First Day eve.

Stayed up late. Watched EVER AFTER. burned the popcorn. only a little. Ate mini animal crackers off the floor until Kayla insisted that I put them on the plate or I wold get the H1N1 virus. lol. I woke up at 7:00 and mourned the idea of having a meeting at eight in the morning.

Went to the meeting. After being the last people in the dining hall. And spilling my milk on the floor and having to carry my grapes in my Nalgene out of the cafeteria to the meeting.

Then we went to another meeting, about safety and I texted Alisha the entire time and we made jokes and decided to get a pet fish.

After all the intense meetings and my impatience rising, and my lack of sleep wacking me in the face every minute or so, we got a break time, and I jumped at the oppurtunity to go play the piano and record a new song (on my phone).

I'm excited for the music department. I peeked in some rooms and I believe they do have some recording equipment that I should be using. :)

We had some hall bonding and it was amazing. We made cards for our "mail partners"

Mine's name is Allison. She's in the Honors program. There are three girls in our hall in the honors program. And three that are biology majors. So I'm all set to do really well and study a lot.

It's hard to be away someone I want to see and hug and kiss everyday. It's even harder when we can't understand or I can't be sensitive when there's something serious said and I cannot be. I try to be a funny person by nature, so being serious when I'm uncomfortable is difficult.

But I am realizing that life is full of uncomfortable feelings. And I am accepting it now and loving the idea. Even though it's uncomfortable. I feel love is more important than being completely comfortable. So I'm going to try to find a balance in that.

Orientation Day One

I moved in today. It was great. I didn't carry one thing up to my room. Kayla and Paul and Sarah and Esther and Anna and Mom and Grandma and Grandpa all did that whilst I was waiting to get my room key. It was amazing.

My mother has been having more fun than I have. She took a nap on my bed between sessions. 

I've met so many random people, it's been great. What's better though, is the connections that I actually have with these people. There are two people that I went to elementary school with that are attending EMU. One's name is also Grace, and is in my hall, and we got to start getting to know each other again since the last time I actually saw her was probably fifth grade. We had the same teacher for third grade. But she looks the same, and she says I look the same. It's been refreshing to meet someone easy going. Not that everyone her isn't easy going. Another time, we sat down at lunch with my "cyber-stalker" aka the girl that is introducing me for our honors class. I had no idea that it was her.

Then it's just been fun seeing people that I sort of know. I met a lot of people during Honors weekend that have ended up here, and more! I'm excited to meet all of the people I haven't yet!

This evening I went to Common Grounds and spent time with girls I didn't know playing games that had no point, but it was amazing. It was just great fellowship (and a freaking awesome frappiccino) and after playing the games, I talked with several different girls--Allie and Britney and it was good fun. Now there's more familiar faces even though I don't know their names yet. But there's a grace period for that as well.

Everyone here is so inviting and kind and wonderful, except for one girl in my transitions class that said that I was loud. (we met in the library and I was noticing how EXTREMELY quiet the building was). But I figure either she'll warm up, or have a reality check that people are of different volumes. 

I got to talk to Phillip Martin about music and classes and pretty much anything. I feel like we could talk for hours. I'm glad we have Ethics and Chem together. He's a great guy.

I also spoke with Ryan Eshelman, after cyber stalking him the past month. Which I feel horrible about because I feel unkind and by far it hasn't been complete reflection of his personality. He's kinder than the contact people described, and completely forgiving of my intrusive nature. I made the awesome surprise for the introduction today, by the way. Yay for quality guys at school! It's just a priviledge to attend a school (aka NOT Streetsboro) that has guys that are mature and respectable. Of course, I knew that that was going to happen.

So this evening, after I left Common Grounds, I made my Favorite call of the day to Zach.

