and it's me

Caught up in my own mind

Overthinking, desiring perfection

But what is this perfection?

Doesn’t my mind change one million times?

I am my own person

I create Grace on every page

I’m crazy for independence

Outside the box

Spontaneous

There is beauty in plenty

Look left and right up and down

I see it here

Why would I need more than I have-

Is it insufficient?

Is there echoing space of empty?

Swirling lines of patterns drawn

Vibrating notes held out almost too long

Can you breathe now?

Warming toes with homemade socks

Braids in hairs undone, rebraided lots

I am chaos—I am a storming brain

Catch up, catch up, see I’m picking the pace here

I would fly if I’d been given wings

Tumble turning, belt the reason why

I wanna live until I die!!

Slipping falling dancing stalling

Laughing, holding secrets in

This is where it begins.

I’ll tease until I laugh and cry at the same time

Elbow just to prove a point

Scream if I’m surprised,

Tickled pink.

Real laughter comes with a little snort

Accept me,

Expect me to resort

To doing things the hard way

Or being the weird one

I don’t mind playing in snow barefoot

Feeling the cold brings the chill to reality.

It needs to hit home for me.

I mix melody and harmony for fun.

Why should I have to choose only one?

I am variety.

I melt molds of conformity.

Tiptoe into the garden

Eavesdrop on that Everlasting Voice

Bold be Strong, throw your note in

Sing loud, say what you mean

I have peace

I breathe a breath of relief

Stability

Christmas Break

I am driven crazy with the love that I am surrounded by.
The family that I get to spend time with
My peers, my very own academics, theologians, and companions.
There is so much beauty in the crossing of the lines in relationships because we are family.
We can argue/discuss SO many different things, but still get together next year to do it again, in love.

Laughter, being the best medicine, has rid me of negativity.
"Things", walks, showers, meals, runs, helping cook and clean, "Hahahahaha, weird"
Tickle fights with sisters, gas, joking about "spirits" with Grandpa
Discussions with avid thinkers on deep and relevant topics.

It calls me back to my first love: relationship.
Just being together, communicating, touching, relating, laughing.
Teaching younger cousins funny phrases.
Chasing other young cousins around in circles until we're both dizzy.
Swinging on swings like our preteen selves once did.
Reminiscing about the "distance" to the park, thrift store.
Running to Bethel and back with Mom (woowoo)

Doing new things. Welcoming and accepting the cousins who get older and more mature
Planning our future of everyone living together , or at least closer together.
Oh the growth that is happening now, in just a few short days.
I wish we could be around everyone all year round.
Our predestined best friend relatives bring joy, happiness, change.

The first, Ben married off and in love with Maddie, and an Ellie on the way.
Abi, only my age, ink-still-wet engaged to an army boy.
Graceanne in Sweden
Anna to go to Russia or Japan,
Joanna to South Africa or China.
Abi and Andrew back to school for Psychology
Marie for vocal performance to still-who-knows-where
Me, at EMU, for Social Work.

I am
*Loving the curious interest in my piercings
"What's that on your tongue?" --Cousin Katie
"You are so bad!" --Aunt Rachel
*Pondering and treasuring
this time, seconds of giggling, words of potency and beauty and love from my truth filled family's mouths.
*Jesus being a part of the family gathering.
--finding so much more depth in relationships this year
I hope it gets deeper and deeper as we get older.

God is good.

"Please follow your dreams," & Revolutionary Road

If you don't do what you want, follow your dreams, strive after your passions, you end up like April, in Revolutionary Road. Trying to get rid of one thing so significant that it killed you, in hopes of getting back the life that you once thought you had. The life April had in the story wasn't what she'd desired. She wanted to be an actress, she wanted to explore passions, get out of the house, as a parent, and do work, have a job. Her situation changed, her husband's job was promoted and she became pregnant, so they didn't leave for Paris. As the issues continued, there were affairs, declarations of hate, and then a failed self-abortion that led to her untimely death.
In my opinion, the reasons for her demise existed because she subdued herself behind her "I don't want to talk about it"'s. She lived uncomfortably in her little housewife role for too long. Want and desire become biased behind secondary thoughts and dreams as passions, and her real needs weren't met.
--This happens to anyone when we cover our core, empirical selves, with layers upon layers of "if"'s and "perhaps"'s and "someday"'s. These cause irritation to the deepest layer, weighing it down upon itself, until implosion. They make you fight about little things, they make you hold it all in, or spew it all out. They make you do crazy things (that you once thought were crazy yourself, but rationalized it enough that it became reasonable.) in efforts to reach your utopia.
So, instead of all those bad things,
pursue what you are passionate about
take baby steps toward completing your dreams
Don't hold it in or spew it out, have balance.
Talk about it.
Have a firm foundation.

I have a home (a home!)

This past semester has been epic.
Now I'm trying to imagine any part of my life not having significant moments in it, and since God isn't the boring type, I doubt there will be. Although not everyone will find it reading worthy, my life has had some significant adjustments since that August 31st starting gun was shot.
This shindig started with a declaration of social work: a promise to fight for justice, get riled up, sing and yell loudly, and throw pillows in digust at the world. This also brought about discussions of feminism, desire for change, and love for people who truly deserve to love others just like I do.
The party continued to thrive as I adjusted to living "off" campus, and in Maplewood, bonding with people who truly supported me. I ate lunch outside with Mila until it was too cold to do so, and we moved into Common Grounds (my third home). As relationships were stripped of pedestals and revealed their true colors from across the country, I submerged myself into an ocean of love: true supportive women and men who could listen to my cries of despair, of humiliation, of discouragement, and fill me with joy and laughter, help me pick myself up off of the carpetted floor, and encouraged me to write music.
Despair was changed to hope and passion for life as my feet tredded many miles in the right direction. With goals to reach, I left behind ideals of old and pursued local friendships, food, homes, justices. I sang music for residents at VMRC. I ate local, dumpster dived, and home made food on the floor of Maplewood lounge. I immersed myself with Walking Disciples ladies, Feminism, Take Back the Night, running, inner beauty, conversations that scared me, knitting, coffee, and music. I quit things that tired me, and started things that energized me. I let myself become intrigued by people, different perspectives, and now buds a different sort of relationship, again, though with several grains of salt added to the mix (as knowledge from previous experience comes to show). I got to skip happily across those darned  generation lines as I spent more and more time with my grandparents, inviting my people to come visit for dinner, to spend the night, or to have tea.
As the finals finished, the errands run, the last note on the piano was played, and a game of Twister was began, I knew of the validity of the relationships sprouted and bloomed. I have been surrounded by a BEAUTIFUL garden of flower friends at EMU. I have fallen in love with the people, the environment, the lifestyle, and community. I have a home.

Anonymous

I'm sick and tired of listening to this
I'm motivated, but there's so much injustice
And in our hearts, we're the cause of all this
We make this about us,
We give glory to ourselves

What does money matter?
Isn't it a number on a page?
Shouldn't we take care of
Our brothers in the cold?
Can you help my sister
Here she's struggling in the street
Give her Jesus, and put some shoes on her feet

It's not about me, take my face off of this
If you want representing, call on Jesus!
Remove my name, make it anonymous
All I want is for God to shine
Live God's shine, let God shine

No self, no lies, no bias, let God shine

Work study evaluations

so I'm normal. Not over the top amazing, not below the line horrid, on my work study evaluation. I'm a tutor for math. Not many people come. I hang out on Facebook during my hours here, or do homework.

Let's face it, tutoring math is not my passion. Just because I can figure it out and teach pretty well doesn't mean it's my calling in life. It doesn't mean that I like it. It means that work study is something I do.

I don't have to be passionate about tutoring math. If I was, that would be great--hey! I'd have a career path. But I do not. I am NOT passionate about tutoring math.

I do NOT experience flow while tutoring math.

So maybe I should play piano for my career. Or talk to people as my career.
Ha. What money would I make.
Entertainment is all about performance anyway.
Which I'm good at, but eventually I run out of steam.
Or the songs don't mean the same thing.
etcetc
yea.
that's what I think.

Simmer, and stir constantly

That's really where my head is right now.
I'm living at a new intensity, and it's spinning slowly. Everything I'm surrounded by--ideals, ideas, influences, perspectives--all these things are creating and defining new aspects of my life.
I'm starting to leave things behind, and to be okay with that.
I'm seeing that this change in my life is good, and God is good, and he'll lead me in the steps that I take.

