

On another note, this article is incredible, albeit disturbing. Read it.

http://www.glamour.com/news/articles/2007/08/reallifedrama

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for tonight. You are incredible. I needed refocusing, you knew it, and now I am new again.

I am so free. And I'm going to miss my church a lot.

Please help me find a new place where I can get the same sort of spiritual renewal each week. I love being around people whose desire is to get closer to you.

Thank you for being my church, above all.

I love you. And I love who you've made me to be.

love emily

So, Lolla was amazing. The concert, anyway. The rest of it was definately really fun, but it's been making me think about school. I really like my roommate, Rylee, (although I think Laurie and I would be better roommates...) but the amount of drinking that a lot of the kids were doing just made me pause to consider this coming year.

I don't drink. I'm fine with that, and I'm totally cool with hanging out with people who do... I thought. I guess, though, I never really thought about Emory's policies. If I'm caught with kids who are drinking, and I'm not, I could still lose my scholarship and end up back in erie, ready and rearing to go to Penn State Behrend. I don't want that. More than anything else, I don't want that.

So what does that mean? I don't really know. I'm not going to be that girl who says she's fine with drinking, but as soon as someone pulls out the vodka, she's bookin' out of there. At the same time, however, I will not lose my scholarship. I can't.

So, I need some guidance on that, Lord. But I can wait. I know you have bigger fish to fry at the moment.

I'm a bit nervous about school. Mostly, I'm just excited. I know everything will work out, Lord, and I'm just so blessed to be in this position. I mean, I'm going to college, and it's not Penn State, and I can afford to go.

This, in itself, is amazing.

Lead me where I need to be, God. I'm yours, and I'm excited.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

I am so excited about Lollapalooza. It's a three-day musical festival in Chicago, replete with amazing bands, awesome people, and endless possibility. I've flown alone before, so that's nothing major-league, but arriving somewhere where there's no one waiting for me? Where I get to rely on myself, alone, to find an L train, get to a hotel, and spend four days in Chicago listening ot amazing music and having a ridiculously good time.

This is what it's like to be a grown up, and now, I finally feel like one. This isn't a day trip with friends; it's a vacation on my own, where I'm left up to my own devices, and full of infinite possibility.

I'm also getting more and more excited about school. August 29th, I start the first day of the next four years. What an awesome feeling. Getting to rely totally on myself, 803 miles from home. Scary, but exciting.

I'm getting stuff in the mail each day that I've ordered for this year. Allergy casings for my mattress, a bedspread, socks. It makes it even more exciting.

Also, I love cooking. I'm getting more and more into it, and I don't even mind spending money buying mangoes and rice noodles and mint leaves for moroccan tangime with spring vegetables. It's exciting and fufilling, spending an hour working over a stove to make something that no one other than me will get within two feet of.

There's Chocolate Mexican Rice Pudding in my fridge, if you're interested. And it's vegan. -grins- Who'd've thought?

there's this boy at church. And I get my hopes up, I'm not sure why. sometimes I convince myself that stuff could work out, and it probably never could, and it's probably not in God's plan, but he's a first year med student at LECOM and he's nice and he's Christian and it's not really THAT out of the realm of possibility, is it?

I feel like all I ever do is blog about boys. But, the thing is, it's one of the biggest areas in my life in which I need help.

Also. Peter told me off, basically, the other day for telling James to "tell Leigh I said hello." Leigh is mad at me, background story. It's a long one, but I can't waste energy being mad at her. She'll either get over it or not. But Peter said that it's just "egging her on" and that it makes me "seem fake" and lots of stuff like that.

Sometimes, you know, I'm really just being nice. In fact, 98% of the time, I'm just being nice. I'm a nice person. I really can't help that; I have a sweet disposition and I never take a moment to think that me being nice would bother someone, or be questioned in any way.

That's what's funny. I read what Katie J said about Marissa, about her being the most honest person she knows, and that's really true. But I'm definately not the most honest person I know. I try to be honest whenever possible, but I sugar coat it sometimes if I'm worried about hurting someone's feelings.

And, here's the thing. When I seem concerned about your life, I really am. When I say I'll pray for you, I really do. When I seem happy, I am, and when I seem upset, I am that too. Sometimes I lie about the latter, but I don't pretend to be happy when I'm not. I don't like feeling fake.