I walked while I talked because Anna brutely reminded me that visiting someone to borrow their straightener while talking on the phone with someone else is completely rude. So I walked around a track that I discovered North of my dorm. For probably close to an hour of the conversation. Great idea. Bad shoes. Why do I always do this? I wore flip flops. And so I figured that they would give me blisters if I walked in them the entire time, so I just took them off and walked barefoot for awhile. But then I realized that my entire foot was going to be blistered. So I walked on the grass while I could and then on the track as little as possible. But I kept it up the entire time. I wasn't out of breath, but I wasn't dwaddling. But my feet are burning a little now..

Zach's a joker. He told me today that he hung out with a girl he used to date which is true. But then he said that she wanted to get back together with him, and he said he would. And in my head, I was freaking out, because he used to talk about that back when we first started dating. But he was joking. And then later I was talking about all the great guys I have been meeting and how he should come visit to meet them, and he was telling me it would be okay for me to date other guys, and I was telling him that, no I did not want to do that, and yes I was sure. And sure enough, joking, again. And last but not least I was telling him the only guys that I would be comfortable going to see in their dorm rooms were Evan, Mike, and Paul, and Zach retorted that by no means should I speak to Evan or Mike, and if I even thought about approaching their dorms (which Mike lives in Northlawn, which is where the cafeteria is) that he would beat the crap out of me. Again joking. But this time I knew. Zach counseled at Camp with both Mike and Evan. So, "bunnybutt", if you are reading this, you are a thick stupid little man sometimes, but I'm still crazy for you. And you make me insane when you joke like that, turd.

My roomie and I are bonding. After having some phone tag and such, we finally met up after the first chapel meeting and then have recently bonded over the fact that she forgot her ID to get into the dorm after ten. So she texted me and I came and saved her.

I took my first shower. We have what used to be a boys floor, so there's two showers and no changing area within the shower. I adjusted right away and really have no problem. We were talking about adding a curtain to the area with the urinal for a changing stall. 

New Crayons 101

So I bought a new box of Crayola Crayons. Like a week ago. I hadn't used them until I decided to bring them to church to take notes of the Sermon. I sat with the MYF and let the three girls next to me color or take notes.  

Jessica took tasteful notes on the sermon. 

Jenni and Ruthie colored two different signs, each saying, "GO" and "JESS!"

Halfway through coloring the purple polka-dotted "JESS" sign, a purple crayon was broken.

Later on, I discovered the dark green had also snapped, and mourned the loss of it.

Jenni was in a fit of giggles, and proceeded to keep coloring and I was more aware of what crayons she was using.

Later on, when I was using my crayons again I found that one of the oranges was broken, and my yellow-green snapped shortly after.

So I decided to make a list of rules/ guidelines for crayons.

1. Don't color hard! They are not wooden. The crayons will break if you color at a bad angle, or if you try to get the paper the color of the crayon wax.

2. Respect the crayons. I like them. They make me happy and excited for school, so I think that they should be given some type of respect. Don't break crayons. They are made less wanted when broken. I actually wrote a poem about that.

3. Don't just doodle. Seriously color what you seriously want to.

4. Love the crayons. They are beautiful and make beautiful pictures. :)

That's all I could come up with. But Jenni, if you ever read this, remember to love the crayons, because they love you too.

First Day in Harrisonburg, and yes, I'm rather long winded

On Wednesday,  I drove eight hours to get here. We left at 11:50 and then drove straight on, trying to remain under eighty, until 8:26. So that's eight hours and a half. Whatever. I had been hoping for at least a two hour break at some point, but in then end, I was the chauffeur the entire way. My sister enjoyed my company, the free Starbuck's, and the privilege of paying for the gas (not that it was that much). She's afraid of semi-trailers and three lane highways. And of getting gas... Plus, I think that she was nervous about the trip and not knowing the way (although we had clear directions--the roads were not clear) But anyway, we made it, the last two hours going nearly eighty miles an hour whenever I could have the chance--I was tired of sitting and having to think about the road the entire way. And yes I did go ninety a couple of times. But we were going down a hill--no big deal. 