I'm remaining independent, phenomenal woman, even as relationships take new, interesting turns.

I'm letting my music speak in my life, and letting God lead me to the chords that will take form in my life. I'm enjoying the challenge of stepping (even more) outside of the box.

I'm reaching goals I set months ago, and accepting where I have come with them. Even if the expectations are different than what is actually becoming of them, I think that the goals are still met with the acceptance of myself.

That's it for now.
No regrets.

Fire

Why are we so selfish as to deny someone the freedom to love? Why can we not even think that it could be an option? Why can I love those who do not give that freedom to others!
Why is the world in a place of oppression?
Why do people have to turn to drugs and sex and self mutilation to escape the pain that people LIKE US bring them into?
Why do we think we are right over all? That we are good over all? That we are superior?
Awhile back, I blogged about perfection, and how our society has defined perfection in some myth called 'normal'. This white heterosexual English speaking (with no accent) thin good looking person with a good education, a good paycheck, and a perfect nuclear family to go home to.
If we embrace diversity so, why can't we let people be diverse!
This world is diverse. There are so many people on this earth that if we were all white heterosexual English speaking thin good looking people with good education, paycheck and perfect nuclear family, then we'd all be clones!
God did not create us to be the same. He gave us free will instead. What a gift! God created me to be unique, to wear bunny freaking slippers around campus, to make weird facial expressions, and to love uninhibited.
I do not feel oppression for these things. No one judges me for my personality or my attire. I must fit somewhere into the Judeo Christian normal continuum.
Somewhere along the way, though, humans decided that difference is bad. That we can and should condemn those who do not fit into the blueprint that we have created. And we have hated them, or do not associate with them. We destroy their happiness by locking them within their very selves and cause them to assimilate into our heterosexual society.
Do you think Jesus condemned homosexuals? Jesus condemned hippocrites. What are we?
Jesus dined with sinners. He befriended them. How can we be Jesus to anyone if we avoid them?
I don't want to be angry and anyone in particular.
I think I'm angry the most at myself because I have been silent for so long. So many times I have heard the jokes and said nothing. I've laughed at the jokes. I've read the words out of context and judged.
I don't care if I am not theologically correct.
God does not condemn those he loves because they are the way that He created them!
God.
I've been clamping my jaw together for an hour because I can't put words to my anger. I don't want to put faces to my anger because it will be anger sorely directed. I want to support, and empower. I want to educate and open people's eyes, but I AM ONLY ONE PERSON.
I am not GOD.
I cannot change people's minds.
I cannot help them see the light.
I'm so frustrated in my helplessness to solve this problem.
I feel like the more words I say the more close minded people will become.
God.
The adrenaline that is rushing through my body has given me the hunger to seek justice. I see the injustice. How can I make justice? I feel hopeless.
I know I'm here for a reason. I know I"m in the right place because I have felt this emotion.
I need to scream and cry and throw things. I don't want to break things.
I desire to feel peace with what is going on in my mind, but at the same time, I know that feeling will not give me the drive to say what I need to say.
I need to pray.
The Holy Spirit is more than enough to speak through me. Or speak through my actions.
I was in a place of comfort, and I have been approached with this discomfort. It's digging through my skin and rubbing alcohol on it. I have this burning, itching desire to help, to support, to be real. To provide a place where real can be a reality for those who need it.
I feel sick and disgusted with the world.
And there is no one to pacify this. We shouldn't be pacified.

Stop being an onlooker.

How can we be silent?

Echoes in my brain.

It's so easy to dive in, leave everything behind.
But then look back and see all that I was missing.
Decisions.
I guess we know if they are right or wrong depending on how they pan out.
Mistakes.
I know I will make them along the way.
And I hate being on the someone's bad side.
But yay! That's life.
Accountability is a little uncomfortable.
But the depth and strength in relationships that come from it are so inviting.
Listen. Openly. Really.
And don't just think the world is against you. It may be trying to teach you something.
But I can hear it in a slight tone, and I can tell from the gestures you let escape your body what you really mean.
I don't want to offend, or belittle, or exclude, or condemn.
But I'm human.
Weak. Naive. Breakable. A Conquistadora.
I want to be honest, blunt, truthful.
I am imperfect. Selfish. A thief, when I take away what I once gave without inhibition.
This continuum is so complicated.

Teach me your Ways, O God,
And lead me in the way everlasting.

Beauty in Family

So it has been a little while since I have written about beauty, although I've been surrounded by it, and have been so enveloped in love that I couldn't really express what I'm thinking.

This past weekend was our Thanksgiving Break, and I got to spend it with my family! They came here, rather than me traveling to them. I felt so loved to be surrounded by them, their realness, their love, and getting to tease and eat really really good food.

One of the things that my family does when we are together is sing hymns together. The singing was so peaceful and fun. We came together, forgetting all the chaos and little fights of the day and lifted our four-part harmony (ish) voices to God in praise. My dad was trying to teach Austin and Tyreeq the bass line. Marie and I were alternating between the melody (loud and proud), the alto line (both of us not sure what exactly we were doing, and for me, sometimes just singing the harmony that I heard, but not reading the music.

"Jumping" picture
LtoR Anna, Me, Karis, Marie, Erin, Audrey

We played football together. I was a great kicker (indoor soccer skillz), and we combined all our assets to make our awesome team. People like Joe, who, although not fast, will scare the living daylights out of the other team's quarterback when he came charging.

We prepared and ate food together. I was peeling potatoes beside my great grandmother and my cousin. I snitched celery and cream cheese from my aunt and cousin.

I went running with my mom twice; she's supporting me in my training for my half marathon, and she's been really great about it.

At my grandpa's birthday celebration, we blew up balloons, some of us (not saying ANNAy names) used certain static electricity to stick them to the ceiling and succeeded, and influenced my younger cousins to do so also...

We ate Ethiopian food--ingera and wut--and Uncle Charlie's Amazing Macaroni and Cheese.

What I cherished the most out of all the time that I had with my family was the conversations that I was able to have with people. Audrey was my roomie for a couple of nights in my grandparent's house, which was truly fun for me. I got to have a conversation with my great Grandma Souder, and promised to write her. I had a good time talking with my Grandma Peg while she was preparing food on Wednesday before everyone got there. We were bonding, as I was multitasking. . .

It was amazing to see my younger sister and my parents, and I couldn't stop hugging them. That's one of the ways that people have changed me here at EMU. I'm much more of a hugging person now than I was. But here we are so open to hug and to love openly then of course I should reciprocate onto my family, whom I have known longer and loved longer.

There was so much laughter. On Saturday night, we played the game, things, and after that, I think we all felt good and de-stressed. Things you shouldn't do on your honeymoon: binge on habenero peppers, Mennonite Your way, skinny dip in an arctic pool, drink too much apple cider *gurgle*
Things you shouldn't title a children's book: "Black women's hair", "Harold Richard gets ferocious ferocious", "The Unbuttoned Shirt", "Hate and Kill your Neighbor", "How to steal from your mom's purse and get away from it", "The Day Your Parents Got Cancer", & "When Mommy and Daddy Don't Love you Anymore."

Nyquil from Anna is love. Coming and meeting my new friend right before they left was love. Affirming comments about my music is love.

And for me love = beauty. I can't deny it.

Vending Machine

This song is about men who objectify women.
It is awesome.

Verse One:
You are the type of person who makes me regret
Being unique today.
You look me over up and down and then tell me I'm pretty
Though "complimenting" on my looks you accentuate my body
You take away my humanity when you wander you mind away

Prechorus:
I'm only the cheap jewels in your treasure box
You want my heart to be a cheap, breakable lock
So that you can enter in and tempt me with seduction
But leave like before you began, with out me name
I was just another body you claimed

Chorus:
I'm demanding equality
For freedom from super-sexuality
My beauty is more than a picture taken
Don't manipulate my God-given brain
I am beauty and also intelligence
Why do you decide to choose
Who I am like a vending machine?
I am a human being!