So, I guess, I don't lie. I really, really hate to do that. I think sometimes I try to find too diplomatic a way of saying the truth. Not about my opinions, like how the Tamils or Tibet are being oppressed or what we should do about Zimbabwe. No, it's more stuff like, "I'm dating a 29 year old guy with a kid... do you think that's okay?" No, not really is my first instinct, but I usuAlly phrase it like, "well, if he's gone to school and he's responsible and he's trying to make a better life for himself and his child, sure. Just make sure you know what you're getting yourself into."

And, the thing is? After thinking about it, I really do agree with what I said, not what I thought.

Mmm. I want more peaches.

I just finished the 7th Harry Potter book.

And the thing is, without revealing the ending, I'm just so sad they're over. And I kind of want to curl up into a ball, not because it was particularly sad or happy, but because it's over, and this is it.

And it's kind of a sad, lonely feeling.

snape, snape, severus snape... DUMBLEDORE!

Umm. So. Barnes and Noble guy showed up at work on wednesday to make sure he'd given me the right phone number.

Hmm. Granted, I hadn't given him mine, so he couldn't call me, so he did the only thing he knew to do, I guess. He came to KimKopy, where I had told him I worked.

Hmm.

sometimes you're futher than the moon, sometimes you're closer than my skin.

Jessica has a thing for this boy. he plays in a band, he's really cute, and he doesn't know her. for the longest time, she had seen him play at the winter retreat with my church, found him on myspace, and that was it. Now we've seen his band play a few times, and they're myspace friends, and that's still it.

she was kind of wistfully complaining last night that her stomach flies up into her mouth whenever she sees him, but he'll never know. honestly, I kind of understand.

I have a habit of developing little crushes on boys. Boys that are either way too old (21+), way too cute, or way too committed to something for me. Most of the time, they don't even know I exist, at varying degrees. And I'm fine with that; I get over it in a week or so and nobody's the wiser.

But don't you ever wonder? Like, why do I stumble across some really, really neat sounding kid on myspace who's from erie and think I'd really like him a lot. Why? It's not like he's ever going to meet me. Or the guy at church who goes to LECOM. HELLO, I'm not even in college yet! Why would he like me?

Where are all the good Christian boys, God? Are they at Emory? Even just one? Because I'm putting my stock in that. I'm sick of dating people that I don't mesh with and I have to compromise myself for. I will not compromise on some things, Lord.

Can you send someone my way, maybe, who is perfect for me? That'd be nice. Or even just good for me. I'm not ready to meet my soul mate just yet.

EDIT: The cute guy at barnes and noble that I'm basically humanly incapable of talking to gave me his phone number. Without prompting, or anything. AHH. He thought I was a grad student, and then asked how old I was... haha, he thought I might like to go out for a drink sometime. Of course, then when he realized I'm not old enough to drink, I realized I had a problem. Because he's 28. Which I didn't know. BUT STILL. What an ego boost, even if he is way too old. It's too bad. :)

david went home to God today, around 2pm.

he's finally free, and I am so happy.

It's not about me, but I'm scared too.

I don't know what to say any more, except that I feel lost.

What did david do wrong? Did he cook with too much teflon? Ingest grass chemicals as a child? Sniff asbestos?

Why david? Why not my grandmother, gretchen, vince, matthew cannon? I'm not trying to substitute them, I just want to know.

"Will they do that surgery, then, so he can come home?"
"Well, not in the short term, no."
"He doesn't have a long term, Emily."
"I know, AJ, but he may not have a short term."

I don't know if I can handle seeing my brother cry.

I'm watching Pimp My Ride and hating myself. Hating that people are watching this and caring about it when, right now, a little boy is dying. 16. He's a boy. Their jokes aren't funny, because a little boy is dying.

I guess somewhere, at any time, someone is dying. I hate to guess that, but it's true. It's completely different when it's someone you know.

And the scariest part is, four feet from david's hospital bed is another one, with another little boy or girl, just as sicka nd just as close to death. It is the ICU, after all. I'm sure one or two of them often doesn't make it through the night. All these little kids... That's all they are. Kids. Kids my age.

I have a notepad file on my desktop entitled "things to do before I die." This seems ironic now, because it's full of things like "learn hindi" "fall in love" "knit a sweater" "explore south america" "ride a vespa" "kiss in the rain" "sky dive" and "discover a cure for something". I wonder if david did any of these things.

