Some Things Crowding My Mind

My life looks quite pulled together.

Looks can be deceiving.

Do I have a roof over my head and a job that will pay the rent on that roof?  Yes, praise the good Lord.  Do I have a sweet sweet boyfriend and a warm fuzzy cat?  Yes, again, praise the good Lord.

However, that same good Lord is sparking a desire in my heart, and that desire could take me to a frightening place.

I call that place "organic chemistry."

I recently realized that I have a passion for nutrition and always have.  It's always seemed so natural to me, so I didn't think about it as, oh, a calling (you may have read entire blog posts on my fascination with nutrition, meanwhile I had no idea that other people didn't nerd out about such things).  Which means I majored in Sociology, which, while awesome, will not afford me much of a job outside of research and/or teaching, which I'm not feeling. 

SO, grad school, I'm looking to you to remedy my academic deficiencies in this area so that I can go out into the world and teach people how to put the right things inside their super cool hydroelectric machines - aka, bodies.

Well, I started daydreaming.  I started researching grad schools.  Found The One.  Found The Masters Program Designed For Cole.  And found that I lack 5 classes in prep for that course.  A full year of general chemistry and 2 organic chemistry classes.  That frightens me to no end.  There's a REASON I went into the humanities department.  It's because math and science were a little... harsh for me.  Chemistry isn't my strong suit.

But imagine, if you will, me as a Master of Advanced Study in Maternal and Child Nutrition.  Be still, my beating heart.  But if that much chemistry is required to get in, first, can I do it??  Can I make it through those prerequisites?  And second, does that mean that the program is super duper chemistry heavy?  Is that really what God's calling me to?...

Anxiety.  And that's just really silly, because if God has planted this desire in my heart, it's for a reason.  Maybe because I need to start on this path to find the one that's really for me, or maybe because this IS that path and I have to go through the valley of the shadow of evil (organic chemistry) to refine my faith in Him and see how He completely carries me through this--to see His Goodness and Sufficiency.  To see His Faithfulness and Omniscience.  Do I really believe in these characteristics of God?  Because if I do, my only response is to trust Him and step forward in faith.

Without panicking and losing my mind.

So, sweet reader, pray for me as I embark on this frightening journey into the complete unknown.  I feel completely ill-equipped for this, but he has pro-vided (He has seen before me, He knows what I need and He will give it right when I need it).  Maybe he has provided by encouraging you to procrastinate whatever you're doing enough to pop over to this blog, and maybe YOU are a nutritionist and you can give me some tips and tricks!  If so, leave a comment.  Even if you're not a nutritionist, encouraging comments are welcomed and needed.

Love :)

Domestic Things

Hi friends :)

Just daydreaming about new one-bedroom house to come--list-style!  Let's get domesticated...

1.  I'll be living alone with my cat.  That does not mean I am a cat lady, understood?  And that cat's litter box will no longer be in my bedroom.  It will be in the bathroom where poo belongs.  HOORAY!!!
2.  I'm already pretty furnished!  I don't think I'll need any large furniture pieces (until Jared finally convinces me that I need a couch...  Which will be several paychecks in the future).  In the meanwhile I'll have 2 (3?) fairly comfortable chairs and floor pillows for the living room.
3.  Which means I get to spend the most time and effort on decorating with what I already have--MY FAVORITE!!  And I get to decorate an entire house, all by myself :D
4.  With Martha Stewart.  I've already browsed through a few of her articles on super cute and super inexpensive DIY projects and moving tips.
5.  This is going to be the smoothest move you've ever heard of.  I'm talking, numbered boxes with a master list of items inside said boxes.  I'm talking, gaff tape marking off where the movers shall place big furniture pieces.  I'm talking, color coded boxes by room and importance.
6.  Jared becomes afraid of me when I start talking about moving.
7.  I'm excited to cook in my new home.  Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the most important meal of the day--dessert.
8.  I'm excited to invite people over to my new home.  Small group gatherings (how awesome will THAT be!?)... girls nights... jam sessions... Star Wars nights with popcorn, beer, and a crew of nerdy men...
9.  I'm excited to flex my green thumb again--hopefully with more success (see: 5 pots of dirt in my house currently) since I have my own little balcony.  Herbs, blooms, and veggies, oh my!
10.  I'm delighted that I'll get to ride my bike to work!  Yoshi's gotten so little use since I graduated.  She needs a good cleaning, some air in her tires, and the weather to cool down so her pansy-of-an-owner will be willing to go for bike rides again.

While I'll be super sad to leave the sweet girls of ACES (the original 4's initials--soon to be changed to JEWS. Hehe), living alone is something that I've toyed with trying for a few years, and the time and place couldn't have been better!  I feel like a more well-rounded person for the living experiences that I've had (good and bad, and there have been plenty of both).

