WordArt

Look! New Pictures!

2008-12-15T22:03:00.000-08:00

I know, I know, I've been promising art and delivered nothing. In lieu of art, I bring you personal photos of my fun, friends, and adventures... You are SO welcome.

Visit my picasa albums and see for yourself all the fun I'm having.

The world is in chaos and my life is fruitless... now is the time for art, no?

2008-09-30T22:51:00.000-07:00

So, yeah, it's been a while.

Someone told me once that as artists we don't create when we're happy, because we're busy being happy. I suppose lately I have been busy being happy. I'm not unhappy now. But I'm not busy with the happy stuff, either. Just busy. With the busy stuff.

So, soon there will be art. Because I need it. I need to be alive again. I need to be human again. I need to create again. Sorry it's not about you. I mean I'd love for you to have it, feel it, let it make you a little more alive somehow. But I'm telling you it's coming because I need it.

New GoogleMaps Feature Blows My Mind

2008-06-03T11:58:00.000-07:00

... Like I'm picking up pieces of my brain off my desk as I type this.

Okay that's gross, but this is very cool. For us very visual direction takers, GoogleMaps has made it even easier for us to know where we're going with a visual play-by-play.

Maybe this is old news to some of you major gGeeks out there (Mike Morabito), but I just noticed it today while I was working. I was trying to figure out one of the locations that I ship to, and I pulled up a map from Brea to there, and saw all these little cameras on the directions. I clicked on one, and was amazed to find a little flash photo of the move with arrows showing how to make the move. You can even click on the arrows to see what happens next!

ooh.
aah.
wow.

Amazing.

Probably even cooler if you have an iPhone.

Damn, those applemongers got me again!

Happy Mapping!

--Court

Help My Boyfriend Win the Competition!

2008-05-30T12:27:00.000-07:00

My amazing boyfriend, Mike Morabito, has an awesome opportunity to win a Search Engine Marketing competition, but he needs you help.

Go to his blog moreburritos.com, RIGHT NOW and read about it! Then go to his article and give him some feedback.

It's pretty brilliant-- you won't be disappointed.

Thanks, team!

Courtney

AJ Shares His Ears With YOU

2008-05-29T10:38:00.000-07:00

Hey Folks!

My good friend AJ Harbison has started a new blog, called The Listening Blog, where he, an up-and-coming composer, shares his listenings with you, the humble-hopeful and musically-interested.

You should check it out, and leave feedback. Let AJ know how you like his listens and what you think he should listen to next!

Happy reading!

Courtney

Mix of the Month-May: Based on a True Story

2008-05-21T18:00:00.000-07:00

May's Mix is a sadder mix for me. This mix is based on a true story of a love that was many things to me, but never right. It is a story of what I wanted love to be, what I needed love to be, and in the end, what it never could be for me. It was a love that ended as it began, and it is the end of that love that this story is about. The slow awakening to the death of a thing, a fight, and a mourning. Finally a healing and a new awakening.

This mix is for who still aren't sure why love songs can be sad songs. For those who don't yet know why Chris Martin's voice is so sad, and who don't think that Fake Plastic Love makes any sense, and think we're all just being dramatic. This mix is from me, to you, and the feelings are real.

And for those who know it all too well, but could never put a tune to it--this mix is for you.

Based on a True Story
Compiled by Courtney Patino

Your Eyes Open – Keane
Fix You – Coldplay
Tangerine – Led Zeppelin
Comfortable – John Mayer
That Particular Time- Alanis Morissette
Stay or Leave – Dave Matthews
Nice to Know You – Incubus
Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground – The White Stripes
Fake Plastic Trees – Radiohead
Two More Years – Bloc Party
Congratulations – Blue October, Imogen Heap
Run – Snow Patrol

My Blog is Prettier Now

2008-04-26T11:34:00.001-07:00

But I guess you already know that, since you're looking at it now.

Those of you reading in Reader... you'd better get over here and check me out.

Love ya!
Court

Mix of the Month-April: Bubblegum Lovesongs

2008-04-21T18:00:00.000-07:00

Bubblegum Lovesongs
Compiled by Courtney Patino

All My Loving- Paul McCartney
Suzie Q- Creedence Clearwater Revival
Gamble Everything for Love- Ben Lee
No Good Without You- Tyrone Wells
She’s Electric- Oasis
We’re Going to Be Friends- The White Stripes
Knees of My Bees- Alanis Morissette
British Legion-Kasabian
Oh- Dave Matthews
Anyone Else But You- The Moldy Peaches

This mix is exactly what it seems: A bunch of feel-good, lip-smacking love songs.

It’s funny because I think we grow up thinking, “Yeah, that’s what love’s going to be,” and then we get heartbroken and disappointed and sad and cool and say, “That was such crap, everyone should know better, including the tool who wrote that song,” and then we fall in love and realize that the tool who wrote that song knew exactly what he was talking about.