I guess this is a blessing. I mean, his family won't have to bring him home and, through the donations of others, pay for hospice and watch him waste away to the point that he can no longer bathe himself, use the bathroom, eat, drink, and eventually even blink. No one wants to see that. (I keep hearing "but"s in my head. But what if they could see that? But what something could extend his life? But what if they could say goodbye?)

This is not about me. I don't want the emails saying that you're sorry. I know, but don't be sorry for me. Be sorry for the grays. Be sorry for david, who never got to grow past the awkward teenage high school years and finally grow into himself. Don't even think about being sorry for me.

This is in God's hands. I know that, beyond a shadow of a doubt. It's the only thing keeping me from being distraught, and I know that holds true for mrs gray (and hopefully for david, in whatever shadow of consciousness he's in). God knows, and if taking him quickly means that he doesn't have to waste away, that's totally for the best. I know that. If it means healing him so he can go peacefully at home, that's for the best, too. If it means a miracle, then that's for the best, absolutely. And I don't know what's best, which is why I'm glad I'm not God. How do you decide something like that?

David has something amazing waiting for him. I have the ultimate trust in a God who understands David, who forgives his skepticism of an everlasting, forgiving, loving Father when the only father figure he's ever known has been a deadbeat. (I pray for him, too, by the way. Maybe that will be the miracle that the grays need.)

If anything, if this is the time for David to go home to God, then Godspeed to him. I don't understand, and I doubt I ever will, but I know that I don't have to. I know that God's watching over this with bated breath, and it's silly to think that he could ever make a mistake, that he could have ever lost focus or taken a bathroom break and, subsequently, David deteriorated. God knows what he's doing.

A new life with Jesus sounds pretty darn good at this point in the very, very long blog.

I hope that's what stays through my head the last few days. A new life with Jesus.

Oh, God. Please.

this morning, david gray was moved into the ICU because he was having trouble breathing.

as of 3pm or 4pm, they discovered a huge tumor was pushing on his bronchial tube and restricting his breathing. He was moved onto a ventilator and is heavily sedated.

david may not make it through the night.

---
these are the facts. when you state them like this, it doesn't sound like a 16 year old boy is dying. like a mother, brother, and sister aren't losing their brother, son, friend. like a boy who's never been to college, never gotten a high school ring, never been to a prom, never gotten married, and never fallen in love isn't losing his two year battle with an aggressive cancer that's finally winning.

how do you call your son and tell him his brother is dying?

yo me preocupo.

I'm worried. I'm worried about my brother, whom I've found out is, or has become, a huge partier. I'm worried about how much he's drinking, I'm worried that he's fifteen, I'm worried that his friends are why he's doing it, and most of all, I'm worried because he never told me. I'm worried that we've grown so far apart that we can't even talk about stuff like this.

I talk about stuff like this. Or, rather, I would if I drank. I guess... I mean, I always knew we ran in different circles, but I never imagined he'd be doing stuff like this, and right under my mother and father's noses.

And they were so strict and so worry-wort-y with me. And now, now they think they're being just as strict, but they obviously aren't. Something's going on here.

Por favor, Dios mio, dame la fuerte. And the wisdom, whatever the Spanish word for that is.

I need to know what to do.

On Tuesday, one of the youth leaders at my youth group saw me driving into the parking lot, going too fast because I was late for youth, and mentioned to me later that he "saw that white car coming down the road and was like, geez, that girl's going really fast" and then was "shocked to find that that girl was [me]."

Yeah. Umm... I never really fancied myself someone who speeds, but that has really stuck in my head the past few days. Speeding. It's not just about when you drive, but how you look at life. I race, always multitasking, always running, always in a hurry. How often do I take walks? Whenever I drive somewhere, I look at the speed limit, instantly add 5 miles/hour to it (I once heard they won't pull you over for going less than 5 miles per hour over the limit), and go that speed. I've been making an effort to go either the posted speed limit or one mile/hour over it the last few days, and I've really learned a lot. It sounds dumb, but 5 miles/hour faster won't get you somewhere any faster. Running a yellow light won't get you somewhere any faster, because if it's that necessary, you're already late.

I'm a late person, but I fight it and speed and worry amd stress to try to get somewhere on time. I'm done with that. I'm a late person, and I'm going to be late. And you know what? You notice a lot more when you slow down and enjoy the drive.