Brief re-cap there:
1. At home I had my own room and sink.  Everything else was shared with 1 or 3.
2. Dorm life, year 1.  Nothing was just for me.  Shared everything.  Including sanity.
3. Dorm life, year 2.  I had my own bedroom!  Shared bathroom and living space with 1.
4. Apartment, part 1.  I had my own bedroom AND bathroom, shared living and kitchen with 1 (2).
5. Apartment, part 2.  Shared bathroom, living, and kitchen with 1.  And then with Freds.  Which I didn't blog about.  Because it was gross and caused us to immediately move into...
6. Apartment, part 3.  My own bedroom, shared bathroom with 2, kitchen and living with 3.  Which is surprisingly not crowded most of the time.

So now I'm moving into Apartment, part 4.  My own everything.  Weird.  Granted, I won't be splitting rent with anyone (womp womp...) but that's ok.  I have a big girl job.  Plus, I'll be paying less in gas since I'll be BICYCLING TO WORK EVERY DAY! :D 

I'm seriously really pumped about that.

Whoa... Moment of Shock at Time

I've had this blog going for over a year.

This is probably something I should be more aware of, since I started it in April of '10 and it's now July of '11, but no...  I had no idea that it had been going on that long!!

I blogged without telling anyone for a month when I got this thing started.  I wanted to be comfortable with it, and I didn't want "readers" to have to go through the baby steps and growth pains with me.  You know, the dorky, "well... I've started a blog... don't really know what to say yet..." bit there at the beginning.

Also, I had to figure out who my audience was.  I didn't quite learn that one in time, as there was a near mishap with a professor finding out about my blog from my big mouth, and I had to run--in heels and a dress--to the nearest computer to delete the posts that I'd written in his class before he could figure out how to spell "idiosyncrasies."  Thankfully, there was a post about poop to get through before hitting the post in question, and what male doesn't pause to read a post about poop?

Let it be known that I was in the middle of finals week when I wrote that post about bodily waste, and I'm going to blame that somewhat poor choice on the known desperate need for stupid body humor to relieve some of the stresses of spring semester finals.  Also, I was still a blogging noob at the time.  I have no excuses for this post, though.  Except that Dooce and Hyperbole and a Half were heavily influencing me at the time--thus the animation.

I'm still just ridiculously floored that it has been OVER a year since I started this blog.

Thank you for reading :)  If you didn't, I would have no reason to have continued!  I've got a journal for that kind of reader-less writing!  This is for you!

Speaking of...  Questions, comments, or suggestions for the future of Brilliant Idiosyncrasies?

Golden Beaver. Beaver Retriever.

It's been far too long, my dear friends.

So, I just wrapped up Kids Kamp at Christ Chapel, where I work and go to church.  I'm glad to have participated, and I enjoyed SO many aspects of it.  I'm a little wary of a few elements involved, but I'm not sure how to properly articulate those at this time, so I'll just say this: read Radical by David Platt.  That's how I'm feeling at the moment, and I'm not sure what to do with it, so I'm in prayer and staying pro-active.  My life goal is to make much of Christ, and I will continually be asking how I can do that best with my days.  But anywho...

There are 4 basic types of personalities as described by the DISC personality assessment.  The personality types are as follows:

• Dominance – relating to control, power and assertiveness
• Influence – relating to social situations and communication
• Steadiness (or submission) – relating to patience, persistence, and thoughtfulness
• Conscientiousness (or caution, or compliance) – relating to structure and organization

These could also be called Lion, Otter, Golden Retriever, and Beaver, respectively (totally stealing from our guest speaker last Sunday, who was amazing, but I can't remember his name right now).

Lions are the ones in charge.  Otters are people people.  Golden Retrievers are harmonizers (they have a hard time saying no).  Beavers are the ones with impeccable planning/organizing abilities.  Each one is energized by their quality.  Social situations don't exhaust otters--they exhilarate them!  Beavers are most giddy when they've just finished a big organization project.  Lions aren't intimidated by being put in a position of control over a group--they're thrilled by responsibility and their role of leader.  Golden Retrievers are most at peace with the world when they are doing something to help others.  Make sense?

Mkay, folks, I'm here to tell you that I'm a Beaver/Golden Retriever with a spot of Lion who feels like she should be an Otter.  And I'm dating an Otter/Golden Retriever.  It's a pretty perfect match.  I think everyone should have a healthy dose of Golden Retriever, personally, but then again, I also think that everyone would benefit from a little Beaver-style organization.  Maybe we all think others should be like us...  Lions?  Do you wish that everybody else had the leadership ability that you have?

It says a lot about my past relationships...  I think I have a more challenging time getting along with Lions, and there are definitely a couple of those in the dating history...  I've historically gravitated to fully Golden Retriever types, and I've noticed that those situations always frustrated me eventually.  I didn't like the lack of leadership.  I don't care to be the leader.  The ideal spot for me is the "right hand lady."  I connect deeply with the playground rhyme "first is the worst, second is the best, third is the one with the treasure chest!"  I don't have muscles to carry a treasure chest, but I'm really good with a map, ya know?  I wanna be first mate.  Administrative assistant.  Vice Pres.

If my Lion father is reading this, he is doing so with no small amount of shame in the lack of Lion in his little girl.  But ya know what, daddy?  Lions couldn't operate without Golden Retrievers and Beavers!  It just wouldn't work!  We're the ones with the planners and the cell phone making sure that the Otter/Lion is getting where he/she needs to go!

