packing alone bites

Right this moment, I am sitting in Kelley's bed. This will be the last hour or so that I will ever be able to do so. I smell like her fruity body spray- the one you shake up because it is pink stuff and oil. I don't care if she/you knows/know.

As I pack up all my belongings alone things start coming out of the crevices of my dresser, the shirts that I haven't worn in months and the dust behind my bed. As things empty out, I fill up. Isn't that the way it always happens? Somehow, right now, the more things don't make sense, the less I know, the less I have to grip, the more the world and God in general seem to come together. The collide in my brain as the perfect peace- a world where everyone is wondering about something, where everyone is doing the best they can at something, and for what? That is where peace comes from for me: the unity of unknowing.

I leave the country. I pack my things. Too many things and not that much all...all at the same time. I fly on a plane. I return 7 weeks later. This is what I know of my excursion now. Other than that the small details unsuccessfully try to fill in the gaps: rice and beans, rain, photography, children, strangers.....

I am on my way to be alone. Alone in the sense that I have never met any of these people before. I don't speak the language of the majority. I have a mountain to climb and only seven weeks to do it.

Another thought. Good-byes are the worst. It never hits me. I make it not a big deal because I don't know what to do with myself if it is a big deal. Besides, saying good-bye and all the sappy words that come afterward are only fake words for what we will feel when someone is gone. And those things we will eventually feel will only come as we are gone longer and longer. As the place where people you love use to be begin to clear out simply because that person is not filling it in with their face or new memories. The fountain of them has been temporarily turned off and the dry ground begins to ache for water. It begins to ache because it longs to see the blooms of friendship arise once more.

I don't deserve what I have. I don't deserve the support or the opportunity... but I am realizing that saying this takes the joy out of the gift. Thanks friend for that tidbit of wisdom.

This is so cheesy. Full o' cheese just for Lauren =]

I'm leaving. Now, let me go fill my car up with things I will probably come back realizing I don't need. Sheesh.

disguises and hunger

I'm encouraged today in that I realized that I no longer spend lots of minutes of the day anticipating writing to the world here in my little fake sheet of paper, as I like to call it. (in a former life I anticipated in a ridiculous way)

I am encouraged that lots of small, confusing, not necessarily discouraging things-- like never finding anything entertaining on the internet as some people do-- are just encouraging things in disguise. God has made me to live in the sun. In fact, He has made all of us to live in the sun. In fact also, my student eye doctor told me I should move to Australia. (or marry a wickedly rich man, or win the lotto, or drive an 18-wheeler. he was full of good ideas.)

I am amused that today I have eaten two things that are very bad for me but masquerading around as good for me. Those two things make me feel better as long as I only ponder them for periods less than 20 seconds, for their faults are greater than their claims to greatness:
1. fat free butterscotch pudding, which is loaded with extra sugar and preservatives
2. "Light" cranberry juice, which is right net to me left arm as I write this, which is also very likely crammed with tons of carcinogenic ingredients to replaced the perfectly-healthy-if-eaten-in-moderation-sugar.

If my life were a plant it would be like today when a C.S. Lewis book sprouted out of my mailbox. That's all I'll say about that because if I go on the magic will die. But other things would sprout too. Like more tulips and sunflowers, enough money to give every family in Africa a garden of their own, a cure for cancer, brownies with no calories and no preservatives, a bridge to wherever Rachel is, and a circa 1950's Impala. (I'd use it sparingly for driving into the sunset)

Onward toward more ramblings about a great day. I was not the cause of Christians facing possible persecution in India because I released too much information on the ever-so-accessible-to-Hindus-internet. Some other guy was- I dedicate my tears and my desire to throw up to that man. I eventually felt better and ate my peas for lunch.

Speaking of peas, while the world hunger crisis grows worse, I feel kind of bad eating. As if eating were some vain denial, some ignorant bliss that there are no hungry people in the world. But not eating is destroying the blessing that God has given me and its not helping the problem. That is the problem with me sometimes, and maybe a lot of other people. We think that deprivation for the sake of another's pain will help. It does nothing. Perhaps I might better understand the feeling of hunger if I decided to deprive myself of adequate nutrition for as long as I could hack it. However, at the end of the day, they're still hungry and, really, I can eat whenever I please. No one is better for that. Nothing proactive has been done. I'm sure that if a hungry person found out I was not eating even when I have access to food, they would think I was an idiot. Maybe I'm wrong.