--

Also. I heard once that it's unChristian to tell someone else how much so-and-so hurt you, because it spreads ill will about so-and-so. That's really hard to do, but I'm doing it right now. So, that hurt me, so-and-so. I wish I hadn't seen it in the first place.

spontaneity and nature and love (and run-on sentences).

Last night I looked up at the sky and felt dwarfed. I'm reminded of a line from Ps. 8, "I look up at your macro-skies, dark and enormous, your handmade sky-jewelry, moon and stars mounted in their settings. Then I look at my micro-self and wonder, why do you bother with us?" Except, I didn't wonder the second part.

Then I turned to go inside and glanced up again, a retreating look, and saw the big dipper. My favourite constellation (because it was always the only one I could find until the past few years) glowing brightly; jutting out against the deep plum and watery blues of the sky. I teared up a bit.

I'm a sap, I know.

But sometimes... I just look at nature and think, wow. What an incredible God we have, to have blessed us so much. And how awesome it is that I can experience this. Like Sunday night, when I hiked through Wintergreen Gorge and its accompanying creek with my friend Brian. Standing knee deep in creek water and staring up at at least 100 feet of solid slate rock forming a gigantic, imposing, thunderous wall, I realized... this is the life. I doubt there's much better.

Oh. And that feeling, that heart-pounding, gut-wrenching, stomach-in-throat feeling that comes as you stare down from a ledge to the rocky pool maybe 10 feet below, wondering if you'll have the nerves to jump. And then stepping backwards, running, pushing off against the last bit of dirt at the edge of the drop off with trepidation and carelessness, wondering if you're going to regret this and unable to quell the scream of fright, wonder, craziness, and amazement that rises in your throat as you sail through the air, heading downwards so fast and so slow at the same time that the world seems to stop. And then, whoosh, hitting the surface of the water and obiedently crumpling your legs beneath you so as not to hit the jegged rocks that lie six feet or so under the depths, fighting up to the surface, flipping back your hair, and grinning with pride.

That's taking life by the horns, I'd say.

redbull and vodka, $1 wednesdays

I haven't been sad in a long time. I don't remember, anyway, the last time I felt truely, utterly, tearfully sad. Probably around march/april, when my great aunt was so ill and in the hospital. I'd never imagined, really, quite what dying people look like until then. I know now, though I can't say I feel much wiser about it.

No, but, tonight, after watching the painted veil, I feel sad. I bawled through the last fifteen minutes of the movie, and still, thinking about it, I get teary. Even while typing this. I heard once that women cry at romantic scenes in movies because they wish that for themselves and are unhappy with the state of affairs in their own lives. For me, that's... I dunno, 30% true? In theory, I tell myself that I haven't figured out myself or God enough to try to shove someone else into that equation, and I do like how I am. Mostly, though, I don't think I have it in me to devote myself to another relationship that will pull me from god, my family, or myself.

But goodness, tonight, do I feel lonely. Not lonely, even, just... I could use a hug. Not just the comfort of the Lord nearby, but a real, person-to-person, physical hug. And I don't believe that God begrudges us that, the human desire for contact. He built us, anyway.

So. There it is, then.

self-actualization be darned.

So, I read in this book this weekend (praise habit by david crowder. I'm going to lend you that, too) that God in our lives should be compared to one of those habits that the nuns wear. As in, people see it and make judgements about you as a person; about what you're like to relate to, about how you feel about things, etc. And while "habits" are also defined as little things that you do often and unconsciously, they are also a name for the heavy clothing that nuns and monks wear each day. If Christ can be that habit, both the unconscious way of acting in situations because of his influence and the unconscious decision, each morning, to wake up and not say, "what am I going to wear today" but instead, "I'm going to wear Christ today as the most visible part of my attire."

It's a weird concept, but I like it. I guess, personally, I only really like who I am when I'm wearing that habit of Christ... and that's how it should be, right? Because with Christ, I am not self conscious about my hair, my clothes, my body, my laugh, whatever. With Christ, it's all about Him--I draw my glory from him, as I think people were created to do. In fact, even Christ once said, "My glory comes from the Father." Isn't that our role, then? To draw our glory from God, not from other people or a society that forces us to conform to standards that are not particularly Christ-like?