Other than having to drive the entire time, I enjoyed talking to my older sister about her new (and first) boyfriend. She was excited about talking about him, and we must have talked about them for a good two or three hours on and off. A good chunk of the drive was taken up. And the Starbuck's really wasn't a big deal because eariler in the summer, my younger sister and I were at the Mennonite Convention in Columbus, and were persuaded by Matt Lehman to sing opera at the Hesston Booth and we got free five dollar Starbuck's cards, so the drinks that Anna and I got at Starbuck'c only cost us a total of $1.04, and on the receipt there was a stamp that said I could get another cold drink for only two dollars after 2:00, so when we stopped again, I got one of the new Vivanno Strawberry Banana Smoothie. It was wonderful. I paid a total of $3.00 for three different drinks. The best deal on Starbuck's I have ever gotten.

Anyway, Thursday came around. I think I went to bed really early Wednesday night because I was so mentally drained from driving for so long. Of course, really early is ten thirty. But still.

So I woke up at eight thirty, probably because my sister Anna was already packing up some of her stuff--in the room we were sharing, to go on an overnight hiking trip with her long-time friend Natalie, who surprised us all when she arrived with a bright magenta buzz cut. (Her reasoning was that she was going to have to be a big person soon, so she needed to have fun before that.)

Anyway, I decided to work on decorating my notebooks for class. When you shop at Walmart for the .25 notebooks and are boring and flimsy, you HAVE to decorate them in some way, so I was working on that. Grandma was working on her sermon for Sunday, and I decided to finish that up, even though I had plans of walking over to EMU in the morning. We decided to go for lunch at the Bowl of Good. It's a restaurant with different types of ethnical food that come in bowls. It's near EMU, so I thought that it would be a young adult hangout. But when we got there everyone was grey haired! But either way it was a good place. The food was excellent and they are very pro-be-good-to-the-environment. 

Grandma dropped me off at the Campus Center, and I had to refocus my plans because I hadn't really thought about what I was going to do when I actually got there. I had plenty of questions and things to do but couldn't combine my thoughts. I was a little nervous and felt slightly out of place. But I figured it out. I went into the Campus Center and first found the rooms where my classes were going to be. Then I went back down the the first floor and found the Human Resources center.  My aunt works there, so I said, "Hi," and then we spoke for a little while and then she told me where the registrar's office was and I figured out where the admissions office was. I went over there and found out that my admissions counselor was out to lunch, so I walked to the large building which has the coffee shop and the bookstore and the coach's offices. I went to the bookstore and got the books that I needed that were specific to EMU, then I ventured downstairs, precautiously, to the cross-country coach's office. I was really nervous. I always get nervous when I'm not sure about something, and I want to do it, but I dread the idea of it at the same time. But I got my nerve up, and I went and talked to him. I don't feel like I would fit in with the team, but I really want to stay in shape for me.  So as of now, I'm still not sure if this is something that I am willing to do. Running to race has been a hatred for me in the past, and since I do not want to hate anything that I do religiously, I may decide to run in the morning by myself, with the sweet music that my love put on my ipod. 

After that meeting, I went back to the Admissions office, where Mark Risser still was not back from his lunch, so I sat down and was looking at last year's yearbook. Good stuff. Anyway, eventually he arrived, gave me a EMU shirt (WOO) and then proceeded to direct me to the guy in the Registrar's office who knew what I was doing with all my credits-- Dave Detrow. So when he got out of his meeting, I met with him. We talked over my classes and the fact of my graduating it three years, which he said was possible because of the freaking sixty credits that I brought with me. So if I stick with my Biology major and Music minor I can and will do it. The only reason majoring in Music would make it more difficult was the fact that Music classes and Biology labs clash. So time would mess around with that stuff. I'm meeting him again in a couple hours to go over my ratings sheet (like my three year plan). He told me to head over to the Music department after that. 