I'm peacock proud of my Beaver/Golden Retriever self.  And Jared can Otter for me at parties, which is delightful, and then I'll be the one to remember where we parked the car :)

Excuses

So it's been a significant chunk o'time since I've written.  That's a blogging no-no.  That's how you lose all your friends and get sent to the corner to put your nose in the circle on the wall.  Or the Internet equivalent.

I'm not sure why, but I've all but disappeared from my computer altogether for the past month (not so much the phone, though. Fb has seen plenty of me. Don't be jealous).  Ok, I have a few possible reasons why... 

I've been working (BIG GIRL JOB! BIG GIRL JOB!), which I'm loving like I thought I'd never love work.  It's been interesting trying to figure out how time should be spent since school isn't demanding 30+ hours of my conscious (sometimes forced to be conscious) week.  Granted, this job requires a good chunk of my time, but it sure does feel different when it's fun and you're getting paid to do it.  My free time really does feel FREE!

On that note, I have started watching the show Brothers and Sisters on Netflix instant watch.  I haven't ever been much of a tv show person, but I'll be doggone if I haven't gone and gotten myself legitimately hooked on this one.  It takes me back to my Sims years in jr high when I had to set a timer above the computer or else I'd never leave the computer...  But I hate feeling like I've wasted my precious free time in front of a screen. 

Which leads me to exciting point number 3!  I'm trying desperately to get back into reading.  I love reading.  At least, I used to.  I would spend hours and hours lost in a good book, and it was AMAZING.  Then school swooped in and took away all that time.  And I made friends (*pushes glasses up nose*).  My flippin amazing roommates (2 of them participating, but #3 is amazing too) and I are doing a spring and summer reading program, complete with stickers and incentives.  We made posters, so every time we read a book, we add a sticker to the poster.  I made a big pretty tree, and every time I read a book, I put a bird in the tree.  I did that basically because I wanted it to not look too terribly silly if there were only 3 birds in the tree by the end of the summer (WHICH IS NOT GOING TO BE THE CASE. I'm determined).

Also, I'm dating a super amazing fella.  And he's fun to hang out with.  So I do.

Jared, earmuffs.

Other readers, this is the sweetest man I think I've ever met.  If you're a dear friend who lives far away and cares about my heart, fear not--it's in the best hands you could ever hope for.  Seriously.  Don't get me started cuz I'll gush on and on about it for way too long :)

Ok, Jared, earmuffs off.

All that to say, I've kept myself quite busy, in productive or not so productive ways, which meant that I didn't holla at my blog for a significant chunk of time.  I sorry.  But I'm thrilled to report that life after graduation is amazing, work is way better than writing papers, Brothers and Sisters is a pretty darn good show about a big dysfunctional family, I'm slowly but surely re-learning to read for me, and God has 100% blessed me beyond belief in ALL aspects of my life.  Even/especially the little tough spots :)

*teaser* Stay tuned for a post about a return to India!

The Shame of Purity - A Dirty Lie

(I wrote this after we had a guest speaker at church.  I needed to respond to it, because it hit me in such a big way.  I loved writing it, and I realized that all those times I said I hated writing in college, it was because I was forced to.  Maybe the 153 blog posts should have given it away, but I don't hate writing at all!  What a fun and relieving realization...)



Today at my church we had a speaker who basically came to help guide us as a church around the world of pop media. He covered movies, tv, advertising, and games. His name is Ted Baehr (that's a little about him and his "Movieguide" site--worth a look). His talk was very interesting (basically, vote with your dollar. If you like it when a hero is in line with your morals and you want to see more of that, be knowledgeable about films before you see them and encourage industry growth in that direction), but the talk itself is not what I need to talk out with you. It's the "take it home with you" aspect that hit a personal nerve.

I am incredibly blessed to have grown up in a Christian home, with parents who were involved in my life and encouraged good choices. Without their influence, I don't want to know where my sin nature would have taken me. As a kid I wasn't "forbidden" to see things. I was knowledgeably discouraged from watching certain things, but I didn't anxiously await the moment that I was out from their grasp so that I could partake of the forbidden fruit. Why? Because 1) they discouraged certain themes, rather than just discouraging specific shows or movies, 2) they explained why they discouraged what they did, and 3) I knew that they loved me and they were protecting me from things I probably didn't want to see in the first place. This, in my opinion, is brilliant parenting. Granted, folks, I've always been one who desperately sought to follow the rules and receive praise for being "good." There are kids who are rebellious from the moment of birth, and I realize that we are just wired differently. I still hold that all this applies, even if it doesn't look the same in post-processing.