If you read this, maybe you want to buy some dirt cookies. In Haiti, desperate people eat these.....just one way to be proactive and empathetic.

http://www.brighthope.org/group_resources/dirtcookies.php

...and still....I must say it's a great day to be alive.

shoot...

...I am deficient...

...and, on a brighter note, summer has officially found me.

in a world where God plans and good books burn

I had a million great thoughts today. I can't think of any of them now that I am nearly falling asleep....I hate that.

I swear, God is not my God if predestination is real.
Homosexuality and the Bible in the same sentence confuses me to no end.

There are so many things that the world is dealing with that I easily forget about because I never experience them. I was reminded by a dear friend that I don't have these conversations often enough. I could live on them like frogs live on lily pads.

Elsewhere in my thoughts, ever-present.....
There is still only one person whose mystery, still, more than anyone else's, intrigues me-does that mean I am crazy or need to focus on God more or that you are waiting too? I am no longer easily disillusioned because of you, but your illusion is like a good book that I can't reach and I have no idea how many pages I have until the end. It's sitting way too close to the fire...the flames are creeping in toward the pages so that I feel like I may never get to finish the story. It makes me sick to my stomach.

faux fruit and lies

Today I encountered an annoyance. I'd like to say it was more than that, but really, then I'd be over-dramatizing the fact that I was simply too lazy to read.

I think the situation I encountered today has a history, though. I think that the health craze that's been going on for probably longer than I've been alive is the culprit... though from my short vantage point of 21 years, it seems like the health craze has gotten more extreme since I've gotten older. Granted, I must give lee-way for the years that I was unaware it even existed which makes the spike in the health craze much more dramatic in my own mind.

Anyway, I was on my merry way through Meijer, practically jogging. I was feeling good about my pace and trying to relieve the cognitive dissonance I felt about not working out and the fact that I should work out more by telling myself that this speedy jaunt and the vegetables I was buying were as good as a 30 minute visit to the gym. Nice try. Even faking that argument sounded ridiculous in my head.

So I've got a heaping basket full of mostly healthy food hanging from my arm cutting off the circulation as I make my way up to the check out. (With the weight of the thing, I was still calculating the extra calories that I had burned from the dairy aisle to the front of the store...) I decided the moment I had walked through those automatic doors that I would be treating myself to some sort of drink. This never happens. Strike that. This rarely happens. It's a big deal, and I want to do it right.

I begin perusing the drinks. Don't want pop. No tea- hate cold tea. *where's the regular flavored water?* No sugared flavored water. *I've seen the commercials. It would take a whole 'nother 20 laps around the store to burn off a water!* No, no, no. Fine. Juice will do. Sugary but sometimes its a serving of fruit. Snapple? *Yes, this looks perfect and it says "immunity" on the front. gotta be good for ya* Snatch the Snapple and run since I was literally beginning to feel my muscles split where the skinny handles of the basket were cutting in.

It's not until I get into the car to enjoy this lovely treat that I so painstakingly chose that I read on the label: "Juice Drink"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

10% Juice, it says. This just doesn't make sense to me. The label has pictures of real fruit- pinapple, and oranges, and mangoes and all sorts of ridiculous tropical fruit that is supposedly smashed into the bottle. AND A MAP in teh background...as if this was delicately chosen fruit from around the world. But no. It should have been a picture of a mound of sugar with a lake nearby. Oh, and maybe a pea-sized apple somewhere in there. That's what this bottle contained.

And I drank it.

Thank you Snapple for lying to me. I trusted you. Oh, and thank you health craze for letting it get to this point.

crash and burn

"My greatest fear
is that you'll crash and burn
and I won't feel your fire."
--Nickel Creek



Everything inside me says I'm wonderful except the paths that you keep crossing. That's where my mind is wearing thin.


(If I could buy an old car painted in sky blue or cherry red...I would. Right now.)

I painted tonight. I stayed up too late doing so. I am ok with that right now. Tomorrow, my story may change.