Funny.

A Perfect Day...

2008-03-30T22:37:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning, Mike and I woke up at my house and got ready for a wonderful day. It was already warm, so we got to dress for summer. We met downstairs and had a hearty breakfast with my family. After a relaxing morning, we were excited to get out and play.

We swung by Jamba Juice for a boost of delicious fruit and energy, and then drove up to San Merino to the Huntington Library. The library is really an estate with incredible gardens and the buildings converted to art museums. It was super bright and hot, so we ducked into one of the museums to wait for it to cool down a little.

First we checked out the American art. We saw so many beautiful and interesting paintings, including a reproduction of a painting of George Washington that we had seen on our trip. We love stuff like that, so we really enjoyed it.

The next building was an exhibit about the history of roses and about how varieties have been developed over the centuries and across the world. There were even smelling-stations, where we were able to smell some different rose varieties that were bred for their scents. It was really cool. We went outside and wrote in our idea books and then Mike took some great pictures with my camera.

Next, we moved into the old-but-newly-renovated conservatory, which is now a giant greenhouse. The main section was the rainforest. It reminded me of some of the places I saw in Costa Rica, with the big trees and big leaves and bright flowers. Mike and I made our way down the spiraling ramp as misters turned on occasionally to keep the “rain forest” nice and humid. This building was full of information and cool ways to learn while we played.

We climbed up from the forest floor to the ground level; where we were able to look at flowers up close to learn more about what the parts are and what they do. I got to tap into my memory of plant biology to explain some of it to Mike. He was super interested in learning it, and he even wrote some things down in his idea book.

The next room we went to in the greenhouse was a learning lab. Here we saw how seeds travel, how pollination works, how animals and plants interact, and about the life stages of a plant. It was pretty much awesome, and my mind was totally blown by how interested Mike was in all of it. I have to say, nerdy guys really catch my attention, and when they are good looking too, that just seals the deal. I guess it just made me so excited to think that someone could actually get me the way he does, and enjoy the things I geek out about. After the learning room, we checked out the cloud forest and the bog room, where we got to learn about carnivorous plants and epiphytes, which are plants that live on other plants, without being parasitic.
Narrowly avoiding death by carnivorous plant, we escaped to the café, were we had some lunch. After that, we snapped a few more photos of some of the beautiful plants and trees and then made our way through the not-yet-blooming rose garden to the Japanese garden.

The Japanese garden is hilly and spread out. A stream divides this garden into two sides and on the far side, there is a display of a traditional tea room. There were a lot of people in this part of the grounds—it is obviously a favorite spot for people who come to the library regularly. Not finding a place to hang out, we continued walking through the Japanese garden. At the northern edge, we walked through another gateway and found ourselves in the beautiful new Chinese garden.
There were many structures in this garden, as well as trees and plants. There were small pagodas with benches inside and some bridges, each with a symbolic name written in both Chinese and English. This garden was also a little crowded, so we searched hard for a perfect spot to sit and enjoy the beauty of the garden. We found a bench of the hillside, overlooking the lake and bridges, and of course all of the people who were savoring the sunshine. We took out our idea books and sketched pictures of what we saw. It was a nice creative time, and something that we had never done before.
Finally, the library closed and docents came around asking everyone to leave. We picked up our things and walked slowly out. It had been an amazing day already. We had so much fun just being together and seeing all of the beautiful things. We saw art, history, and science in a free, open, and beautiful format.

But, our wonderful day together was not nearly over. We drove over to downtown Pasadena, where we planned to hang out and grab some dinner. As I narrated directions and looked for a parking space, Mike told me that we had dinner reservations at 6:30! I had no idea that he had made reservations, so I was totally floored. What a stud, getting us reservations at a nice restaurant and leaving me clueless until the last minute! This day was just getting better and better.

We parked and had some tea, and took a leisurely walk toward the restaurant, falling in love with Pasadena as we went. It was really clean and fun and seemed to have plenty of cool places to hang out. Finally, we arrived at Bistro 45 on Mentor Ave. Although we were terribly underdressed, our beaming smiles and excitement may have caught the mater’di off-guard enough that he graciously escorted us to our seats. I was so excited to be having such a wonderful dinner (I just new it would be wonderful) after an already amazing day. As we sat down, we were given an anniversary card from the restaurant, which was super-sweet. We had our water glasses filled with mineral water while we took in the lovely ambiance. We perused the menu and wine lists and finally determined what we would have. Our server was sweet and patient. We ordered a bottle of Chianti to get us started, along with some fresh homemade ravioli. After much deliberation, Mike ordered the Angus Steak and I ordered the special Duck with orange sauce. When our food arrived, Mike and I were both struck by the perfect presentation and the amazing combination of flavors that we tasted. Everything tasted so wonderful, it was impossible not to finish, although it was very rich. Despite being full, we had to order dessert for our special day. More deliberation. I ordered the “Chocolate Soup”—a chocolate soufflé with hot fudge and vanilla ice cream. Mike got the berry crème brulee with cookies. The funnest part was that our plates had “Happy 1st Anniversary” written in chocolate! It was so special. We took some pictures, talked about how much we like each other, and finally decided to go back toward home.