This upbringing meant that I grew up knowing who the Power Rangers were, but I never watched the show. I watched Mr. Rogers (but really I only liked the part when they went into the magical land, or when the guest was a performer). I loved movies like The Wizard of Oz (over and over and over again) and The Little Mermaid. I was still the target audience of Disney movies, Nickelodeon, and ABC Family (which was then actually family friendly) when I was in my teens. My parents knew what I was watching, and that made me feel safe. If my dad was watching a movie and something inappropriate for me to see came on, he would change the channel, look at me and tell me why he did that ("That was not a nice word he was using. We don't say things like that." "They were about to get in a big fight and it's not something you should see." "You don't wanna see all that kissing. That's gross and boys have cooties and you should never go near one ever. Ever, Cole.") That was so important to me, and it stuck with me.

It stuck with me, for better AND for worse. In elementary, jr. high, high school, AND college, I was teased for being naive. I didn't know about salacious topics that my 3rd grade classmates were talking about (not kidding on that one, folks). My most embarrassing story (and a textbook case of bullying the nerdy girl) happened in 6th grade when I didn't know what a sexual term meant, and a classmate heckled me until I had to fess up to my ignorance. I was the college girl who was perceived to be "pure as the driven snow"--a direct quote that a boy used in a derogatory fashion about me. Every time something like that happened, I hated how little I knew about the vulgar, perverse, salacious side of the world. I hated how shielded I was from what everyone else was clearly well-versed in. I saw my naïveté as something to hide, resent, and fight against.

But since when is purity and innocence something to be ashamed of?

No matter how I fought against it, my conscience (encouraged by my upbringing and my growing faith in the Lord) kept whispering to me, "Cole, you may be uncomfortable in this situation, but ultimately innocence is of greater value than your temporary ease in an unimportant social interaction."

Sometimes I could not for the life of me see the truth in that idea, and I read that Cosmo, watched that movie, listened to that girl's story, read that book, and kissed that guy. I sat on whatever guilt emerged and told it that whatever I'd learned was necessary for my social survival. As I got older and learned about more of the "bad" to counteract my upbringing of "good," I did survive in those social interactions. I could talk like all the other girls, even if I hadn't the actual experience that they had (and now I wonder if they were just like me, struggling to display a lifestyle that they didn't lead just for social gratification). I could emerge on the other side of a provocative conversation looking like I was still a "good" girl, but not too good to fit in.

So now I'm a college graduate. I'm 21. I have a job (woo!). I'm an adult (albeit a young one). I've been making my own choices for a long while now. And I have Netflix. I watch whatever movies I want! Sometimes I feel like Singing In the Rain, but sometimes I try watching something more along the lines of That Old Feeling, a goofy comedy starring Bette Midler, or Dorian Gray, the film version of the classic Oscar Wilde novel, or maybe I'll watch an episode of The Tudors, about the history and scandals of Henry VIII.

My conscience is still whispering to me about those movies and shows, though. I keep telling myself that old lie that I'm just uncomfortable watching this because of that ridiculous naive thing that I should still be battling against. This movie has this or that actor in it, or this show is appealing for this or that intellectual reason. But after Dr. Baehr's talk, I turned to my conscience, that same quiet voice that hated That Old Feeling, a comedy that romanticizes infidelity and divorce, the whisper that felt ill at Dorian Gray, which is, in its entirety, all about the salacious and vulgar elements of the world, the voice that quietly ended any interest in The Tudors, the overly sexual show that dresses itself up like a history lesson, much like an inappropriate Halloween costume from last year, and I said sheepishly to my conscience, "Thank you. And you're right."

The truth is, still, that ultimately innocence is of greater value than any worldly entertainment to be drawn from movies or shows like that. Or books or games or even conversations like that. And whether I like to admit it or not (I don’t), I am affected by being exposed to that material. We all are. Some definitely more than others. I didn’t grow up becoming more and more desensitized by sex, violence, drug use, or other unpleasantries. I was guarded from that, at least to some substantial degree, and I wish that everyone in the world had been or could be completely protected from that trash.

In the same breath, though, I must warn that a side effect of being rightfully guarded from bad is the reaction to it that surely must come when the inevitable intersection occurs when the guarded meets exactly what she was being guarded against. Proof that I am as naïve as I pretend not to be is the lasting discomfort that I feel (that I want so desperately to ignore) when I do meet up with situations of perversity. If I was not so inexperienced, surely it wouldn’t concern me, and so admitting the effect is embracing the naïveté, the disgrace that I’ve fought against my whole life! Oh, what turmoil, then, to subject myself to the categorization of “goody too shoes,” the blasted greenness—just imagine the heckling!



Wait…



Where are the hecklers?

She’s me. My own habit of avoiding innocence is the only thing preventing me from embracing it, for no one and nothing but that habit would now begrudge me of it. What a gut-punch of a realization. As an adult, I’m now comfortable embracing myself for who I am, primarily who I am in Christ! What’s more, my love for Him has made me clean, pure, white, and blameless, like new. I’ve embraced that stiffly for so long—glad for it, but bracing myself against my own training that all of those beautiful qualities are something to hide and be a little ashamed of. Embraced it, yes, because it truly is important to me—I value relationship purity for a reason, I fight for the safety and innocence of children for a reason—but begrudgingly because of the little travel-sized idol that I made way back in elementary school and carried with me through college—the idol of social acceptance.