I had concerns with my Introduction to Music Theory class because I read the description in the course catalog and looked at the book and I figured that I could test out of it, so I didn't buy the book when I was in the bookstore. So there's an entrance exam that I can take to opt out of it. The only problem is filling the two credit gap in my schedule and so that is another thing that Mr. Detrow and I are going to talk about today. 

I went to the music department and found out the name of my piano teacher who I still need to email to set up a lesson time, and I also found out when the exemption exam was, but I forgot. I think it's around 10:30 on Monday. Still not sure. I may go over the the Music department again, and ask again. Or go through my stuff and see if it's on the pile of information.

After that I continued to go around the campus to find where my classes were to be held, so I ended up in Hartzler Library in the basement and I couldn't quite find room 121. But I walked past the ID table, and the lady working there had no one, so she asked me if I'd like to make an ID. Stuttering through my "I'm a first year and I'll do it during orientation" statement, she said I could do it then anyway. So I did, which was good because I didn't like the first picture that she took so she let me take another one, which I would not have been able to do if I came during orientation. So that was good. 

I walked over to the Suter Science Center, and found where my classes were in that building. It was the most confusing building so far but luckily my biology and chemistry lectures are in the same room.  I went to the office because I couldn't for the life of me remember what the name of the teacher in charge of work study was, so I found the office by way of them. 

I was the first one who he spoke to, so I had first pick on the work-study options. I found on that was perfect for me--I'm hopefully going to be a research assistant for a neuroanatomist and help with her study of the frogs. It's perfect. :)

After that, I figured out which of the dorms was Elmwood and then I walked back to Grandma and Grandpa's house. It was hot, but I remembered the way.

There was still some things that I needed to do. But there is still today so I'm excited and still a little but nervous, but I have found my bearings A LOT more than before.

Tomorrow!

Tomorrow I'm a college student.
Fully independent. (Well, not quite, but I'm getting There)
Tomorrow my sister and I drive the nine hour trek to Harrisonburg VA.
I start classes in just a week.
My life will never be the same.
I'm on the adrenaline of motivation to do this!
I just have to spend time and money and I love it, and it's completely fine.
I'm finally expanding my horizons in the way I want to!
I'm going to be what I want to be.
I'm going to take the classes I want to take.
I'm going to express myself in music and in words and in art and I'm going to find a way to make it all work.
I'm going to teach and learn and write and sing and play until I have graduated.
I'm devoting this time to relationships and academics
Laughter and tears.
Anger and Joy.
Here I come.
God I ask for your guidance as I leave this house tomorrow, never to come back the exact same.
It's your plan for me to step out of this comfort zone.
It's your plan for me to become this person ahead.
It's you plan for me to find my passion.
Maybe it's beyond music and art. Maybe it's not.
But whatever happens I'm still me, I still know God.
Even if I don't know what I want.
Here's to life ahead and the joys within it.

I am overwhelmed.

My sister and I are leaving the day after tomorrow for Virginia, where I begin my higher education.

My mother has bought more clothes and things for me in the past three days than she ever has in her life. I'm overcome by the fact that I feel fashionable for the first time in my life and now by the fact that I feel like I have too many things that I don't need.

I know at some point I will, in fact, need them, but at this point I feel like I'm a waste of money and I waste of space in this study of this home.

The vehicle that my sister and I are taking to college is in the shop right now, and now needs some parts that will not come until the afternoon of the day which we were planning to leave in the morning. Luckily my parents are gracious enough to pay the bill.

I still have to look through my piano books to find what i'm taking to college. It's something I love but it's adding to the stack of things that I feel will take up all the space I will have in this car, not te mention my sister's as well. Just with my clothes.

To add to the stress, I'm beyond exhausted, despite having enough sleep the night before and enough exercize.

So I feel self indulging, selfish but still slightly beautiful, but in the way the Bible says not to. (the do no braid your hair part)

And I feel like the day doesn't end without a conversation with ze boy, even though we had said conversation eariler in the day because that was when the phone line was availiable.