On the way toward the car, we passed a record shop, so we popped in to look for cheap CDs and cool vinyl. We looked around and each ended up taking home a handful of CDs that we thought we would like. It was a fun little adventure within an adventure.

We walked back to the car and did some math about how soon we would have to be sleeping in order to get up in time for Easter. We had been enjoying our time together so much it was hard to agree to end it, but we would get to celebrate Easter together in the morning; and we both know that we are at our best when well rested.

Mike dropped me off at home, and I quickly fell asleep smiling about the wonderful day that we had. I remembered how excited we were about the weather, and how surprised we were to see George Washington again. I laughed about our pollination lesson and sighed thankfully that Mike did not lose his finger to a carnivorous piece of grass. I giggled thinking about the way Mike says, “You’re so beautiful,” and how it melts my heart every time.

It was a magically wonderful day: a perfect day.

To see more pictures of this day and other photos that I take, please visit my photo gallery by clicking on the "Pictures I Take" link to your right.

Pitting Cherries is Woman's Work

2007-08-17T22:55:00.000-07:00

There is something very beautifully human about working with fruit. We are like all living things in so many ways, fruit being one of them. And yet I have the opportunity as the human type of living thing, to consider the color of the juice as an aesthetic, to consider the feeling of ripping pit from flesh as uncomfortably permanent, to consider the end--in my case consumption of the tart juice, and it's nutrients-- while I participate in the human activity of separating the pit from the cherry.

The body craves nutrients. The body knows what has them, and it craves these things. When I am hungry for meat, I need protein, when I am hungry for greens I need iron, when I am hungry for red fruits I need whatever vitamins in them that they have to offer... and so I find them. Today it is in the crisper drawer of my refrigerator. Hardly the scavenger I once was, but here I am reminded that I am still a child in many ways, as my own mother, a woman who keeps her family fed, has filled this refrigerator with the things she instinctively knows that we will need. Out with the cherries, I need them.

Working with our hands is intrinsically rewarding. To look back, hands bloodied by ripe fruit, and say, I have accomplished that, I have made that, I have conquered that; this is a reward. The gifts of being made in the image of a god; perspective, ego, a love for our own work. I pitted a bowl of cherries. It is not the quaint folk art of your great-grandmother. But I do wonder if that virginic godess felt the way I feel now. If while she made your uncles pie, she struggled with the pride that comes with creation, with the tearing of one fruit to feed your own. I can only hope that she did. And while they called her a good woman, she new much more deeply what it meant. And hoped that I would someday know it as she did. She is a good woman, she does what she ought, they say--never knowing that strongest moral value was the feeling of greatness within her, that her work was power, not because it bought her place in a society of pie eaters, but because she pitted cherries and chose to let herself experience the glory of it.

I choose juice over pie. I like juice. It's easy to drink, easy to make, delicious. It unlocks the complexity of fruits of a variety of colors and textures and allows them to sit together in a cup, open to being enjoyed for purely their flavor and nutritious value. The options are limitless. Fruits and vegetables of every type can be juiced together or separately and served blended, chilled, hot, frozen; whatever suits the body's desire. I create and I consume. Sometimes I create and I share. That is an entirely other pleasure from that of simply creating. But today I am consuming on my own. And it is delicous. A blend of cherry, grape, and blueberry juice. This smooth but tangy glass of red-violet beverage is full of antioxidants, vitamins, fiber, and plenty of pride. Good for the body, good for the spirit, and I believe, altogether, good for the soul.

A couple of poems for the good readers of my blog

2007-08-11T06:30:00.000-07:00

Poetry, it's what's for breakfast. Bon Appetit.