I declare that now that idol is dead to me. I destroy it. I embrace the purity that Christ has given me, and I will just have to retrain myself by the power of the Holy Spirit to re-value my own innocence in the same way that I value it in others. I am never so tainted that my Father will not love me and clean me, like a loving father would always clean his child who falls in the mud, but I am now going to walk like a child who appreciates that cleanliness and try to avoid the mudpuddles.

 
(written on 3/27/11)

Whoa, Nelly.

Look out folks.  I'm about to BLOW YOUR MIND.

I have had a job for a week, and I love it.  Sunday morning preschool director at Christ Chapel Bible Church.  No, not full time with benefits, but it covers the bills AND [get this--], about half of my paycheck will go into my savings account.  That noise that you just heard was my dad giggling with glee like a lee-ttle girl.  I'm pretty pleased myself.  Bonus, I get to keep babysitting that cute little 6-month-old baby because I still have time.  WIN.

Also, I'm playing a nerdy online game.  I'm telling you because I love you and I can't keep things like this from you.  I'm trusting you to not judge me for my high level of nerdiness, mostly because I'm sure by this point it doesn't surprise you, not one little bit.  Good news, I'm playing the same game as my beau, so once I get past this beginner stuff, we can play together.  Bad news, I suck at it, so I have very low expectations for getting out of this beginner stuff.  Good news again, he's very encouraging and doesn't shame me for not knowing how to function in the most basic of ways in the game.  Bad news again, I am ashamed of me for not knowing how to function in the most basic of ways in the game.

Lastly, I got done with work at 1.  I then came home, made lunch, pulled on comfy clothes, and was confused by this strange new feeling...  The lack of pressing things to do.  No homework, no projects due, no job searching, no cleaning to be done.  I wasn't procrastinating anything or worried about any upcoming stressor.  There was an overwhelming peace and excitement for all the possibilities for my day.  I then sat at my computer to write a blog post and maybe, just maybe, play an online game.

After basking in this glorious glow for a few moments, I remembered all the things people said to me when I told them I was going to graduate a semester early.  The "no no no! stay in college as long as you can!" comments officially make no sense to me at all.  Those of you reading this who are worried about impending graduation, get excited.  I made cupcakes yesterday--not because I was stressed or procrastinating, but because I had time and I wanted to.  Cue angel chorus.

Love you.  I really do.

Blogging and Journaling Observations

Now, before anybody gets their britches in a wad, this is not a definitive "how to" on journaling and blogging. Rather it is a collection of observations that I have made about my own blogging experiences and journal adventures. Yours may (and possibly SHOULD) look very different from mine. But this is a ME-centered blog. So I'm gonna talk about ME.

Me.

So! Journal experiences first. I journaled before I knew what blogging was, so it only seems fair. I have found that I must make guidelines to follow that will shape and somewhat format the entries in my journals. For instance, with my current Leather Bound Journal (LBJ) I have the following "rules" (not really rules, don't let that throw you off):

-  all entries have the date and time recorded
-  entries are directed at the journal, not at myself or another reader (unless otherwise noted)
-  I may certainly write letters to others, but those others don't get to read them
-  known exceptions: prayers (God has that omniscience thing going for Him), and letters to my someday hubs. He will get to read those once he claims his title. Can't be showing his letters to some poser!
-  I do not do not do not have to write every day. Ever. And I don't have to write just once a day. Writing frequency it totally an up-to-me kind of thing. I've scared myself off from journaling for weeks at a time because I set high standards for my journal keeping and it was too much to handle.

Ok the whole point of these guidelines is to make my journal a safe place for me. I can exhale onto paper without thinking about who I am writing to, who may see it, and how much I'm responsible for writing. It's really nice. The only problem that I run into is when there's so much to write that I don't write anything for too long, and then I don't know how to record it all without missing something. I want to do it all justice, but I can only write so much in one sitting.

That happens with blogging, too (segue!).

The India trip, for example.  SO MUCH HAPPENED that I have no idea how to tell you exactly what happened.  There's another post brewing that will be a "this is what we DID" rather than a "this is how I FELT" kind of post.  Still brewing because I'm still trying to lucidly sort all that out.  Maybe I never will, though, and I should just go ahead and blog it out. Hm.

Anywho.  Blogging guidelines!  Not rules, not regulations, not for everybody, but they've helped make this blogging experience a better one for me (and possibly for you.  Unless you don't enjoy reading these posts.  In which case, why have you read this much?  You're lying to yourself.  You love my blog.  You can't get enough of it.  Embrace the love).

-  remember the audience.  Write knowing that your grandmom, little sister, professors, best friends, that person you want to talk about, and your future boss are all reading.  I'm (almost) too afraid to blog about the embarrassing story associated with the hard lesson behind that guideline because I'm afraid that it's still applicable.  Here's a hint:
-  don't blog during class and write about how you're blogging in class.  If you choose to ignore this advice, then do not subsequently give your blog address to the professor of said class, then requiring you to run frantically to the nearest computer to delete all said class-blogging entries.
-  that being said, write as yourself.  Don't create a fake voice--write as YOU, knowing that those who know and love you may be reading, and those who don't know and love you are GETTING to know you by reading.
-  read other blogs, be inspired by them, and encourage others to blog
-  please, for the love of all things good in the world, do not whine on your blog. 
-  unless it is side-splittingly hilarious.  Then whine all day.
-  if you provide a link in your blog, explain what it is.  This doesn't make me want to click here no matter how awesome it is.  Comprende?