If even Christ drew his glory from the Father, far be it from me to try to get mine anywhere else.

Self-actualization be darned.

when I think about looking in mirrors, I remember physics I with mr harvey and sarah bennett and julie welch, and learning about concavity and convexity and points of reflection and lines of refraction. I remember drawing little pictures on the white board and thinking that mirrors never used to be that complicated. You just look in one and you see what you see. Or, alternatively, you see something and spend time criticizing and it moving around and breathing differently and hoping that other people won't see what the mirror does.

it's similarly difficult to look back at my own life and see it objectively. like, now, I realize how other people saw my relationships or crushes or whatever, but at the time I was so head over heels that I couldn't see that.

I learned a lot from each of these boys. I owe them a lot for that, if nothing else.

Joe -- I really, really liked this kid. I can't even remember who, if anyone, there was before him, and he was my first real introduction into the dating "scene." Joe held my hand and I can still remember that huge shivery feeling that stayed with me the entire movie that he stayed like that. I learned from Joe that if a boy has to debate between you and two other girls, and comiserates with you about how hard it is for him to choose, he's not worth it. I learned that cockiness isn't as attractive as one would think. I learned that just because a couple breaks up doesn't mean it's forever (particularly when they break up a lot) and that you should take some serious time before moving in on that. Finally, it sounds silly, but if a boy doesn't return a kiss, there's nothing there.

Danny -- There was absolutely no reason why danny and I should have broken up. He was everything joe wasn't--kind, caring, sweet, not overly cocky. He gave chase, Joe didn't, and he really, really liked me. I think I didn't like him as much and as fast, at the time, and it became the sort of thing where we just... grew apart. From Danny, I learned that boys sometimes do those romantic gestures that they do in movies. It's not all fake. I learned that you shouldn't date someone who likes you more than you like them, and that there are boys out there who can hold you in their arms and have you not worry about crushing them. I also learned, for the first time, that it's better when your family likes who you're dating. It solves a lot of problems later, and they have a knack with knowing who's good and who's bad news.

Matt -- Matt and Danny were (are) polar opposites. Matt was the pot smoking, poetic, skinny, well-dressed drinker, and Danny was the sweet, safe, preppy trombone player. Matt really liked me, I think, but I never really knew and I never really figured out why. I felt, quite a bit, that I was a replacement for Andona, and that never really worked for me. Matt and I used to spend hours at panos talking and reading his poetry, and he was the first boy that I could talk to for hours and hours day by day by day and never get tired or bored with his opinions. From Matt, I first realized how frustrating it is to be with someone who never lets you know how they feel; who treats you well but always leaves you wondering how you could fix yourself; how you could be skinnier, smarter, prettier for him. Matt messed with me a little, and my priorities were really out of whack while I tried to mold myself to what he wanted me to be.

Cassidy -- Cassidy was a nice kid. That's what I had thought, anyway. I mean, he really liked it, and he made it perfectly clear. He moved way too fast for me, and I agreed because I didn't want him to leave me for being inexperienced. He didn't like my family, and when I'd be upset because of a fight with my mother, or something, he'd try to support my opinion and trash talk my mother. (I don't know about you, but that doesn't make me feel better. In fact, it just makes me hate myself for hating my mother). I remember thinking how lucky I was to have someone like Cassidy like me. I never imagined that someone like him would like someone like me, and so I was willing to overlook the swearing, the hating going to church, the physical-ness, the clinginess. There are two times in my life when I've been furthest from God, and not suprisingly, the coincide with the unhappiest times--when I was struggling to find myself in the Catholic Church, convinced that there was something wrong with me if I couldn't find God here, as my mother and grandparents and whole entire materal family had, and while I was dating Cassidy. He hated church, and he made it clear, sometimes keeping silent for my benefit, and sometimes not. Cassidy often convinced me that my morals were flexible. I wish I had had enough tenacity of character to have stood up to him, but I didn't, except on the matter of sex, and I wonder how long I would have held out.

I have asked God for forgiveness for what I did with Cassidy. I know that sounds silly to a lot of people, but once we broke up, I realized just how screwed up he made me. Maybe it doesn't count, because I was dating him, but I figure that I was so upset and awkward and scared about it at the time, that it does. I need it to, and so I believe that, because I believe in the forgiving and loving nature of God. I've never said this outloud before, how dirty I felt for months after we broke up; how I cried in the car on the way home from church, thinking about how I was no longer the clean Christian girl that they esposed in church every weekend. God made me clean again, and I am so thankful I can barely say it.