Abandonment Is Guilt Free Here

You should have left
Without saying goodbye
Goodbye
Said like that
Means something
It means that the part between
That and hello
Meant something
Hello
Something Meaningful
Goodbye
Like that
But you are going
And I am pretending
Nothing means anything
But you want to say goodbye
Like that
So how can I go on
Pretending
When we both know the truth
And it is a shame
When a person feels guilt
That the space between
Has meaning

This Town

This town hasn’t got it anymore
Whatever a town’s got to have
To make me want it
This town just hasn’t got it anymore

I used to be in love here
I used to think that’s what the lights were for
I thought this was where we might dance
But it turns out this town hasn’t got it anymore

Not sure if it’s anyone’s fault
Or if it happens to all towns
Maybe just the ones I’ve lived in
Whatever the case may be
This towns one that hasn’t got it anymore

The buildings stopped glowing at the edges
For-sale signs aren’t romantic
I feel like a stranger again
Walking fast downtown
This town never let me do that
But now it does
So I guess it hasn’t got it anymore

Maybe there will be other towns
Even cities
Maybe there will be other dreams
Even love
There’s only one way to find out
I’ve gotta leave the town that hasn’t got it anymore.

Rides at Raging with Rolene Rule!

2007-08-05T17:18:00.000-07:00

Saturday, Mike, Jolene, Ryan, and I went to Raging Waters in San Dimas, CA for an action packed day of water park fun. We went on almost every ride (ignoring the ones that were not cool, of course) and got some serious thrills.

Some of the highlights included:

The Speed Slides- you can imagine that these are fast slides. yes they are. very fast.

The Lunch Factor- we had bacon wrapped hot dogs and chicken strips. and horchata. yeah.

The Till You Drop- we rocked Raging Waters from nearly opening till closing. slowing down is for pansies.

The Post Park Dinner- we had a great dinner at El Farolito in Placentia, CA. meat is good.

Overall it was an awesome day with some very cool friends. Raging waters is a fun place, and if you're planning on going you should be sure and cash in on the AAA discount, the buy-your-tickets-online-3-days-early-discount, or the buy-a-day-get-another-day-free-discount. I mean, you'd be silly not to.

Alright now, get out there, get watery and have a good time!

Courtney

GO Acoustic

2007-08-05T16:53:00.000-07:00

Friday night, Mike and I went to a stellar even at Rock Harbor church called Go Acoustic. It was a magical evening of up close and awesome music with artists who donated their performances to raise money for Habitat for Humanity in support of the church's GO Campaign. The GO Campaign is an effort by Rock Harbor to give ourselves away in 2 ways: 1) to raise 1 million dollars this year to give to 12 specific causes (donating 150,000 of that to Habitat for Humanity) and 2) to send people on mission trips in 4 major "outposts" ongoing for 6 months.

It was rad to be a part of this event because it supported something I really care about, people living in poverty, and it also gave me a chance to hear some great music; some new to me, and some classic in my heart. Every artist was absolutely great. I encourage you to check out their myspace profiles:

I personally really enjoyed their music, and the venue was awesome. It is a rare treat for me to get to see good artists perform in a place that is nice and cozy along with people who love music and helping people so much.

Rock on.

Courtney

Picking Favorites

2007-07-29T15:11:00.000-07:00

Everyone loves a good favorites list-- especially me.

I can name my favorite pretty much anything--except my favorite movie! I end up loving so many movies for a million different reasons: It made me laugh so hard, I felt like I could totally relate, I wish I could be like that, I learned so much, It made me feel alive. To determine my favorite movies, I will be thinking of movies that I've seen that I would watch again, recommend to others, and that, for some reason, strike me as special among all the movies I've seen.

At this point I can look at movies I own because I just had to see them again, and while there seem to be a million that I love or would love to see again, I have painstakingly broken it down to the final 12 favorites.

Star Wars (The originals: notably V, The Empire Strikes Back), The Bourne Identity/Spy Game, The Constant Gardener, Big Fish/Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Holiday/The Devil Wears Prada/ In Her Shoes,Garden State, Ever After/ Moulin Rouge

I know, it's crazy... that's just how it happened in my brain, all messy and connected like that.

So now let me try to order them using some kind of reasonable standard... hmmm...

Star Wars and Ever After both have classic story lines and are movies I loved when I was quite young.

The Bourne Identity and Spy Game are both action packed adventures that I could watch over and over.

The Constant Gardener always felt important, I love the acting, I love the Africa.

Garden State changed my life, I think.

Big Fish and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory both appeal to my love of imagination, journeys, and fate.

Ever After and Moulin Rouge are both aesthetically delightful in different ways, and make me believe crazy things about romantic love.

The "Chick Flicks" feel good, include things about womanhood that a typical romantic comedy ignores, and are always good for a Girls Night.

...processing...

Alright, these things considered, these are my 12 favorite movies in order:

1. Moulin Rouge
2. The Constant Gardener
3. Ever After
4. Big Fish
5. Garden State
6. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
7. Spy Game
8. The Bourne Identity
9. The Holiday
10. The Devil Wears Prada
11. In Her Shoes
12. Star Wars-Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back

So, now I guess we both know a little more about me. Now tell me some of your favorites...