This underlying theme in my life, as of late, involves anything old: cars, music, moments. I can't get past the sound of tree frogs and I can't see the stars without thinking about things that make my heart flutter and make my stomach churn. They make me want to leap as high as I can as if maybe they'll let me join their little club in the sky. I can't think about summer without feeling myself cruising down the country road with mosquitoes flying in my open windows and fireflies greeting me at the corners when I'm forced to slow down. I can't think about summer without thinking about the lake. The carnival. Lemonade and hot pavement. Good-byes that took far too long. Without aching so bad.

...but I'm so good. it's a great view. I just wish it came with a time machine.

lovely delusion

Just a reminder:
Jesus calmed a storm. All we have to do is ask. ( I am practically Jupiter- storms everyday)

Jesus felt his power leave him when a woman touched His robe in faith. All we have to do is believe.

Jesus has an easy yoke and His burden is light. All we have to do is loosen our grip.


That's all........right?


You'll probably never know, and hopefully I'll eventually forget, that if you asked, I'd say yes. Only because I hold vivid pictures in my head that I flip through when I need a pick me up or when I need a shot of nostalgia like a mostly harmless drug. You are still my summer, and, for some reason, I wish it would stay that way forever...just as I imagine it. You still exist only as I imagine you to be and not as you are. Perhaps that is love.

Perhaps that is delusion.

wish list

I wish I had cravings to do homework more often than I have cravings to eat donuts.

I wish that toilet paper never ran out, just like an Everlasting Gobstopper.

I wish the penny I found in the crack of our wood floor was the key to a secret door in our apartment.

I wish cars didn't make funny break-down noises.

I wish that gray days were optional.

I wish I could jump so high that all my friends could see me waving to them where ever they were.

I wish I were working on my homework and liking it. patooey.

toss up

--its always a toss up...

... take the highway back to the apartment or drive through downtown--



Tonight I took the highway. Tonight was a big picture kind of night. From the highway, you can see all of Grand Rapids for about one minute...one glorious, profound minute. You can see how small you are for one humbling minute. And suddenly, it didnt matter how tired I am going to be tomorrow. Life goes on, the cars keep driving, people keep buying their coffee in the morning and their beers after 5.

Sometimes that is reassuring.



Sometimes you just need to stand on top of a building in the middle of the night to feel real again.

there are so many things I am afraid to forget...so many things that I get overwhelmed by remembering them, for fear that they may have been lost forever if I had not suddenly recalled them. then I hold those memories tightly, strangling them, strangling myself.

tonight was beautiful. tonight was an unexpected miracle. my lj group. we told stories, ate cookies, laughed until my cheeks hurt, and stayed up late for the second night in a row. I love hearing life stories, and interviewing people about what they've learned and laughing and crying together and understanding that that is exactly how life works. its normal. and still we have joy.

it helped me realize that maybe being afraid of forgetting people or moments distracts from having new moments...maybe I need to learn to be content with having been a part of someone's life, and not drowned myself in the guilt of having lost touch...maybe it's the fear of loneliness making its ugly self known even when I am not alone...

I am overwhelmed by beauty past and present. so much so that sometimes I find it hard to function and breathe...and then reality sets in tearing each stitch of perfection out slowly and reminding me that the fabric it holds is rough and worn, but without it there would be no reason for stitches.

I felt God pulsing through my veins on the drive home after dropping them off. It felt perfect.

narcissism..and birds

Though hesitant to do so, the blog has begun.

Hesitant for two reasons:
1. memories of Xanga
2. I just wrote a paper about blogs being narcissistic.

Perhaps poetry will pour out of me in the future but more likely thoughts. Just thoughts. Tidbits. (these things called blogs are not all that healthy for obsessive personalities...)

So to begin...

Today has been for the birds, but not bad in the least. My peanut-buttered toast smelled like baby chickens for about half a second this afternoon. Sometimes things just smell like other things and as I was about to put the toast in my mouth I got the image of a fuzzy yellow chick and was confused. Then I realized why. And as quick as that it smelled like peanut-butter toast again.

This morning, the seagulls screamed in protest as I stomped off my summery shoes of their too-thick-for-March-almost-April coat of snow while leaving work. I considered how angry I'd be if I were seagull and flew in to find sunshine and "What is this? snow?" all over the ground...and the cars...and the lakes.....and people's shoes...and the beach...So I laughed to myself in the parking lot as they shouted. I laughed out of sheer pity for those angry birds.... and my socks were a bit wet.

--it's hard to narrow your thoughts when you begin a blog...you have everything before you...and nothing behind--