Verse Two:
You treat me like junk food, gobble me up and throw away the memory
Your single set mind makes you even more hungry
For you cheap rush of dopamine
You make me a means to an end
Of sexuality you can't stop,
At least, you've always thought

Watching Chick Flicks and REALITY

So this past semester has had a lot of homework, and so I haven't had any time to watch movies. I can name all the movies that I have sat completely through. King Arthur, Pocahauntas, and most recently, tonight, Bride and Prejudice.


I would like to point out that romance in movies isn't real life. Because the media influences our thoughts and processes, many people think of romance, relationships, and marriage like the way that actors portray it, which is the way they are asked to portray it by the script & the writers, which is influenced by who knows what.
Outtakes show us that people are acting, that they make mistakes, and that they sometimes have a bit of a hard time trying to act out something  If people acted like this in real life, there wouldn't be any outtakes because it would come naturally to them. They wouldn't need a script. 
Reality has something called free will, and with that free will, people live independently from the stereotypes. 
Unfortunately, the media has a deeper grip than we can loosen just by reading these words. It is a harsh truth. To live counter cultural, one almost has to reject the idea of romance. 


But how can we reject romance? I have a hard time with that. I like our culture's characteristics for "dating and relationships". I would love to receive flowers, and be asked on a date where we dress up like we're visiting our grandparent's church, and we sit at a table, order nice food, and drink nice drinks late into the night, learning about each other. I would love to spend time with someone, dancing the night away, or walking beside a river, or shopping at the mall, taking silly pictures together. 

"Silly Picture"

These ideas come from somewhere. Somewhere along the way, I was told that to have a fun, romantic relationship was to do these things. Maybe it was the novels I read, maybe it was the movies I watched, but either way, I felt like I was taught that someday I would be married, and the world would "LIVE HAPPILY FREAKING AFTER." Who freaking painted that picture? As I continue to look at the world around me and watch people as they build relationships, get engaged, get married, start a family, I see that they also have other things that are building momentum in their lives: finish high school, go to college, graduate, go to grad school, get a good job. Or also, rent an apartment, live independently, buy a house. Or, plant a garden, raise chickens, get a cow, go buy a barn. These are other things that we can do with our lives. Each of us has a different path. Marriage may or may not be a part of it, and if it is, that's great. If it's not, then that's great too! 

Because of society's interpretation of romance, I had high expectations for relationships. They had to work out. There had to be a certain amount of effort put into the relationship to label it as a "relationship." I think a lot of people put expectations into their relationships. But because we all have free will, how could any of these expectations be met as we expected, unless someone was following the script written by the expecter. There's also the agony of things like "breaking up" or expressing that you aren't in love or whatever. There's almost some stigma for telling how you really feel, because there's so much of an expectation (see, there it is again) that you should be in love, and if you aren't in love, you should get in love. I think communication is so much more important. Be frank, dangit. I'm not sure how I feel about you. If a guy said that to me, props to him.

Since I was a little girl, I always thought that marriage was the epic step that I was going to take. Once I found my "true Love" the fire was going to be lit, and my life was never going to be the same. The veil would (literally) be lifted to my whole new world. Because I wanted this idea of marriage so bad, I was ready to look into the eyes of anyone who swore they loved me and think that I was going to be with them forever. To say that this semester has been one of epic change might be an understatement, because I went from, "I found the one--we're getting engaged soon! Wait until you meet him!" to, "He never really was in love with me, and it's over," and that really redrew the entire thought of true love for me. 

Or the idea of romance.  One can be romantic, one can be a friend, one can be a lover. Does one have to be in love to have true love? What is true love? Is true love that kind of love that you fall into? (because if it is, then I've fallen into true love a couple times.) If true love is that type of love, then what does it mean to fall in love? What does it mean be in a relationship? All these things are defined by the society around me, so how do I make them my own?

Right now, I'm "married" to two other women. I lived with them for the first half of the semester, and now, and soon, we will be starting our long distance relationship. Though this is a joke; I am not, in fact, a bisexual polygamist, it is what I need right now. They are my closest friends, and I hold to them, laugh with them, cry with them (sometimes after laughing), and we care for each other. We are all growing alike. We all carry our passion on our sleeve. Spending time with these girls, eating, snuggling, laughing, talking, coloring, I have grown so much in myself, and what I need to "be".

So What is love? 

(baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more)

Love is what lifts us up where we belong. 

"Love it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be
There is a design, an alignment, a cry
Of my heart to see,
The beauty of love as it was made to be"

--Mumford and Sons, "Sigh No More"

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

 ⁸ Love never fails."
1 Corinthians 13: 4-8a

So what love is, who love is with, in reality, in relationships, sometimes love hurts. Sometimes those who love you do hurt you, but they still love you. Sometimes true love means letting go and moving on. Maybe true love happens many times in a life time, and you can fall into true love with many people at the same time. Maybe that's how God feels about us. 

Today is TO WRITE LOVE ON HER ARMS day

Today I represent hope beauty for those who look in the mirror and feel hate toward their entire person so much so that they hurt themselves.
I,We, She, He, They, We desire love so much that we think we can only earn it, and only from other people. Love is not earned. Love is given, love is a gift. Love is unconditional, so no matter what you look like, that means the love is equal. Love is equal rights. Love is so blind that people who look different, love different are LOVED.
We receive love from others, this is true. This love can only temporarily sustain us. This love can seem absent when our lovers are absent. We need to love ourselves. This is a love that is sustained through our lives. We maintain self-love by resting, by exercising, by emotionalizing. Taking time to be spiritual, thoughtful, and seeking balance is a way to pursue self-love. Taking care of yourself is loving yourself.
Our creator is heaven also loves us, with more unconditional mercy than we think we deserve. Where other people's love is finitely sustained, Holy Spirit's love is infinite, and keeps on giving.
When we finally love ourselves, and stop criticizing the "imperfections" that society tries to load upon us, we see the beauty that echos from our lips each time we can be real with other people. We express our confidence, subtly or loud and proud, and not care what other people think. Then we let our beauty blind people.
Overcoming anything is a struggle. Lack of self-love makes one have no drive to do anything; it makes life slavery. The idea of writing LOVE on her arms is to overcome Self-hate with self-love. Even though the people who are writing LOVE on their arms might not have had the struggles that people who cut themselves have, and they cannot provide the love that each person is searching for, they can support, they will support, and they will love.
I will Love like there is no tomorrow (will you?). There might not be, you know.

Beauty in Song

I find that one of the ways that I can show my own beauty is through singing and through writing music. When I got a chance to play "light the silence" for this year's Take Back the Night chapel and coffeehouse, I felt blessed to express inspiration for those who needed it.

I was also blessed by a fellow student, with an invitation to join one of the bands on campus. It turned out to be very beneficial and fun for me, and we have had two performances--one for chapel, and one for Dialogue On Race and Diversity Worship Night. I got to play three of my own songs at the beginning of this event as well.

This beauty thing is for me, but it's not for me as well. Although I would say that within music, my beauty is blooming for others to see, I wouldn't say that it is something that I am unconfident in. And although I need growth in the area, as sometime in the future I will be able to record and have a CD or my music, and there is a lot of work in that, I know that this project and idea is not all about me. Although everyone needs certain levels of empowerment, I know I'm one that needs less in comparison to others.

So with that disclaimer, the truth in all of this is that I WANT to empower others to embrace their own beauty in individuality, in confidence. Part of this is recreating beauty. Knowing that I am an individual makes it impossible for me to redefine beauty by myself. Beauty is different in every person. Where some people are confident in clothes and in things they have to say, others carry their beauty in their art work, in their food justice. Others carry their beauty in their beautiful unwashed hair. Beauty is confidence. Beauty is laughing so hard you cry (or snort).

As we recreate beauty, what makes you your beautiful self? What's striking and individual about you that you see about yourself and makes you overflow with love for whatever you love?

Here's "reclaiming beauty"

It's just genetics
Combinations of chemicals
That create who we see
This makes me unique
No one else
Carries elements like me

Then somewhere I lost me
Under masks I wear
Wanting to please Society
We've molded ourselves
To their blueprint for beauty

I want to bring back beauty
Like birds singing
Like leaves tinged by sunset sky
I want to see individuality
Confidence overflowing
I want acceptance for who I am
Even with "said" imperfections
I was created woman
Don't underestimate me
This is real beauty

It's just genetics
Combinations of chemicals that create
Who you see
This makes you unique
No one else
Carries elements like you

Then somewhere you lost you

Under masks you wear

Wanting to please Society

We've molded ourselves

To their blueprint for beauty

Women made into mannequins by this media

Plastic-coated shiny perfect

Covered in makeup

Just sexy and helpless

How could we call this 

beauty??