--Courtney

Becoming a Ggirlfriend

2007-07-05T00:51:00.000-07:00

While I was spending some wind-down time with the dogs tonight (I'm house sitting this week along with beautiful black labs Bella and Bailey), I decided to reevaluate my e-situation.

My boyfriend is a super Ggeek (or at least aspiring to be one), and is always sharing things that he is learning and doing to be more efficient, better informed, and basically "geeking to live". I love learning from him, but haven't really spent too much time applying what I've learned. Tonight I took a few simple steps in the right direction, by getting myself a Gmail email address, and setting up my iGoogle homepage where I can keep my calendar, email, reader, weather, and news on one easy to update page. I also set up my Google picasa account this week, so I have basically converted my whole e-life into a Glife.

Isn't that geek-tastic?

Now, I know it's really not that impressive or hardcore, but it's a new move for me, so I'm feeling pretty stoked about it. There is also something pretty relaxing and chi about having everything in little light blue boxes... so now I think I'm ready for bed.

Hope you all had a great independence day and got to see some good fireworks. I do believe in magic. And I believe that you should vote Mike Morabito for president in 2016.

Love.

Courtney

Some Shoeboxes Full

2007-06-14T23:30:00.000-07:00

“If I die, can you make sure and give my bottle cap collection to the guy at the Auto Body shop?” My mother glares at me, and I know, once again, that I have made the stupidest statement in the history of language or something. Oh well. “You can just do whatever you want with the rest of my stuff, but I really want Terry to get those.” Something strikes me as right about it. He emerges in my mind as the only human thing about the whole accident.

“Can you take her back?”
“Sure. Right this way. I’m Terry.”
“I’m Courtney. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.” Nervous laughter. My eyes roll behind my huge bug-eye sunglasses.
“Right. So, this is your baby, here?”
“Yep, that’s my girl.”
“’92 is my favorite year for the Cherokee.”
“Yea, mine too—there shouldn’t be much left in here, just need this, and I guess I’ll take these bottle caps for my collection.”
“Oh, you collect bottle caps? Me too! How many do you have?”
“Hmmm, I guess probably like four shoeboxes full. My friends collect them for me too.”
“That’s great. I probably have like two or three shoe boxes.”
“Nice. Well, good luck with that. ‘Nice to meet you. Thanks.”

There was something validating about the way he acknowledged the value of my things. He liked the things that I did in the way that I did. Suddenly human interactions were more than collisions that left cars irreparably damaged and bodies mangled across asphalt. Value was measurable in favorites and shoeboxes-full; not dollars-worth of damage, percentage of fault, or miles per hour.

My heart warmed for the first time in days and I smiled, pushing my numb cheek into my swollen eye, squeezing out tears that had been loitering there.

But these feelings and values don’t translate; so here I am, trying to convince my mother that Terry at Brea Auto Body should have my bottle cap collection in the event of my untimely death. She says she’ll use them to cover my coffin, although I’ve told her I’d rather be cremated. Cremated and put in my Bubba Gump hurricane glass—after the bottle caps are taken out.

But I’ll probably live for a while, and I don’t think I could give Terry my bottle caps if I wasn’t dead. I would be too embarrassed. So they’ll probably get used to cover my coffee table at my first home, and then it will break and my partner will want a nicer new one, so they’ll end up dumped, like the trash they were to begin with.

It’s funny how things come full circle like that.

Transit and Libraries: Public Rocks

2007-06-05T23:13:00.000-07:00

I'm back on the bus again, after months in my little antisocial bubble. The best part of riding the bus for the last couple days is that I have finally almost finished reading A Passage to India, a seriously great book by E.M. Forster that takes place during the British occupation of India. It is so good, and now that I have finally gotten past the part that I have read to 3 times now over the last 3 years, it is even better!

Next stop, the Fullerton Public Library, to pick up some new novels for free. Embrace the free world with me, friends. But don't just do it because I said so, because it turns out that communism with a boss is fascism. Hahaha.

C

May I have a word?

2007-06-04T22:41:00.000-07:00

Writing is what I ought to do. I know this, and it’s just something I should be doing. My struggle with writing comes from a common sense of the bucket hitting the bottom of the well and coming up dry, a lack of fortitude to finish a thought that I’ve started, a fear of the ever critical reader (yes, that’s you… no, I don’t know if you’re really being critical or generous, and I may never know!—that’s the problem). I scrounge through the desert of my mundane experience for pieces that give me enough flavor to make broth with, hoping my imagination and practice will add some substance to it. I grow bored with the project, assuming we will all find something else to consume if we wander just a little further. Finally, if a piece makes its way through the machine and on to the plate, I am afraid to let it out of the kitchen, for fear that it will seem trivial or overstated or commonplace, or even for fear that no one will notice that it is there at all.