So where am I? Stressed, exhausted, leaving in little but hours. And so Peace would be nice.
I haven't found it yet. I haven't sought it.

Thus I leave you now to sight the peace I need to function in the wretched world.

Melancholy Memories

My family was visiting another family from church this evening, and I, tired as I am from my late night conversations and blogs was sweetly escorted home early by my father. I had worn my sparkled slip-on shoes, but he still asked me if I wanted to walk the last mile home. Though I hesitated, I decided that it would be good.
It was reflective and beautiful. The sun had gone down, and there was remnants of its light-- pink and orange wisps of clouds over the flat cornfields. There was a sliver of a crescent moon smudged with darker grey clouds, barely standing out but making itself known either way. I noticed it. I enjoyed it.
And as I was reaching half a mile from home, a quarter mile from home, I was struck with all the memories of walking home from school in the afternoon, in the evening, and sometimes late at night in my home in Streetsboro. The crispness in the air reminded me of first days of school when I was allowed to walk to school-- it reminded me of the early mornings right befor dawn that I headed out to school to conquer my studies. It reminded me of the sweet friendships that I held onto, and though some slipped through my grasp, I still had a group of people that cared and loeved me. And I was reminded of that on my walk home.
My eyes were moist as I made the step toward home. But they were not soaked. I do not cry over good relationships. I was happy for the good times and now I am meloncholy that there will be fewer good times less often.
And I am reminded also that slip on shoes are not the best walking shoes, as there is no support, and there tends to be a rubbing sensation of the back of the ankle.

Being a Pastor's Kid

You might think that being the spawn of a godly person is a blessing or a curse. It's actually a position where tagging along to work is recommended, sometimes required, and not going with the 'rents to work is frowned upon. That is my position. I am, as some would say, a PK. Not a Penalty Kick, or a Peanut King, but a Pastor's Kid.
My sisters and I have been PKs since 2002, when our parents graduated from EMS and got a time and a half position at AMC in Aurora, Ohio. It has been fun because everyone in the church wants to know you, wants to know your name and how you are and if you truyl are excited about going to school in the fall. But it can get annoying. Everyone knows your name and your parents, so when you are out and about and you don't remember names and they recognize you, well, you can imagine. It has been easier in the past. My parents recently moved to a new church and a new, larger congregation, at WCMC. The people here are great friendly people. It has been rather easy for them, as you can imagine, to learn the five in our family's names. Then they throw in their two hundred names. So it's not always potlucks and fourpart harmony, so you know.
There are pros and cons to being a Pastor's Kid. First of all, it's like having no pastor at all. Because your pastor is your parent, you can't talk to them about your issues. At least not as easily. I am a bold girl, and have expanded upon these rules, and I told my parents about my relationsip with my boyfriend. I told them as my parents, not as my pastors. I cannot talk to my parents as pastors. That is impossible for me. They are "Mom" and "Daddy". Nobody else. Because I can never let them switch roles from work to home (switching from "Pastor Jess" to "Dad"), their puting in hours at church, "working" is much more like a lifestyle. That's another reason why it's weird for me to imagine that they are at work. It has been my lifestyle for the last seven years of my life. I'm so used to it now I couldn't understand another type--and now I'm heading off to college to figure out what the future holds for me and entering a new lifestyle of my own.
There are great things about being a pastor's kid-- all of the questions I have about my sprituality can be answered by walking down the hall, or stepping out of the room. A larger majority of my parent's friends are also pastors so, in essence, I do have a lot of pastors that I can work with and talk about my issues with, but I worry about the connection to my parents and often don't talk to them like they are my pastors as well. I talk to them like they are my friends, mentors, or as my parent's friends.
As a lifestyle of being a pastor's child, I am spiritually more awake. I know what I should be doing to expand in my relationship with Christ. Thus, I attempt to read my Bible everyday. It is hard to get into that routine for me sometimes. Sometimes, praying is like talking to my dad. Sometimes it's like talking to the wall which I am staring at as I pray. God remains close to me as I go and learn and discuss what I need to.
There is much different perspective that many people may take for granted, but in our house, any gift that we have is great. It's talent, or hereditary, but more importantly, it is by far a wonderful gift from God. We recognize this as we get older and I attempt to exalt God with my musical gifts, and my wanting to serve other people.
My parents are very forgiving, as pastors, because being a Christian means that you take on the image of Jesus. This does not mean that I do whatever I want. I try to put on Jesus' clothes as well. But I have my own temptations and lack of self-control. God and my parents meet me where I am and let me know that they still love me no matter what decisions I make. Thus, I am somewhat of a prodigal duaghter.
I love where I am, and I love my parents. I do not mind being a pastor's duaghter, though sometimes it has it's flaws. But in the end, whatever my parents decided to be, there would be the same laughter and the same tears and the same quirks and farts and jokes. So I let it be, and enjoy the life I've been given.