What is strength, depth, intelligence

Aren't we perseverance, endurance

Confidence over fashion sense
Individuality--it is beauty.

"Closemindedness"

Because of recent interactions with people who are slightly more conservative than ourselves, there have been several discussions of frustrations with said people. Their ideas seem so constrictive and don't seem like they are beneficial. This frustrates me especially, because I am pro social justice, and I see how the problem can be solved. But instead of seeing how the problem can be solved my way, they only see their way. Sometimes I feel like the subject that we discuss are only based on one thing--one story, or book--that causes their opinion to lean one way. I am so frustrated with this, because I have experienced so much, and the information that I understand has not been spoon-fed to me--I've seen it with my own eyes, and tasted it with my own tongue.
When a person comes to the table (literally. We eat in the caf. They come to the table), with their single story, and argues their point until they are blue in the face, and I get frustrated. It's not just because I'm liberal. To a point, I can have civil conversations with conservatives. I know that people who are conservative are people too, human, and are imperfect, as I am also. And so when I start getting annoyed, I like to draw the conversation out of the concepts, and back into the reality and talk about things that we can agree on. I understand we will have to reach a point where we agree to disagree. This will happen.
But the true challenge comes to mind when I start talking to someone who doesn't know but their one experience--their one perspective. I find myself almost unable to listen to them, because of my life experiences. I know the answer; it's not what they are describing, so I don't listen to the words that they are saying. I label them. "Closeminded." I know that they won't listen to what I say, s I have to take my opinion and throw it out the window, because I cannot convince them of any word that I say. They don't listen to a single word coming out of my mouth when they find out that I am liberal.
Do we liberals think that we are better than conservatives? Of course.
Do those conservatives think they are better than liberals? Yep.
Last night, I came home from band practice and we started talking about talking to conservative people. One of us used the term "Close minded," and then Meg or Bekah said something like "I don't like that term. Saying close minded is close minded."
Instead of talking about the fact that we are liberal or conservative, we need to talk about how we can stop desensitizing people when we talk about them. We can talk about our issues, but we don't want to lose the importance of the issues. We can argue until we are blue in the face about how we are going to feed the hungry, but at the end of the argument, they are still hungry. We can't let the issue lose the face.

So the approach we need to take is to work towards the goal of egalitarianism. Maybe we need to approach things after trying to define goals. Maybe we shouldn't let ourselves become emotional or competitive, and instead become listeners and serve each other. We need to find a way to pull ourselves together despite our differences and meet in the middle. We can't get anywhere if we are pulling the rope in opposite directions.

Making the Statement

So most of you don't have an idea of what I've been doing this semester as far as housing goes--I've been "living" with my grandparents and spending a "couple nights a week" in Maplewood, with my roommates Bekah and Meg. We decided, after my project projection, and Bekah's suggested suggestion that we should represent beauty at it's different levels. One would represent the beauty the world love, one would represent the beauty that is biblical, and one would represent inner beauty. Although I said that I would represent Worldly Beauty, Bekah insisted that I represent Inner Beauty, as that is part of my project, and that she represent Worldly beauty.
We were dressing up for the EMU Fall Festival, which was at Parkwoods Cabin, and we started Saturday after lunch. Bekah and I were making bread, and so we went shopping for pans, stopped at my sister's house for some clothing (for our costumes), and then while we were making the bread, we worked on Bekah's hair. I straightened it, Amy did her nails, and Jamila did her toes. We searched high and low for a mini skirt for Bekah to wear, and finally decided on one from Anna on the third floor, and my teal shiny top. We borrowed earrings from Katherine, and then Bekah had to shave her legs, borrowing stuff from Crystal. Then we had to do makeup. When Bekah was done, we walked up to Jamila's room and got name tags. It took a long time to get Bekah ready, while we were doing this, I kept feeling like we were hiding who she was and making her look like every other girl in Harrisonburg going to a bar. We made her like everyone else--not unique and almost boring.
Meg wore her Tivas, a djellaba, a black scarf over her hair, and made an 'X' over her mouth, to represent that women are to be silent, women are to have their head covered, and women are to avoid showing off their bodies. She even wore jeans, although we looked up that women weren't supposed to wear men's clothing, it looked better, and when she thought about rolling up her jeans so that we couldn't see them, she said, "but my legs are hairy."
I said, "But I love you the way you are."
And so was the battle of this beauty. To represent the Worldly beauty, we had to cover up the Bekah that we all love. We took time to hide and take away 'imperfections' and made her stare at herself in a mirror, challenged to make her lips look more pouty by wearing lipgloss, to scrutinize about her eyebrows long enough to need to pluck some hairs, and to notice some unruly hairs that weren't straight. So much time was taken, to cover her up.
With Meg, it wasn't that we were covering her up. We were physically covering her up, but she could still be Meg until the 'X' was put over her lips. Because of the media we used (liquid eyeliner) she couldn't smile for fear that it would crack, and so it inhibited her from being who she really was. When we were being silly, she couldn't laugh along, or she couldn't smile while laughing.
both Bekah and Meg were costumed by physicality, and in doing so, also costumed their personalities.
All of this time, I was already in my costume. :)
Because I represented inner beauty, I was to represent myself, and I did so with great vigor. I wore a green and brown patterned dress with my pink jacket and teal scarf over it. Jamila half-cornrowed my hair, and then I braided it some more, as that is one of the things that I think is most beautiful about myself--that I can braid my hair and wearing it braided. As a finishing touch, I wore my bunny slippers, which have been making their debut for the past week since I got back from Fall Break.
So then, we went with a Pirate, a Native American, and Cleopatra herself to the Fall Festival.
We definitely got good reactions. People had to ask what we were, so we explained ourselves. Though people could see what we had done to decorate ourselves, they had no idea of the process that it took to get there, the emotional weariness that each of us carried--me for watching Bekah disappear and Meg become inhibited, and also the time it took to reach that point.
There was a costume contest, and The "Worldly Beauties (OH CODY!)" and Cleopatra won (Jamila looked FREAKING awesome, and even cut her hair for the role). Bekah and I carved pumpkins, both of them saying something--mine said, "In Her Beauty" and Bekah's said, "A Sad Story Be." I think we were both feeling our costumes.
We all learned great things about this project, and as I continue to write about my experimence with expressing inner beauty, there will be reflections of this experiment/statement.

Suicide=Beauty Destroyed

I saw a post on Facebook a couple of days ago that really made me feel. In my high school's hometown, a freshman had committed suicide. A girl who was fourteen years old hung herself. I cannot take the emotion. Where were her friends? Why couldn't she share with them what was going on inside? Where were the adults in her life to mentor her and love her? Where was God in this?

All I could see when I went to the Memorial group that was created for her as she Rests In Peace, was such a beautiful girl. Why could she not see it? Was she too focused on what other people would say to her to get that she was beautiful in the way that she carried herself, in the way that she was unique to this planet?

Why does it seem like high school is the place that makes us all conform to this heart breaking lifestyle of beauty? Why do girls wake up every morning and spend an hour grooming, and more time later, just so they look good, just so that they can get the second glance, or look like the photoshopped girl in the magazine. Why do girls have to starve themselves to feel like they are thin enough to be dated by those high school boys whose hormones and environmental shaping only make them think that the skinnier the better, the bigger breasts the better, the bigger, shinier hair the better?

Why don't girls make themselves displays of their hearts instead, displays of who they are in their innermost thoughts, letting their fears, and vulnerabilities slip away. Why can't we tell the world that what we see that is different inside is a blessing not a curse? It took, and continues to take time--years--for me to accept myself, and I didn't even have it the worst.

Suicide is a permanent end to a temporary problem. What we see as imperfections now isn't, but we don't bloom to see it until it's too late, we've already made the decision to let go and screw the world. People who try to commit suicide and then choose not to at the end have a long way to go, but they will reach happiness with who they are what they have.