Sometimes I’ll be walking down the street, or maybe chewing breakfast cereal, or observing some natural phenomenon or another; and the most interesting subject will come to mind. And I will spend the most fascinated 3 seconds of my life exploring the idea and thinking about all that I should someday write about it. And in about that long the idea is quite gone, replaced in my conscious space by some shiny object or a butterfly or a very cool sneaker.

So then, let’s write these down. Things that I may someday, and now we all know ought to, write about. You should participate here, because the fact is you should all be reading these someday. and when I say should I mean ought to, because that’s the kind of language we use around here.

Things I can remember so far…

A piece of cross-gender relationships that I started several months ago and became disinterested with for lack of information (that supported my desired conclusion).

A piece on the difference of experience between time spent with many people and time spent with few.

An exploration of friendships of different types and values and natures that I have encountered.

An exploration of fruit juicing of different types and values and natures that I have encountered.

A journaly type expedition through my final stand at the home of my parents for the next two and a half months.

Okay, your turn. Otherwise I will just start ripping ideas of all of your blogs. and you don’t want that to happen. Like, it ought not.

C

Good Music & Things Caught In My Mind

2007-05-27T12:20:00.000-07:00

Don't Go Away- Oasis (1997)

Cold and frosty morning there's not a lot to say
About the things caught in my mind
And as the day was dawning my plane flew away
With all the things caught in my mind

I don't wanna be there when you're ... Coming down
I don't wanna be there when you hit the ground

So dont go away, say what you say Say that you'll stay
Forever and a day ... In the time of my life
Cos I need more time, yes I need more time just to make things right

Damn my situation and the games I have to play
With all the things caught in my mind
Damn my education I can't find the words to say
With all the things caught in my mind

Me and you whats going on?
All we seem to know is how to show
The feelings that are wrong

I heard this song at the gym the other day and it's been stuck in my head. I sometimes wonder how long it will take for me to get all the things uncaught from in my mind. And if it could ever be too late. And what to do in the meantime. I know I'm not alone in it anymore, but it still feels like a lonely place to be stuck, with nothing quite to say, and nothing quite to do, but be and wait. With all the things caught in my mind.

From what I can tell, it's on.

2007-05-18T01:15:00.000-07:00

I hear that when you decide in your heart that what you want most is to be open to God and to know Him, the Enemy is most threatened and ready to attack. It makes unavoidable sense, and from what I can tell, it's on.

We sat around the table Tuesday night and we shared our hearts a little. It's been a good run. 5 months now, of a commited pursuit of God and His heart, in ways we have never known to seek Him before. We have only a few weeks left, and during this time a most focused regimen will be sought, revealed, and followed as we learn to put on Christ in new ways.

And the truth is that I'm nervous. I am excited, because I know that God's promises are good and that fruit cannot help but grow from the branch that abides in the Vine. But for a girl who likes to be the chillest thing around, I find myself anxious that I don't know what God will do. I don't know who He will make me, now that He has secured His identity in my heart.

I find myself praying this picture. This image of the human heart with a seed planted deep inside. And the dry seed sits for some time in this dark empty hollow way, and finally, roots emerge and stems emerge and a deep green plant begins to fill the hollow. Slowly, but surely, the appendages of this plant reach the edges of the heart and begin to seep beyond its edges, until a great plant has grown-- its branches mirroring its roots in size and extention. The leaves glisten and fruit begins to develop on the branches. Such beautiful fruit that its taste is unquestionably exotic and sweet and nourishing, and the seeds within long to burrow themselves deep in rich soil.

I feel more and more that my soul, once connected with the Holy Spirit becomes like the seed of a plant. It is the only analogy that feels right. I am nothing, and then we are seed, and then we are dried and prepared, and then we (the Spirit and I) are planted in my human heart, and then we grow out, and we dig deep and we grow up and we reach to the depths of my being and to the heights of the world's edge and we are meant to live with shiny green leaves and we bear fruit and it is delicious. And where the fruit is consumed the Spirit falls to the earth and continues Its work.

I know it's happening. Whether or not I feel the lush green liveness going on inside, it is happening always-- we are growing. And the more that I want health and growth, the more the Enemy seeks to devour me at the root. Sometimes cloudy days come to disable photosynthetic process, and sometimes pests come and devour my shiny green leaves, and sometimes it's a fungus, and sometimes it's a dry season, and sometimes a flood threatens to wash the ground away. But we are an organism that does not die like that. We survive everything and thrive for the glory of God. Because function wins in evolutionary theory, and this is ours.

And finally the analogies of warfare make sense to my ecologically trained mind. And I remember that God knows me and stirs my heart with the same images that were in His own heart before there was earth and plants.

And I remember that I am so very small. And that there is so much more going on than I can ever fully grasp. But that the very simple truth is a reality of God and His Love. And this is very much enough.