Brilliant.  Now go start a blog, update your own, buy a journal, or just pick it up again.

I love ya like the Pioneer Woman loves her luggage :)

On Journals

I'm a journaler.  In a big way.  I don't even know if that's technically spelled correctly, but we're gonna go with it.

I had a diary when I was in 3rd-8th grades.  As in, I had a book with a giant lock on it that I would occasionally angst in, but it was far from consistent (sometimes years would pass between entries) and my writing hinged mostly on my ability to find my well-hidden diary keys (did anyone else have a paranoia that your parents were reading your diary?).

Things changed in May of 2005.  I got this journal:

This journal (which came with a pen that lived happily there in that elastic loop) was what changed it all.  It was a personal turning point.  This was the point in my life when I became a writer.  Even though I was only writing for me, holy wow was that going to be important.  I actually completely filled this journal, which impressed me.  I didn't think that actually happened.  I was just so inspired by the journal itself, that I felt warmly invited to write.  There are lots of "Dear God," entries, but let's be honest, a solid 95% of the subject matter in this journal was boy-related.  I'm fairly certain that I've been boy crazy since birth, but about 4th through 10th grade was just embarrassing.  This journal captured the tail end of that embarrassment, spanning from May 2005 to April 2006.  Yeah!  Finished my first journal in less than a year!  I'm tellin you--I ate that stuff up.

So then I was on a roll.  I scavenged for the next journal.  Really I wanted another one that looked just like that, but they weren't being made anymore.  I settled for #1's cousin:

I took this one to Europe with me, to camp with me... and then it fizzled out.  This one's kinda my summer of '06 journal.  I did write a lot that summer.  But I also took it to camp in '07!  5 pages that summer.  Oh well.  This was a faithful journal nonetheless.

Because I had declared the above journal as my summer journal, I had to have another one on hand for the school year.  Here she is:

My senior year I didn't journal much.  I'd say that I didn't have much to write, but that'd be false.  I think I had too much to journal, so I had troubles spitting it all out. 

And, let's be honest, I kinda sorta hated that journal.  She was a pain to write in, she was pink, and she was just so... not me.  I'm really not sure why I purchased her in the first place.  And then I named her Pheebi.  What a gosh awful name for a journal.  Who wants to tell "Pheebi the pink journal" about a spiritual issue that one is battling?  Or about the complicated relationship situations that one finds oneself in?  Certainly not me.  I tried, but I didn't make it even 1/8 of the way through Pheebi the pink journal.  My last entry says, "Journal, When I write this, please don't get offended...  You don't inspire me to write as a journal should.  I'm sorry to leave you like this, but it's time.  I will be moved in to college in 4 days. I am leaving you here.  When I have written in you, you've served me well.  I look back on these entries fondly."  I was self-aware enough to be aware of and amused by the overdramatic nature of that final entry.

And then I found him.  Gary.  My fourth journal and dear friend:

I love this journal so much.  I started writing to Gary the first night of college, and I filled the last page, tearfully, in January of 2010.  That's a pretty solid 2 and a half years of companionship.  He was with me through the most life-changing moments that shaped me into who I am today.  He tolerated me when I was dumb as a brick and overly cerebral--sometimes in the same entry.  He endured who knows how many not-serious crushes blown way out of proportion, as well as the quiet genuine moments of relationships that held some real weight.  God, family, friends, changes in life's direction... This journal saw it all. 

Some of the bits of the bittersweet farewell letter on the last pages reads, "I won't lie--I will miss this.  Your pages are exceptionally inviting, dear friend.  Unmatched.  I wish you were forever long, so I could keep writing in you until I am 105 years old, but I'm sure you'd tire of me...  I feel like you carried the emotional bulk of my transition from ridiculous high schooler to slightly less ridiculous young adult.  Probably the most word-heavy transition of the human life...  If I collected all the people from the past 2 1/2 years together, I could pull from their memories and reconstruct the bread crumbs that lead from almost-18-year-old Cole to almost-20.5-year-old Cole.  But this would be quite tiresome.  And many of those people I don't particularly wish to see again. I would much rather flip back a few pages to see for myself.  Besides, I was probably more honest with myself in this journal than I was with most of the people I confided in or interacted with."