God, may you give this beauty's family peace in this time as they struggle to find it. Hold them all close to you. May we as your people, not be blind to those with pain, and be able to serve them as they need us. Let it be so.

Feminism and BeautyinGrace

Grace and Katherine, the beautiful feminists

Why feminism?

On Monday, I was sitting in Common Grounds with two couch-fulls of lovely ladies, and my friend Katherine, already declared, asked me if I was a feminist, and Mila also shared her tastefulness in the topic.

I gave quite the hesitation--I'm scared of stigma--then said, "Well, maybe."

Given looks of astonishment, I gave in, "Okay, yes, I am! I just don't like the stigma."

I then went on later to say, "You know, I think my dad is a feminist," because he's always been all about my sisters and I taking on whatever came our way.

The funny part is that I went on declaring it for the rest of the day, to anyone who I spoke to about political issues, or just in conversation with Bekah and Meg, later in the day.

Feminism and Beauty:

I think it's important to establish the connection between feminism and beauty. Feminism, with one of the ideas being to give women their rights, also asks for the right of women to define their own beauty. Thus, it is very important for me to define myself as a feminist. I declare that women's beauty is unique, not what oppressive media (and some men) make it to be, and that it doesn't need someone else to say anything for it to be beautiful. If the wind blows in the forest, but no one hears it, did it move through the forest?

Of course. Part of women being beautiful is that almost nothing needs to be said. Beauty exists in the existence of feminism, in the ideals, the attitudes, the confidence, and all of these aspects are beauty. Someone could be blind and deaf and still be completely beautiful, though no one would ever clarify it for them, as long as they believed it, it would be true. 

This comes to my own unique beauty. It's very important that I declare myself to be a feminist (partially because people already assumed it was so), and also because it declares that I am more radical than the beauty that society tries to claim of me. 

Today was a day to do gracebeauty, not societybeauty. So Grace brightened her eyes, braided her hair in a circle, and wore bunny slippers to class, even though it rained. 

Goal today: go run, because it makes me feel so much better than a compliment from a guy telling me that I'm completely beautiful. Running brings out a confidence of capable dreams, and endurance and possibilities. What's great is that today I also chose to wear sweats and a sports bra. And get my picture taken for the Shen (school yearbook). I care about my unique beauty that much. People who get that yearbook will remember me as the girl with the interesting slippers, the runner, the braided hair and the bright eyes. 

I am the Plant in the Room [Perfect (2)]

Grace + "Beauty"

Last year in the class Ruling Ideas, Dr. Judy Mullet talked about the connection between fundraising, and having a plant in the room. Studies show that if there is some sort of foilage in the room when one is trying to raise money for something, a person is likely to be more generous. In essence, the plant is the manipulator.

Today was the first day of experimence (experiment and experience). Life is an experimence in itself, if we choose to look at our experiences and let our observations be so. However, today became the first day of a drive to change society's beauty standards. Is it a transformation? Is it a decision to not waste time in front of a mirror? I've already done these things today. I've transformed myself into someone that the culture would think of as beautiful.

The idea was to answer anyone who asked, "What's the occasion?"
"I wanted men to notice me today."

[Of course, I was then asked that particular question by a professor, and I chickened out.]

But why don't we instead ask a different question? There's nothing wrong with wearing make up for no reason, [although if has become a habit, then perhaps the habit needs to be rethought.]

But why not ask a question every time someone exhibits the confidence that creates their unique beauty?
"What's making you so beautiful (or unique, or confident, or you) today?"

That was tangenial. (meaning: a tangent)

Today started out as sort of an experimence to see if I would be able to manipulate men to notice my beauty by way of curlies and eye shadow. It makes me feel bad. I don't want people to think that I was doing it for attention. To a point I was, but it was also to make a point. Point: Make up and hair that's "done" do define "beauty". At least by the culture's standards. Or makeup and hair is synonymous with deserving a verbal response by those of the male species. By our culture's standards.

Can I redefine this beauty? I want to exhibit the beauty that I see all around me in each woman and man on this campus that is unique and shows an uninhibited beauty in each person.

I don't want beauty to make people rip themselves apart. I want people to look at themselves, see their own beauty, see their own gifts, and glue it all together, and let the cup of confidence and self-love overflow.

I'm starting this experimence with the opposite. And I'm going to transition from this society standard to the beauty that I feel I exhibit the most from myself.

"Watch" me as I go from externally motivated and extrinsic beauty to internal motivated and intrinsic beauty. [Watch is in quotations, because not all beauty is seen.]

How do you define your internal beauty?
What are society's standards that you feel required to navigate and why?

Mini Transition

I could get used to being at home.
In fact, I did. But I have come back to school.
Those eight hour LONG car rides really wear me out. Being dehydrated & having caffeine crashes--getting back just in time to study for an Elroy Exam (defn: Epic essays, and if missing any piece of information from the question, points docked off), which requires hours of meaningless studying because almost none of it is on the exam.
Then there were epic pains in the abdomen in combination with not having enough time to get coffee for the morning, and I was off to school to dread myself through the actual exam. Going in kicking and screaming calls for kicking and screaming moments mid-question 1, mid question 4, and mid question 5.
Then it was over, and I was almost compulsive with hug needs and my inability to have a happy mood.
Tim, an angel, provided some Tylenol (Extra Strength) during Exploring Social Work, where I also found out my mid-term was not in vain (93% A).
Then Mila and I (meaning: just me) went to get the drugs for the day. Now, two cups of coffee and an ounce of chocolate covered espresso beans later, I am functioning enough to smile at people.

I just hate the feeling of putting half of my classes on the back burner because I have needy professors. How on earth does everyone else handle getting through Social Stratification and Social Welfare history and Philosophy? Will next semester be easier? Maybe. I think that idea that I can count (on three and a half fingers) how many semesters of this I have left certainly helps.
But then where does life lead me? I used to think I had all this together, not now the world is my whetstone (is that the quote?). I think it would be more appropriate to say that the world is my sandstone. It's easier to shape. (and as I was thinking of the right rock, manure pile went through my head) The Whetstone just lights the fire. What do I do with my life?? Maybe I'll grow a garden and water it with my tears. Maybe I'll sing a song and cause someone to cry. Maybe I'll change the world with my college education. But maybe the world will change me because I spent all this time getting a college education.

I want more. I want less. I want someone. I want no one. I want no more. I want everything. I desire nothing. I'm broken. I'm mended. I'm getting there. Thus goes the wave of grace.

Perfect (1)

We think of things that we have that aren't perfect, making the world a negative trunk with occasional bump of positivity. We can paint this painting of perfection, but we cannot attain it. It is only something that we look upon and wish that we can be. In physical images, women reach for the perfection of beauty, a beauty designed by advertisements, Photoshop, and makeup. This drive for perfection pokes bones through skin, and causes fear and hate. It creates a dread to stare at the image that is created in a reflection, it creates criticism of every cell that defaces the smoothness of perfect. It creates 'ugly.'
I just want to grab this beauty and wring it's neck. Just as perfect love should cast out fear, perfect beauty should cast out ugly. There is nothing that makes this image rotten. Instead of looking in the mirror and seeing all that is imperfect, don't look for imperfection. Look at perfection. Look at what already exists. God created each of us perfect in His image. That image is unique in each of us. God shines differently in each of us. He's so diverse, he would create people big and small, with slight facial features, and sharp ones, with tiny eyes, with big ones. You are perfect. Accept that perfection. Accept that no one has the perfection that you have. If you try to be someone else, of course you are going to feel imperfect--you cannot become them. And if you try, you will continue to feel like you will never reach that point. Because you won't-- you can't.
I want you to remove the word ugly from your vocabulary. It is lethal for your health. Every time I say the word ugly, it connotates to not wanted, unloved, broken, useless. If we call our bodies ugly, we don't want them. We instead want someone else's, and we can't have theirs. If we want the ideal body, whose body are we stealing to replace ours?
What is 'ugly'?
Is 'ugly' not putting on makeup in the morning?
Is 'ugly' not having enough time to exercise?
Is 'ugly' feeling inadequate and incapable?
Whatever ugly means to you, whether it's a weakness or a feeling of failure in a reflection, free that feeling. Put it out in the open. Then, do the unthinkable. Take that ugly thing, and call it beautiful. Not the beauty that society creates. That beauty doesn't exist anymore. It has no substance. Though the media surrounds you, it is NOT you. You cannot become the media. You cannot be created by the media. You create yourself. And what you create of yourself is beautiful. Every part that is unique, and worth something. It is part of the whole of you. It is loved by God and should be loved by you. You need it and you want it. Your body is what your body is.
What's to make better when there's nothing wrong with you?
Perfection is looking at your reflection and realizing that you aren't being deceived by society's lies anymore.