2007-04-08T10:18:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time my very best friend, Deborah Rose Camp, moved to Colorado to go to graduate school to become a Speech Language Pathologist. Upon a time about 7 months later, I decided to come out and visit for Easter. The ever-hot Mike Morabito took me to the airport one very early morning and I rushed to get into the line that the distracted United Airlines attendant told me to get in. I waited in the long line with plenty of other nervous flyers, only to be told 10 minutes before my flight was to board (I hadn't even been through security yet) that they couldn't take my bag because all bags must be taken 45 minutes before departure. Screw it. I decide to abandon my fluid containers over 3 ounces, and luckily the super-boyfriend (promoted from regular boyfriend status) came and saved me from tossing the entire Clinique skincare line in the airport community toiletry shopping basket. I squeeze through security, listening closely for any final calls about my flight. After running barefoot and beltless through the gate area to my gate, I am told that I am simply too late and that I'll have to take the next flight. It's 6:45, the next flight is at 7:35, oh wait... delays... no crew, hmmm, make that 11:35, or 12:35. What-ever.

Finally I got to Denver and found my way out of the airport (It's not easy, really). It was something like 28 degrees outside. It felt like cold. I was greeted at the curb by my beautiful friend who is sporting a cute new haircut. She took me to her lovely home in Greeley by way of Quiznos for late lunch. We immediately slipped into our comfortable way of living. This includes hanging around and talking, eating whatever we want, randomly bursting out into giggles or the appropriate Kelly Clarkson song. Finally we fell asleep. It's nice to be with a friend.

We woke up at 7. Okay, make that 7ish for me. Wishing that it wasn't foggy and freezing out, we opted for jeans and sweaters rather than Easter dresses. We didn't feel too bad about this until we got to church and saw that we were outdone by every girl 12 and under in the entire city of Greeley. What-ever girls. Do what you want. We're cold. Church on Easter is just really good. Nothing like sharing the most hopeful and significant Christian holiday, with a community of believers. And Deborah's church is just really cool. It's called Christ Community and we really like it. You should come sometime.

After church we came home to get ready for brunch with the girls. By "the girls" I mean some of the girls from Deborah's program who happen to be incredibly cool. There are some more, but today we had: Jamie from Ohio who loves Byron, Lauren from Alaska who stresses out when she is stressed out, Randi from Hawaii who doesn't take crap from anyone, Deborah who is very lovely and put together, and Me who likes to be around for all the fun parts. As we prepped the casserole and set the table it began to snow. I like snow because I never see it.

The girls from out here were less impressed... but it was still pretty cool.

Brunch was delicious with our casserole, fruit salad (no melon!), bacon, and monkey bread (a caramelly, cinnamon pull-apart bread thing).

After brunch we all sat around being full and then people went their separate ways to take naps and enjoy the holiday. Deborah and I decided to watch a movie. This was a great week for movies.

Blogging stopped being fun on about Tuesday. I have been working on Deborah's computer, so I can't sit around doing this as much as I would if My Sexy Computer was out here. (I capitalize it, because that is the proper name of my computer.) For that reason, here is a recap of some important features of my week.

The weather ranged from snowing on Sunday to sunny and pretty on Monday to frozen rain on Thursday and back to freezing cold and snowish on Friday.

I watched 5 movies while in Colorado. Notting Hill, Princess Diaries, Princess Diaries II, The Holiday, and 50 First Dates. Deborah is the best chick-flick-er ever. So if you ever need to borrow a flick or just want to hang with someone who is always down to watch a chick flick, feel free to call up Deb. I have been caught up on some much needed chick-flickery. Ask Mike Morabito soon about which of my favorite chick-flicks he has had the pleasure of being coerced into watching with me. :) (okay, maybe not, but I will try.)

Cool places in Greeley include:
The liquor shop next to Safeway, The new McDonalds with the dual drive in, Margie's Java Joint, Salvador Deli, Sushi One, Roma's Pizzeria, Dazbog Coffee, Christ Community Church, and of course Deborah's house.

Okay, finally, I've been home for a week, it's time you all knew what went down in CO. Hope you enjoyed it. I know I did. Thanks Deborah, for an awesome time in your new hometown!

I will never be the same

2007-02-25T21:23:00.000-08:00

It feels just like this (ignore the ad, it's worth the wait. watch the whole thing.)

My days end in fireworks and I hug decorated elephants and make up the rules to risk and have 14 young boys tell me "goodnight, we love you" as they fall asleep.

I have not stopped smiling all day.

I could get used to being this happy. I am very okay with it. It doesn't mean I'm not dangerous. It doesn't mean I'm forgetting where I've been and that I'm broken. But I am more than that. And it is time to be glad about it. To live now and let Love in.