Since then, I've been terrified to let go of His hand, because I only know and like myself through him; when I'm wearing the "habit" of Jesus, as David Crowder so beautifully phrased it.

I think the central theme with all of these boys is the desire to mold myself to their views of a perfect girlfriend. Sure, there are compromises to be had in any relationship. Danny liked concerts, I didn't at the time, but I went with him and felt awkward and hated the music and suffered through it because I felt like I owed him. Cassidy liked being affectionate in public, I hated it (HATED IT) and still do and felt awful and awkward but did it because he would be so upset later if I didn't, and I didn't want to have to deal with him being upset about it. I see a difference there--there's doing something you don't want to do because you care about the other person, and then there's doing what you want to do because you dno't want to have to suffer the reprocussions with the other person. The latter is how I approach a lot of arguments with my mother; I do things like clean the kitchen because I don't want her to be upset.

I don't think that's a compromise. We do it all the time, forcing ourselves to drive slower because we don't want a ticket, for example, but that's a bad way of looking at it. What about being proactive, rather than defensive, and driving slower so that we don't hit anyone or endanger ourselves?

Maybe I'm not going anywhere with this. It just seems to me that I've never been comfortable enough with who I am to allow myself to think proactively when it comes to compromise. When I know there's something I don't want to do, I tend to do it for fear of abandonment, or insecurity, or whatever. As if, if I don't do this, I'll be alone and I'll realize how fat / stupid / ugly I am. So I do it.

That's scary when you imagine the consequences that it could have.

So, I know the cassidy one here is the longest, but I forgot to talk about what I learned from him. I learned that I can't motivate someone else to try harder, want more, or be anything different. If you don't accept someone for who they am before dating them, don't do it. They won't change for you unless they want to, and you can't bank on that. I learned that if someone doesn't like your family and won't make an effort to fix it, they aren't worth keeping around. I learned, most of all, that if someone won't come to church with you, they aren't worth your time. Ever. I think that lesson is the most important one.

I've met a lot of boys in Atlanta, at the Emory weekend and at Coke, and I know I'll meet a ton more this coming year. My parents gave me a little gift basket of silly gag gifts for graduation, and one of them was a little bottle of scope mouthwash for "my first atlanta smooch." I didn't realize, even before I started writing this, how scared that makes me.

Scared, but at the same time, excited, because the possibility is so great. I really think I like Southern boys. Who knows? With Jesus by my side... He and I, we'll take the sky.

when my mother told me you were dying

when my mother told me you were dying
I put on my nikes
and ran 1.8 [years backward] miles before
vomiting on the side of the road.

I think now about the length of those
1.8 years (the difference
between me and you)
and remember kisses, fights, bike rides,
nights spent in Spain debajo el cielo estrellado,
blisters on the heels of my feet.

I remember a succession of boys,
thin, round, tall, short, cocky, embarrassed,
sweet and angry alike,
and most notably
the 1.8 years of choosing between them.

I remember deaths, births, let-downs, surprises,
getting the flu.

So now, hours later,
I sit here smelling
of cigarettes and maturity,
arrogance and bullshit,
subtlties and smiles,
just as I did when I was [cute and] sixteen.

So now I wonder -- am I
caught in the whirlwind
with you?
--17 may 07
--for david.

there's a trimspa commercial on tv.

I don't like to think of myself as naive. I think that, in truth, few of us do, as it's a weakness that can often lead us into trouble in the wrong situations. For me, at least, I know that I've always tried so hard to seem "mature for my age," just because I've always been so much younger than everyone else.

This week, though, I've really had to confront my naivete of the world, but most specifically, of people. With the backlash of this article, I've been dealing with constant comments from everyone, some good (mostly out-of-school people) and some bad (mostly in-school people). To be frank, I'm sick and tired of talking about it, esp. considering that I'll have to confront it again tomorrow when this girl's letter to the editor runs in the Times. (This girl's one of the drinkers, too. Ugh. I can't help it; I'm just sick of listening to the moaning and groaning about it). People don't like to be reprimanded. I know this, I learned it firsthand in elementary school. But it's just a bit hard to deal with all of the fall out, even though I pretend like it's fine. No one really likes to be hated all the time.