The Lyrics that Pour from my mind

This is me processing what's been the past, and what is now. I know that there's good in the bad things that have happened to me, and that's the good thing.

Everywhere I look I see you

In faces of friends Potentials

And it causes me To not forget

Memories Of who we were

What we had Or what I thought

We had

Dreams, an attempt for reality failed

My mind is thrown away

That my reality can make me stronger

Moving on I can stand longer

The distance seems so great

But every stride I take

Hurdles me closer to 

Finding peace in what we made

I am strength in strength

This love that surrounds me

Carries me further than I could see

I'm realizing reality

I made vulnerablity comfortably fit

When I was around you

I jumped in with nothing

Didn't know you were drowning

You could have told me that.

Hard Times

It's hard to take eighteen credits.
And have work-study, and be scattered because you actually live off-campus.
And to be really social.
And to have your life reshifted--it seems like everything hard is happening all at once.
But at least I know that I can graduate the Spring after next.

I have exams tomorrow,
In two different kinds of psychology over all types of information.
All I can think about is the music that I wrote today, and
The songs that I accidently turned on
When memories became captivating and disheartening
And my heart weeped for the times that were
Though they were dishonest
And my mind remembered what I thought was real,
And to perceive it as not is almost like grinding me twice.

Music is the emotion that I can't express
Or that I repress
Because I am so wanting to be proactive that I can't even contemplate the idea
All I want to be is busy so that I don't have to think about what I am really thinking
Maybe taking a short moment to put a tiny abridged piece of it into a song,
Molded until it suits something appropriate from someone's ears.
But that's hard. I can't let out all these emotions completely.

And I'm so sore and tired. My body is exhausted. I want to run more, I need to run more, but
somehow I can't.
I want to be motivated to do the work that I have set before myself.

I hate looking back on everything before me and thinking that it was easier, simpler.
It used to be looking back to high school, and how that was simple.
But now I'm looking back at my spring semester in DC, and thinking, oh, wouldn't it be nice to be back there, it was so much easier then.
I long for these times to be easier. Easy will come.
I got to get over the hump first.

A New Era

I am an evolving interactive soul, functioning in consistency with those around me, keeping up, sometimes going ahead, but about a week ago my world got tumbled. And the rain, which was subtle before, started pouring down, and it seemed like the avalanche would overcome and smother me. This is unsolicited transition. My intentions, my inspirations, my dreams have been tossed about in the hurricane of "I love you, but I was never in love with you."But I didn't go to bed that night alone. I was instead surrounded by friends, hugs, support, knowledge, wisdom, love, and God and that amazing peace of his. The first few days were very hard. Every moment that I take to review my life to this point causes my mind to crumble under the swift blow that it wasn't real, for me, that is.
I decided to train for a half marathon to work towards moving on. The running is great--I feel very empowered, and motivated. I'm not exercising to lose weight, but to instead reach a goal, and that motivates me all the more. Yesterday I did a weight lifting workout in the earlier afternoon, abut didn't feel as emotionally fit as I would have desired, and when I went to talk it out in Bekah's room later, I decided to go for a run-again. So Ellie and I ran, and we ranted.
I got angry for the first time yesterday, while I was lifting. It was the perfect time to get angry, but it's not as healthy when the words that make you angry are a song that is playing over and over in your head.
"It's not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really f-ed it up this time
Didn't I, dear?"
And yes, it really did screw up everything. Until I really look at what I was truly feeling about the big picture--the idea of compromising some of my dreams, and feeling tied to one particular place. It's liberating, and constricting at the same time. I haven't let go yet, and I know that you don't just fall out of love with someone right away.
One of the hardest parts is that I am in school right now, and studying involves a lot of time in my head. So as Aly says, I'm on the run, always doing doing going going. When I sit down and study, if I'm by myself, it all comes back--the moments, the memories. It helps to take the time to take care of myself, and go play the piano somewhere that no one else is, so that I am unconscious of those who listen, and can just play, and figure out what my mind is doing.
I am working through this. Where my mind is does matter. So I'm working toward that.
"If sinful nature controls your mind, there is death. But if the Holy Spirit controls your mind, there is life and peace." Romans 8:6

Bringing Light to the Silence

Take Back the Night is a weeklong event that EMU takes part in during the school year. It's in recognition of those who have been sexually abused, and bringing openness and inviting people to talk about what has happened to them.

I decided to be on the Take Back the Night chapel committee for this year. I wasn't really sure what role I was going to take, for I originally wanted to be a part of the sidewalk chalk committee. That was fun for me last year. But Bekah was excited about the idea, so I joined. Later on in the week, I was thinking about how it would be awesome if I could write a song about the theme, Bringing Light to the Silence.

A couple of days ago, I was feeling overwhelmed by schoolwork and life, and I wrote these lyrics. I put melody to them yesterday. I wish I could post a recording, but no performance has been perfect yet, and nowhere near a microphone. Thus, here are my lyrics.

These echoing words aren't love.
I'm being taunted by my own thoughts.
The world doesn't need more pain.
I'm just repeating what's already been said.

Being broken can be mended
But my pieces have been lost along the way.
I'm not together the same
But only I notice I'm missing.

There's light on these dark walls,
And as I pray each day it's lighter.
And there are rainbows slipping through
The prisms I carry inside.
The promises I feel are real
They crumble the brokenness I felt
And my sould won't rock to sleep at night
With it's lips sown shut.
It's bringing light (and life and sound and song)
To this silence.

It all seemed to make sense until I popped my blister.

Here I am at EMU studying my ass off.
For those of you who don't know, I'm taking 18 credits, including two psych classes and four social work classes. All of these things are great. I'm learning a lot, but there's some intense reading that I have to do, and all of these assignments and quizzes that are crowding my schedule as I start the second half of the second week.
I'm wondering if I can do it.
New York took a lot out of me. I made great friends, but I almost feel like I burned out. There was too much to think about, too much to do, and I'm not a work-a-holic, nor was I used to that lifestyle, and it's been a struggle for me to be in three different places during August. But now I'm back at EMU, and I'm challenged by my capacity to study, to meet professor's expectations. I don't want to fail. I feel like I'm approaching failure with every step, that each day in class I come, not knowing if I forgot some reading or assignment.
 I feel like I'm unprepared to handle the requirements that are before me. I hold high expectations for myself.
 I should be able to handle eighteen credits and Jazz Ensemble. But I didn't think that upper level classes would make me feel like I wasn't every finished.
I should be able to feel adequate about commuting and being social enough at school. But I always feel the pressure of being with people and not studying, and wondering if it's necessary to study then.
I should be able to walk around with the confidence I carried with me. But I lost that confidence this summer. It slipped out of my fist.
I should feel like music is something that I can build a career with. But where is the door of opportunity swinging open? Who is going to hear one song that I've written and say, "Wow. That girl needs to record with my company," and sweep me off my feet to a wondrous weighted eighty-eight key keyboard and tell me to write my story until those keys. Who wants to hear that story? Am I new, fresh, and relevant?
Should I still pursue music?
My dear friend Christa told me that I could do both school/Social work and music. But I don't know if I can. I'm driven by the thought that I cannot serve two masters.
Am I serving two masters?
And where am I letting God into all this?
Am I serving three masters?
All I feel is that I cannot figure out who I am because I lost part of who I am when I couldn't feel at home in a place where I was staying. I lost part of what I strived to be when I had to put a face on for fear or angering or disappointing people.
What is the good of reading something if I don't even take it in the first time, or the second time?
I'm brought back to humanity and humility when I taste the bitter taste, or is it the blood, of failure. It takes pieces of me.

The only person that I need to worry about disappointing is. . . is there anyone?
I can only learn from what I am incapable of.
What is failure? a lack of success. Who defines success?