I was nervous about the journal that would follow Gary.  He was a big deal.  How does one just replace a dear friend?  It was a very serious search that I insisted on making alone--I didn't trust anyone to know me well enough to help me find a journal, and I didn't want to offend anyone if they tried.  I settled on this journal--number 5:

This journal doesn't have a name, but it's been an excellent journal, and I've given every entry not only a date but a time as well (previous journals I'd only very rarely even put dates, which makes exact chronology difficult to track).  This journal was started in January of 2010, just after I bade farewell to Gary, and it saw me through the most difficult year of my 21, I believe.  Not that it was a bad year--not at all--just that it required a lot of work, in every aspect.  Much of that was aided by this journal.  It has been a great help.  And it has wrapped up much more quickly than I thought it would!  Because of the 50+ pages that I wrote while in India, I now have 3 pages left.  I began the farewell entry yesterday (no tears this time), and I think I'll finish it tonight.  I was hoping to finish it by Valentines Day, though, because I thought that would be an incredibly appropriate day to begin my next journal!

My sweet boyfriend of 1 month, Jared, gave me this journal for Valentines Day.  It is the first journal that I've allowed another person to give me, and it is perfect.  It is precisely what I would have picked out myself--a leather cover with a wrap around tie and lined pages on the inside (I quickly learned that lines are very important to me.  One of my brilliant idiosyncrasies).  I can only imagine the beautiful things that will be poured into these pages...  I have actually been slow to finish the other journal because I want so badly to begin writing in this one--which is completely counter-productive.  Also, the pressure of writing the first page of a journal is kind of ridiculous.  I don't like that part.  So much pressure!  It will forever be the first page of that journal!  But once that's over and done with, the entries pour out.  What a wonderful feeling...

So, you, my dear reader.  Do you journal?  If so, tell me about it!  Let's nerd out about our journals together!  If not, maybe you want to!  In my next post (or one of my next posts--don't want to limit myself) I'll go through some general blogging and journaling guidelines that I've discovered.  Coming soon.  It's like a movie trailer.  Get excited.

I love you.

Cole

Godsend

So, I have this dear, lovely, hilarious, wise coworker friend sister.  She rocks my socks off on a daily basis.

But yesterday, she overdid herself.

She got me a Christmas present.

"Ok..." you may be thinking, but nay.  Ya know how you think about getting someone a Christmas present, and you want it to be perfect--that thing that they want that's not too flashy, but maybe they are unable to get it on their own, but it'll be a true sign of your friendship that you remembered that they wanted it?

Mkay she got me THAT Christmas present.

She found THE tea that I've been longing for--for a year.  Haven't seen it or tasted its glory in a very long time, and SHE FOUND SIX BOXES OF IT!

I thought I was going to cry.

Or maybe that was the impending doom due to being unprepared for a final exam or 2...

Either way, I am incredibly happy right now, sitting at my computer, studying social theory... AND DRINKING HONEY VANILLA WHITE TEA CHAI.

Finals don't look nearly as scary with a cup of tea and a cat at hand.

6:30 am

I fell asleep while reading Durkheim theory excerpts. Contacts in, makeup on, clothes on, teeth needing some love... A candle was also burning. I quickly blew it out when I woke up, but gosh the house smells wonderful now...

This is a stream of consciousness post. Because that's what happens when Cole posts before 9am. Oh hello, cat in my lap. He lounges and purrs so loudly that his whole body vibrates. I have that annoying Train song stuck in my head, replaying the strange part about him wanting to kiss her on her left side brain. That gives me an uncomfortable mental image. And it just keep playing and playing. Just that part. Why do our brains do that? If I'm tired, songs get stuck in my head so much more easily. It's like having my mental tv stuck on the wedding channel--I can't escape it and often I don't like whatever it is that I am hearing.

I want to watch 500 Days of Summer again. I saw a preview for it and I'd forgotten how much I liked that movie. I have red fingernails, and I rarely paint my nails, so the bright color while I type this on my phone is kinda distracting. But it's my favorite color so it is a pleasant distraction. It's a deep, shining red that looks like it was the inspiration for candycane stripes. I can't wait to finish my finals so I can organize my room and think about Christmas! I'm definitely feeling the Christmas spirit this year.

I'm excited for 2011. More excited than I was for 2010. Not sure why. My journal entries about new years last year (this year?) were so draggy, like I could not for the life of me get excited about this year. It's like I knew ahead of time that it would be a rough year.

Ok, more Durkheimian study time. Exam tomorrow, exam Tuesday, 10 page research paper due Tuesday, video project due Tuesday. I can make it through Tuesday. I know I can.

Could you please pray for my mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being for the next week... Thank you :)

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Evening Haikus

Indian Spice tea
Add honey and almond milk
A cup of heaven

Productivity
A foreign concept to me
At least for school work

Damn, what a clean tub
See?  I can be productive.
What can I clean now?

Sleepy black kitty,
You are a cute lazy bum.
Let's snuggle later.

Oh no!  What is this?
I think it's senioritis.
Please, no more papers.

Amazed by stats--of the blogging sort. No math in this post.

I'd just like to say hi to my dedicated Slovenian reader, whoever you are.

And to my Russian reader, though it tells me the traffic source from whence you come is what appears to be an interior design site.  Not really sure about that one.

I mean, you American readers are pretty cool, too, I guess.

:)

I'm fascinated by the blogger stats.  I get super excited about charts and graphs *pushes glasses up nose* so seeing a graph of the number of times people choose to visit my blog ASTOUNDS me.  Like, how is it possible that in September I had 340 visits? 