But, naivete. I guess I went into this whole thing (the decision to publish the article in the paper) feeling like I had the backing of a bunch of teachers. Now, I wonder, whom did I offend? And what about those who supported me only out of hatred for gornall, rather than real belief in what I was saying? Not to mention everyone who SHOULD care about my article (Mssrs. Viera, Cook, Suppa, and Dr. Gorn) who refuse to out of desire for political advancement?

My mother says that I should have thought of some of this before hand. That I should have considered the ulterior motives of the people who supported me and the people that I thought I was reaching, and then chosen whether to publish based on that. I didn't, however, because I don't read people like that. I don't assume them to be bad, or to be scheming for or against me based on how they can best help themselves.

I didn't expect that one of my friends would agree with my article, talk to her boyfriend, and completely change her opinion and flip out on me and everyone and really shake the friendships to their core. I didn't expect that kids would put up posters of me in the hallways, or that some teachers would print out copies of my article and mock them with their classes. I just didn't expect this.

This week has been really hectic, and because of all of this stress, aps, and finals, I've really taken my eyes off of God and kept them here. Straight and narrow vision. It's not good, and I know that if I can just take a step back and breathe, it'll be doable.

Do you ever feel like stress is keeping you away from God? Like, if I wasn't running every morning at 5am, I wouldn't be so wiped at 10:30, and I wouldn't be too tired to read something, to get inspired, to get closer to God.

I've even been neglecting the music ministry small ground discussion group. uuugh.

I don't want to wait for all of this to end to reconnect, Lord. I want to feel like I did a month ago. I need help.

It's only after admitting that we have a problem that we can begin to conquer it, right?

"and I hate that when I say I don't care, I really, really do."

Trying to make yourself not care
is a constant battle with thorned roses.
Isn't that what Seal was getting at?

I may not be able to prove it, but I can
disprove
the opposite ( 2+2 does not equal 19, 24, 3, 90, 11,
or 7).

I can't prove that I like you. But
I can disprove that I don't.

i can't prove that you think about me still
but I know that I still shiver when
I remember us dancing (misogynist music isn't usually fuel for love)
and that when I close my eyes
I remember nestling my head into your shoulder,
smiling when you told me not to worry
and shaking excess rainwater from my hair into your lap.

I can't prove that you remember
but I can disprove that you forgot.
--18 april 07

-est

They say to write well,
you need to write what you know.
Sitting in the back corner of the library
licking salt off of saltines
and writing observations that could pass for sarcastic
in a leather-bound notebook that could pass for artsy.

(Concluding paragraphs don't always mesh well with the introduction).

(and never use superlatives.)

This is what I know.
--april 17 07

woah.

my life right now is beautiful.

I've made so many friends, had such an incredible time, fallen in love with emory's campus and location and, well, everything except the constant hot weather, and so much more.

I'm floating on a cloud.

(I got a full ride to Emory. Tuition, room and board, fees, everything. 185k. I still can't believe it.)

Thank you Lord.

tru luv waitz

says the girl,
brown hair up in curls with the
pictures
of her two children on her
waitress order pad
"are you waiting?"
(not what you think she means).

coffee, dark like my men
and ice water please.
-6 january 2007

----------

I leave for Emory Wednesday morning. I'm both scared and excited--free vacations rock, but at the same time, what if they don't like me? What if I don't like the school and I'm forced to go there?

Yeah. It's nice to have a sense of calm about it. It'll work out, I know that. I'm just anxious to get it over with.

The quarter ends friday. GAH. Who knew? I have a bunch of stuff to do now.

I'm working a lot now. Thurs, Fri, Sat, Sun, and sometimes Mon. It's really not interfering, because I've basically stopped doing work, but I'm starting to get a big... I dunno, weirded out? by some of the stuff that the people share. Like, Chuck can talk about dressing up in drag all he wants to, whatever, but I don't really want to her him and Jo critique going down on a girl and giving head to a guy. -blanches- Who TALKS about that kind of stuff in public? Ick.

So, yeah, other than that, it's been really good. I'm happy. Everything's not working out the exact way I wanted it to, but I guess it's good, then, that I'm not in charge. My plans suck in the grand scheme, I think.