When someone pulls the chair out from under my weak routine and lands me on my butt, again, here I am. Surprised, and tears pour out like they have been waiting to, but I hadn't recognized. These tears come when something dear to me is adjusted. That's all is takes. And I've been slightly ruptured, like the blisters I was nervously popping on my feet, as tears rolled down my face, listening to Zach tell me to ride it out and if I fail, at least I will know how not to do it next time.

I must be adjusting
Because I'm scattered like leaves falling
Down, pitter patter like rain.
I'm dancing spinning round and round
Faster, does the time slow
Enough to not stumble out of my mind?

Is school too hard for me right now?

Day One, Round Two :)

I should read through last year's blog about the first day at EMU. I can guarantee that though I may not have said it, I was intimidated and slightly scared. It's definitely bizarre to think that I'm starting to feel like I've got the hang of EMU, and there isn't anything, really, that surprises me. If I redid last year, I would have not take all these science classes right away. I would have taken things that sounded fun and interesting, not efficient, and I would have not declared my major right away, so to not feel like I was going to explode. I would have tried to do a fun work study job, like being a barista at Common Grounds. I would have been more involved in clubs.

So now I'm starting my second year at EMU, slightly more complicated than I want it to be--with a senior status and explaining myself, and living off campus--I'm starting to feel at home here in the basement of my grandparent's house. Although I have not decorated yet, I know that it's somewhere in the days ahead. I have some assignments of reading that I would like to get to, but it's important to realize where I am with things first, I think.

I got distracted in the morning from having contact with people, and left a little late for my walk over to EMU. Luckily, Social Stratification, my first class, was located in the library, and the closest building to my grandparent's house. I arrived while they were taking attendance, so I was not late. I knew a couple people in the room, two who would have been hall mates, and one who I have connections in NY with. The seventy-five minutes sped by, as we were learning about social inequality, learned in by two Youtube clips, and then everyone presenting from their own small group discussions about the things that were a part of the second clip. Then I had my break for lunch. I had packed my lunch, and was afraid that there would be no one to sit with to eat, when I saw a friend from my days of Biology in the same place. I sat, ate, and talked with her while we had our break. That was a blessing. I went to go wash out my dishes, and I saw my aunt, who works in the human resources department. I gave her a hug, and she told me that great grandpa Engle had just passed away this morning. He was ninety-seven.
That was news, but as time had passed earlier this year, there was a sense that it was going to happen soon, and so it wasn't a great surprise.

I located the classroom for my second class of the day, and then attended it. Race and Gender sounds very interesting, and I cannot wait to see where this class goes. We have some fun assignments ahead of us. I sat with Sanj, Rose (who I had met in Jess' apartment), Jamila, and a girl that was in the Social Work line when I was getting the signature for changing my major. The class discussion was very interesting. It was similar to how the first class started also. The teacher wanted to see where we were within the subject. There were several people in the class that were also in my first one of the day.

After that, I located Monica and located her dorm, and we spent time together until dinner time. I ate some of her peanut butter and almonds, so I wasn't hungry right away when I came home for supper. But I had to walk up the hill to get my bike and figure out what I was going to leave at Anna's apartment so I wouldn't be staggering up hills on my bike. I had just gotten my Jazz book of songs, and I brought the texts I needed to do today's homework.

The biking is starting to get easier. I feel like I need to run though, so that I can get in shape that way too, and have training all around. Hopefully Ellie and I can start running after we get our routines going. I might have to move my running time to a different one than hers for some of the week.

As far as classes go, these have to be the most interesting classes I have taken, and we've barely gotten past the syllabi.

It's nice to live with people who don't criticize my every move, and I feel comfortable with. Yay grandparents!

I still need to get a lock for my bike. Crap.

Various Writings of the past few days.

Friday
The trip lasted almost seven and a half hours, and I was very tired and hungry when I finally arrived at my grandparent's house. Bedtime is going to be a lot earlier because of my eight o'clock classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Classes start on Tuesday. 
I can't wait to get reconnected with people and start hanging out, and I'll need to figure out how I'm going to do that, considering the cafeteria is the most social place on campus, and I don't have a meal plan. I could get a partial meal plan. I'm not sure how much that costs though.
It's good to see Anna, although she is currently in possession of the room that I will be staying in, and so there isn't any space for anything of mine yet. But we are moving her into her apartment tomorrow. It's when all the new freshman are moving in also, but we won't be on campus. 
Saturday
 We woke up early (ugh), and then went to the Farmer's Market. Then Anna packed up some more of her stuff, and we went to her new apartment. It's sooo close to campus. I'm kind of peeved that I'm not granted permission to live there, because it's a pretty darn perfect apartment. Although, sharing a room with Anna might get a little bit old. I got a little bit sick of her today. We moved her in to her apartment, and I met Christina her roommate (who seems very similar to Sarah Rody), and helped bring in stuff. Lots of fun. I went down to the quad (the grassy area between all the dorms) and saw a whole bunch of people which was great. I loved it. Bekah and I walked around together doing all sorts of fun things, which means we helped bring in someone's things, and tried to get the shirts that all the people moving people into their dorms were wearing (but we didn't.)
I climbed the hill to Anna's apartment three times today!
I also crashed the Honors Reception. Not all the honors students were invited, which was weird, but there might have been some reasoning which I am not aware of. But I went to it anyway, and nobody got mad, and ended up having some great discussion with some of the freshman and other people that are in the Honors program.
I saw all kinds of wonderful people. A couple people that I lived with in DC. and got to give wonderful hugs to all.
I walked around barefoot all day. My feet look disgusting. It's great.
My grandparents that living in West Virginia have a foster child named Brandon. He's quiet, but very polite and sweet.
Anna and I went shopping in the afternoon. I was really tired, and realized it when Anna suggested that we go to this store, and then that store, to see if what we needed was there for a better price. Ugh. And she drove in the wrong direction to go to Walmart, but wouldn't listen to me when I told her directions to get to where we wanted to go. We had to call Grandma and Grandpa to figure out how to get there. I then realized that I hadn't eaten since noonish, and was hungry.
We went to Taste of Thai for supper, and enjoyed Pad Thai tofu. Mmmm.
Sunday
We went to Crossroads church today. It's a church that Anna used to attend during the first few years she was in college. At first, I was really pessimistic about it. I didn't want to car pool, and Anna was being really silly and rushing me and being annoying, so I was so annoyed by her. But when we got to the church, I felt really welcome and accepted. Anna and I were to take care of the children during the service--they were doing a healing service. In the church, there has been many financial issues and loss of population in the church, so the pastor had to leave, and so they were having some open discussion about what everyone was feeling. Anna and I spent time with Leah, a six or seven month old, Naomi, a two and a half year old, and Hannah, a fourteen year old with Downs Syndrome. We played with blocks and play dough, and Leah fell asleep in my lap as I was bouncing her. I got to talk to several people that I used to know before we moved to Ohio, and had a delicious meal that was vegan at the potluck afterward. :) Thank goodness for beans and rice. mmmm. After church, I went home and moved in all my stuff. I went to Anna's, had to bike over to the people we carpooled with's house because I left my phone in their car. Then I ran an errand for Anna, and got some tomato paste at Food Lion for her. I biked over to Maplewood and helped Mariah, a girl that is on the hall I would have been on, loft her bed, and then helped Bekah move in her stuff. I saw a few more people before I went home. I biked back up the hill to give Anna her tomato paste, and then biked to my grandparent's house for supper.
We had veggies, hummus, crackers, cantaloupe, and Concord grapes. and then peach cobbler for dessert. It was really good. and now I'm at home watching Heroes, and processing what it means for me to live off campus, and if I like it or not. I know that what it is is where I'm going to be for the next year, and I know that it's a little bit more flexible. But it's hard to see that I'm going to be able to spend time with all the people either. I know I will, but I will be tired. I will find a balance. I know it. I'll get in biking shape, and it will be easier to get where I need to go. . .
Ellie and I are going to run together once classes start. I've met several new people that I didn't get tospend that much time with in the past that are actually Social Work majors and that's great. Some of them are actually on the hall I was going to live with.
I'm looking forward to dumpster diving sometime this week. I have a bunch of friends that are planning on going and I can't wait to do so.
It's really interesting being back on campus again, and having so many opportunities and things that I like and want to do. It's distracting and wonderful.
Monday
Today was a tiring good day, for the most part. I got up this morning, ate breakfast, and made a planner so that I can keep all my dates on track when things start to get hectic. I'll be al set for the next year and a half or so, for the amount of pages that I put in (on accident).
I biked to EMU this morning, and got in the registration line. I did all sorts of registering things, like wearing a name tag and attempting to remember what Anna and I's car's license plate it. I changed my major (finally) officially to social work. Be Gone, Biology! I ate lunch in the caf with some of my friends. I'm debating about how I'm going to be able to spend time with people during the day if I pack my own lunch, because I don't think they allow people who pack their lunch into the caf. If they did, I would do that, and it would be perfect. The other option is to buy a meal plan, and then go to the caf every dat for lunch, or about everyday. I'm not completely sure I can fit it into my budget, but it would certainly be cheaper than spontaneously buying lunch a couple times a week, and it would ensure quality discussion time with friends.
I played piano in Lehman (it's the music building where they also have chapel) for an hour. I'm trying to figure out some piano parts to some of my songs.
I wandered over to Maplewood, and camped out on Bekah and Meg's couch for a little while. I ate some dumpster strawberries and was packing up my stuff when I realized I had no idea where my phone was. So I jumped on my bike, and pedaled barefoot back to Lehman, and it was sitting on the bathroom counter. . . haha.
I didn't really know what to do with myself after that, and so I was going over to Anna's house and passed the EMU garden and I saw my friend Bekah. I decided to stop (I was also rather winded. These hills are intense.) and I sat with her eating some of the garden's grapes, and we watched cars go by for a little while. Then I biked up the little mountain to Anna's house and camped out in her living room for an hour or something, rehydrating, and doing busy work. (they gave us the schedule for the spring semester's classes also, so I was planning out next semester's classes for me)
When Anna got home (she was working out) she started getting dinner ready, and Grandpa and Grandma soon arrived. We had a simple dinner, some spaghetti with homemade tomato sauce, and a version of pico de gallo "salad" that you could put soybeans and mung bean sprouts on. Anna also had this molasses bread that she made, and served Anise candy afterward.
I had to go to a meeting for the Sustainable Food Initiative group that I'm joining. Most of my friends are in this group, and the ideas and plans are totally down my alley. I'm excited to get started and spend more time with these people, and in the garden, and bringing the leftovers from the caf to Our Community Place, a sort of soup kitchen place.
I walked home. It was getting a bit dark, and knowing that, I'm going to get my bike some lights, so that I can bike home, and also let Anna drive me next time. It's a bit of a long walk to do at night. It's close to a mile and a half or something.