Five Days Until Blast Off

So I am sitting at home, thanking God that the family computer is functioning. My parents didn't deem my Mac worthy of getting a wireless router before I went to college. Imagine! I have to add CDs of music to iTunes and then individually find the titles and artists to each of them in a network that actually works. And the interent only works half the time and there are SO many issues on this computer. It's not pretty.
I have been at home for only a little more than a week and somehow I have managed to make a huge mess of all the things that I own. My clothes are in disarray on my floor. They are in the closet as well, but mostly on the floor. I have books and various papers and journals splayed every which way, and the fact of the matter is that all of my stuff is crammed and I cannot for sure find anything.
I lost and found my cell phone today.
I found the Jason Mraz CD that I was worried was lost in our family's move at the beginning og the summer.
I have not recovered matching socks yet.
I'm ordering books as I write, which isn't good. School starts in two weeks. What if they don't get there in time?? Agh. Not scared. Not worried.
Speaking of things to worry about I just overcame the first most dreadful fear of my life with a simple minus sign. Now the dread is to tell my mom and dad and I haven't worked up the courage, nor have I had the actual option because they were both gone all day so far.
And I'm relieved and encouraged, as the future is more set in stone, but the spontaniety would have added something more interesting to my life so far. And my boyfriend's, although we wouldn't have been able to do many of the great things that we were planning to do.
There's still possiblity. But I don't think that I have anything to worry about. But that is not stopping me from praying.
God has taught me so much this far about using me even as a failure. I can use my experience to make better decisions about life. What to wait for and what not to wait for. And even though I have little patience and self control, God will still use me. I can be a great leader in other ways.
So heading to school soon has no effect on me. Just mental strain. Just lack of rest. Just lack of money. But in me, for myself, I will be great. And do great things.

I need a freaking medical discovery

And they should make poison ivy go extinct.
My life is ironic.

Just throwing that out there. I wake up at 4:20 in the morning to my poison ivy. You have no idea how long I have waited to be able to sleep in, and it still hasn't happened. I am very great ful for all the circumstances that I have had this summer, but NOT these.

I recently moved into my parents new house which is very much smaller than the one that we used to have. Last Sunday afternoon I declared I was going to weed, with the intentions of getting a shade darker as well. Little did I know that my forehead was going to bear resemblance to Spock, dangit. i have two blots of the hated poison on my forehead, one in the shape of a line and the other a blotch directly below my widow's peak line. Thus, I have yet to completely enjoy my new hair cut and eyebrow wax.

I do have medicine--I discussed poison ivy with my pediatrician before I left for camp, I suggested that perhaps I should get a shot of steriods (I had at one point when I was younger) that would keep the poison away for a couple of months. But instead she gave me this Desonide Cream. It's supposedly stronger than anti-itch cream and we got the big tubes. So I have been slathering it on like crazy. Especially on my forehead. I hope it causes dryness. Soon. There's not more of this that I can take.