It's not counting the times that I visit here myself, so you punks who were thinking that can stop it.

Meany faces.

I HAVE FRIENDS!

And a reader in Slovenia!  I may or may not have pulled out a map to see where Slovenia is, exactly.

And here's a bonus bit of info!  I love other people's blogs.  If you have a blog, be it ever so humble, I would love love love to know about it.  I'm a tad attached to my Google Reader, so I can keep up with all of my sites in one place.  It's wildly convenient.  But I visit the actual sites often to comment or just to bump up your page views when I dig a post.

Because now I understand that significance.  I want you to get excited about looking at your blogger stats too :)

That time of the year...

...when I have to relearn how to breathe.

It's also that time of the year that it gets a little chilly, which makes my fingers a little thinner, which means my ring slides around my finger while I type.

It's annoying.

Ok.  That's all the study break I get.  Back to Comte and Spencer and Marx and some poor man with the name Feuerbach.

Breathe in.... Breathe out.... Breathe in.... Breathe out....

I'm alive!

I'm just consumed with things like problematic defiance, criminological verstehen, and Marxist principals of alienation.

It's paper and exam week.

Amazing how hard it is to be all into studying when a) the end is in sight and b) my classes are actually encouraging me to consider how pointless some of these assignments are. Cough cough my social theory class that teaches me things like labor for the sake of earning good grades does nothing to improve my quality life cough cough.

But being fully rested and spending QT with the bf makes me feel pretty good about life. So does playing with babies at church and riding my bike on days like today, only not up hills. So does the idea of pumpkin bread mix hanging out in my pantry, just waiting on me to join it with some water, oil, and eggs.

Oxford commas make me feel pretty good about life too.

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I'm a multifunctional nerd.

Little known fact:  I like doing math/working with numbers.

Now, do I make ridiculous mistakes while doing it?  Yes.  I'm a humanities and social sciences gal, not a math and hard sciences gal.  I'm just not wired to be good at that stuff.  Chemistry and physics?  Shoot me in the face.  Ethnography and theatre?  Loooove it.

But nonetheless, doing math puzzles is a stress reliever.  It's kinda weird.

Roomie just asked for my help figuring out a GPA conundrum.

Four scenarios:  What would GPA be if a) she made a B in this class, b) she made an A in this class, c) she made this a pass/no credit class, and d) she dropped this class and miraculously does better than she expects in this other class.

Did I make about 3 mistakes before arriving at the right answers?  Yes.  But did I get to the answers eventually? Yes. Did I love doing those kind of calculations?  OH yes.  I mean, these 4 answers were a couple of thousandths of points different from one another, but for nerdy folk like us, those minuscule points of points matter.

During finals weeks, I figure out the best and worst case scenarios, class grade- and then GPA- wise.  It's how I de-stress.  Is this normal?  Probably not.  This kind of de-stressing goes with people who are stressed out by zen gardens, love sudoku, and get really competitive when course signup day comes around (I'm cutthroat.  Outa my way).

[Just seeing this stresses me out.  Those lines are not straight!  IT IS DISPLEASING TO THE EYE!  WHERE IS THE ORDER AND STRUCTURE??  OH THE HUMANITY!]


Need a budget plan?  Come find me this time next week.  I'll be prepping for 3 tests and a paper, and I'll be desperate for something to arrange/organize/plan/calculate.

I wish studying and paper-writing were de-stressing for me.  They're quite the opposite, though.  They're distressing.

Talk It Out

Ya know how sometimes you just need to exhale words in large quantities to make life feel a little bit less heavy?

That was your warning.

My things to do list is taking over. Big things to do.  Not just "vacuum your room, Cole" --though that is on the list-- but rather things like, "fill out 10 page Pioneers formal application," and, "construct a list of people to send a support letter to, so I can start raising funds for a trip to India that's possibly happening in, oh, 4 months."  Other thing on the list include:

-graduating from college, which means

-muscling through one last semester of papers and exams while retaining some ounce of sanity

-doing lay counseling at my church, which requires being prayerfully and mentally prepared for each session--no exceptions

-planning a mission trip to India so I can answer God's call

-praying feverishly for peace about whatever comes AFTER graduation (please don't ask.  I have no idea.  I'm leaving it in God's capable hands, and that's a trust that doesn't come naturally to me).

I'm one of those people that can get stuff done, but when there's a whole lot of big stuff that is hovering over me, I start to shut down.  I get overwhelmed by the seemingly insurmountable obstacles stopping me up and all I want to do is curl into the fetal position.

Fun fact--not much gets done when one is in the fetal position.

And I don't have to literally be in the fetal position to be doing some really impressive avoiding.  In fact, I can seem to be very high functioning, going through all the daily movements that are necessary.  But often I'm ignoring the bigger, more important things on that "to do" list.  Because thinking about it all feels like too much, and I can't imagine it all getting done with the right amount of attention and care given to each element as is due.

It's a pretty dumb cycle.  It only serves to make me even more behind or pressed for time on those really important things.

Even my writing gets cyclical.

Gets cyclical even my writing.