Starting the Second Round

The second round of school. Year number two, I suppose you could say, but there's always a complicated answer to that question. Thus, this is the second round of EMU. Almost a second start, I would say, because of the fact that there is a whole new major in mind, with beautiful opportunities and options. I can't wait! There are upsides and downsides to each new circumstance.
I have chosen Social Work as the major for me. There are so many opportunities and a variety of awesome options right out of college, and I'm so excited for them! The downside, of course, is that the extra science classes I took last fall are now electives, unless I pursue some sort of science minor. I was thinking about still doing a music minor, but I still want to graduate early (oh the competitive heart of mine). So at this point, I'm just focusing on social work, and I'm hoping to take some fun classes like Rock climbing, and drawing or painting at some point, because I deserve to let that art out of my soul. For this semester, I have my watercolor paints (and I FINALLY have a blue!!!) and my sketch pad, so I should be all set, when it comes to things that I need for art outage. Of course there is a piano here, and I'm hoping that living her longer term will produce some sweet inspiration from those keys.
it has been recommended that I recycle some of my songs. Or work them out, so that they aren't all rough drafts, which they are. Many times, the piano part changes with each round of playing, mostly because I improvise the chords and that's just what I do. Some of the songs, though deserve their own unique piano part. I think I can do that. And then I can record.
I just finished up two weeks of glorious loveliness with Zach. He got to come to my house a couple days earlier than planned last week, and then stayed with my family all the way through Thursday, when we left to go to his house, and now I am in Harrisonburg. We did so many things. We went walking and running with my mother, father, and Rocket. We made Engle cookie bars (made into bars by Zach. I was content with cookies), and pizza Hazlett style--on the big wooden cutting board, with a serve yourself attitude. We made bread together, and many smoothies. We spent hours cutting up green beans, blanching these and also tomatoes, which we peeled, and picante sauce. We improvised from my mother's original recipe of chili. And all that was just in the kitchen! Well, that was mostly what we did, besides going to Sarah's house and picking raspberries with her for a little while. We spent a lot of time watching movies that we hadn't seen before that were quite interesting-- The Hudsucker Proxy, Signs, The Sixth Sense, Donnie Darko, and also some that one of us had already seen--Dumber and Dumber. That was very important.
What I enjoyed most about our time together were the conversations that we were able to have. We talked about important things that haven't been able to be discussed for a year, and we started getting to know one another again. We had a few arguments, several ending with me screaming on the floor. . . because he grabbed my foot, pinned it in between his arm and side, and was tickling it without remorse. A couple times my knee popped out of place. . . and then right back in, because I was kicking frantically. We all learn our limits one way or another.
Zach started challenging me mentally with these logic puzzles (he calls them "red herrings") where he would say a sentence, which could be the last sentence of a story, and then I would have to figure out why it happened. These drove me up the wall, but for Zach, we wouldn't do anything else until I figured it out. He looked up Red Herring games on the internet, and found this one that was really challenging that we couldn't get past level eleven on. . .
Zach also went to the zoo with Mom and me, and then met Kristen and her family (she was moving into her apartment in Toledo while we were there).
We drove to his home in Millersburg after I had an epic eye appointment with Dr. Darnell. We went to the Dandelion Seed Company, what you could call a showing of the arts, when we got there. It was a lot of fun, though I was tired from driving, and needed to eat some protein. I enjoyed the music and readings that were shared by everyone there, and realized how nice it would be if there was something like that for me to be a part of here so that I could regularly get feedback for my music.
Now it's time to go to sleep, or move into my room, or something. My eyes are tired, and so is my body. Driving seven and a half hours in one day by yourself can do that to you.

Finishing Flushing. Or just beginning

Here I am at the end of my three months already. And more and more, I realize that life is life, and everything changes. High school is now a distant memory or something I used to do and someone I used to be. My music has changed, my heart has changed. My motivations are for different ears to hear. I go through stages of being the listener and being the talker, and I'm learning how to love the talkers I know, and learn to listen to them, even when it gets really painful. This trip has challenged me. It's challenged me to decide when I can give, and when I should limit myself because I'm too exhausted to function. I've felt stretched and pulled like silly putty, and then crammed back into a container. To a point on this trip, I've felt used. I've served and planned a program that was an idea that was not my own, not my original plan. But in the ways I have felt this way, I also know that there is so much I've benefited from every second of being here. Ever second, I have benefited, and to a point, being used is a feeling that everyone feels all the time. But if we love each other, we look past the feeling of being used, and see that we are giving of ourselves to help others, even if they don't see it right away, or if they don't appreciate it. In that way, I don't view this trip with me as a puppet. I am a human, with no comparison to a puppet. God gives me the nudges I need to keep going when I need to keep going, and rest when I need to rest. He leads me to speak when something needs to be said, and when to shut my mouth.
Though I'm not in the same place I was at the beginning of my summer break, I still feel the same way about my Major choice, and I am excited to begin taking the multitude of classes that is the Social Work Major starting August 31st. Though at the beginning of the summer I was planning on living in the dorm with a wonderful roommate, I know that God is working in me, and the fact that I'll be living with my grandparents this semester. Even though I know that these friendships that I've built while I was here were very shortlived, I know that the connectiions I've made with people are going to stay connected, because we have an Awesome Common Ground of God, and we have know Him together--that is enough for me. I know that I was only in a piece of some people's lives--I was there on church, I was at the summer program, I was the white neighbor who lived upstairs, but I collided the worlds for some. I want the world of Flushing to collide with the rest of my life. I want to bring my little sister here and get her some Bubble Tea. I want to take Anna running through Kissena Park. I want to introduce my dad to Mark and my mom to Judy.
And I said I would come back. And I plan to, someday. We will see where God leads my feet and my heart.