By the by, there's a cute boy at church that is absolutely impossible to talk to. I frustrate myself--when did I regress back to the emotional stage of a 12 year old girl?

I'm going to see The Swift on April 20. Are they good? -shrugs- I like the band that's opening for them, so whatever

the cd always disappoints.

for jessica.

at first, what strikes me is the sheer
loudness of the noise.
thud, thud, (there's too much base, I think)
thud,
then the lead guitar
takes off, dancing, jumping, screaming
those overhead lights
making his movements less impetuous
more controlled (and his pants seem even tighter).
We clap, cheer ("flash!" goes the camera) yell
along with him.

I wish so bad.

He probably wouldn't do anything,
but I wonder, then,
what would Jesus do say?

(he'd be proud.)

Under those lights
your silhouette glows gold
your mammoth shadow red,
small behind the
eternity of your one second gaze.
--12 march 07

vieillir

My grandmother will always
hold out her left hand to shake hello
cancer leaves an awkward taste in one's mouth.
What saved her life killed her right arm.
Coincidence?
We are our own worst
(misjudged)
first impressions.
-deux mars 07

double oh seven

how highschool is too highschool
and we all know it's not cool to be gay
and that you're damned to hell if your shoes don't match your (pants, shirt, purse, necklace, notebooks, irises) everythings.
purple eyeshadow is limited to wednesday. try not to
forget again.
the stairs are a nobackup zone
and you can't parallel park (in the hallway between classes) on the westernmost streets, but only because they intend to plow and never do (it's
not like it snows the entire time from oct 31 - apr 1).
you park there anyway. peer pressure made you do it.

Traffic rules don't begin to apply to you until you hit 25 (middle age).

lunch is the hemorrhage that constantly pains our asses
and your table dictates your place in the caste system of the india that is
the northwest pa collegiate academy
(except china is this year's topic).
We don't have the work ethic of the chinese (although they'd like to think we do).
How many of you got there by staring in
books surreptitiously perched open on your laps during tests?

my screen name doesn't have enough x's in it
and they're selling drugs in the reading room (which we, as
teenagers can't manage to keep [anything] clean)
ink stains on leather couches, sharpie slurs on bathroom walls,
(I once saw "Jane is a slut" scrawled on the wall of a confessional)
is anywhere sacred anymore?

highschool accounts for a large portion of suicides.
people get caught up in the seeming eternity of the moment
and bring guns to school.
(I wish I had the courage of the girl who said yes).
the pink hair stage won't last forever. (purple and blue didn't, remember?)

it's never as bad as we think and say
and the teachers we bitch about,
the ones that value accountability, are the best by far
so those 720 (4320; 259, 200) volan como relámpagos
especially with toute la groupe.

and as we walk in the blue and gold, down the red, and up to the white, brass, and strings,
people watching never gets any better.

--27 fevrier 10:19pm

November 29, 1995

You looked so sad, so scared, mouth open in a silent half scream in that
picture your town, right then,
gave to (whispering, they'd kill us if they knew we kept it) us.

You were wearing the same orange shirt when
the Lamas found you, prostrating themselves
as if before a king.
Were you, a farmer's son, suprised (you had me fooled), or did
you know all along that this was to be?

Leading a normal (he's a prisoner in
his own destiny),
happy life, said China. But they never produced you.
Bush said his weapons of mass
destruction were (was) volatile, and had to be found,
they claim you're docile and happy and cannot be.
Do either exist? Hopefully one will
explode
onto our radars.

Romeo yelled at the stars, but never really defied them.
He died in the end, anyway.

Leo acted, there, with his heart and soul (and lost
brain fluid spattering all over his sweetheart
in the process), it seems,
but never applied either to crisises overseas.
Angelina and George did, but they conviently
forgot Tibet.

doesn't everyone?

Taiwan pulled a Tina and survived
but instead of being beaten by their husband, they had to
fight off a giant like David did [much more the formidable foe, though not as coked-out]
It worked for them both, but
Taiwan modernized,
Baz Luhrman's score playing in the background.
And Ike took out his pent-up aggression by
pistol-whipping Tibet.

Did you know that you can get from Beijing to Lhasa in 15 hours?
That's twice as much time than it takes to
bleed out from your eye sockets
and 9 hours longer than it takes, when confronted with the situation, to
realize you're going to die
and the Panchen Lama light will
go out with you.
-17 Feb 07