Sparkles fall like fairy dust and I am not afraid of magic. Call it fire and I tell you it burns with more energy than you've ever met. I think maybe my heart is made of fireworks. Maybe I should get that checked out. But I'd hate to become some medical project. Why don't we just keep it our gigantic secret.

I have this condition

2007-02-24T02:34:00.000-08:00

Funny, Teal and I used to say this all the time, "Well, you see I have this condition." It was after we saw Memento. He would say it when he would forget things. I would never forget things. That was my condition.

The trouble is that there are so many forgettable things in life. So many infinitely small points in my day, and they are all (on days like today) filled with reasons and internal dialogue, and so my days become dense, incredibly dense, and I get sucked under them like quicksand.

Today has been the longest loneliest day of my life. And that is a lie. I have lived lifetimes in this way. At least years, maybe a decade, but I cannot remember.

But I thought it all was over. I have been medicated and trying for two years, and I was beginning to forget how much it hurts, to have every moment stuck to you like a thorn. Like being covered with spines that point inward.

Now I am back to my organic state and I hurt like hell. It's like missing something I haven't ever had. I am homesick for my dreams. But it feels so much worse than I can describe. I am not the only one hurting. Not from my condition, but the ones that I am homesick for.

But I will not forget you, those who I dream of. Your pain is greater, your need so much more than my simple discomfort will keep me from. I have been called to you and I will meet you there. Not in my wholeness. I do not have it to give to you, I'm sorry. But I will be there soon, to give to you in my brokenness. All the more to celebrate because in my unwholeness God's fullness is perfect, is whole, is enough, satisfying. Enough for me, and more importantly for you. You, who wait for His Love.

I cannot wait until we meet. My condition will not disappear, but somehow I am certain it will fade when I am finally able to see your glowing faces. Then I will tell you all of my stories. You will learn about this guy in my stories, you will learn about my family and my friends, you will learn about my God. The One whose love has set me running to you.

I will not forget you. You see I have this condition.

Last one and we'll call it An Afternoon

2007-02-20T22:37:00.000-08:00

In Afternoons my thoughts are sent
to time
and time passing
Remind me to capture
every moment
before night freezes us

In this light (this Afternoon light) we see
what we made
or how we wasted
the gift of Morning

(You and I), I hope we will say
we made ours
worth every drop
of sweet honey gold
pouring down
on our lip-licking delicious Afternoon

We laid out the makings
of breath stealing sunsets
we planted trees
to silhouette them right
in the photographs we will take
this Afternoon

We followed the heart's path
all the way to the place
Heaven pours down, watering freedom

And all afternoon
we will dance like crazy
We will breathe more deeply
to see more clearly
We will climb every tree
We will taste every fruit

This afternoon was made
for us
(Doubtlessly), it is ours
It is exactly as we like it
Just like we asked Santa
(like that girl on 34th street)

Of course it is ours
(of course it is ours)
We dreamed it up
and love let it all
come
true

I can't wait
to make the most
of our big day
(and it's only dawning!)
I cant' wait to say
We've had such a good morning
Now let's explore what's ours
this Afternoon

My Love Drives Nature to Jealous Antics

2007-02-20T22:33:00.000-08:00

Silver, Gold, Diamonds
The jewelry of a fickle goddess
Exposed here mid afternoon
Washed out as ready to faint

Maybe it is only glare
But perhaps she is sickened
At my secret other satisfaction
Oh the Vanity of Nature!

I told her I had seen a lovelier view
I told her I had tasted a sweeter fruit
I told her I had felt a warmer touch
Than her Sun’s distant glow could offer

Pale she is this afternoon
Desaturating the yellow of sky
Fading the blue-green water
Jealous, the bitter lover schemes

Swearing my return
She winks her thousand eyes at sea
Kisses my lips to leave a salty sting

And maybe she has lured back
The hearts of pale romantics
And the fools or simple hearted
With these embarrassing dramatics

But I will not be taken
For now, I know a truer beauty
A soul: a kaleidoscope of treasures
Pouring pleasure into my own

His heart has redefined the spectrum
Intensity must be rescaled
My senses wake to a foreign language
But my own heart knows it well

My love is more handsome than her finest sunset
My love is more satisfying than her finest valley’s offerings
My love delights my heart with his mind, body, and spirit
His affection drowns out the song of her most calculated breeze

Maybe I still love ink? or I am a medium whore.

2007-02-20T22:13:00.000-08:00

Some day's I go straight for the word doc
Some days it's got to be in pencil
Other days I want it all in pen
blue, ball point, no black, roller ball

Some days it's the word doc in Garamond
Some days it's the journal page in black pen
Once it was notebook paper in aqua roller ball
number three pencil on a church bulletin

So there you are, holding your breath
Each medium questioning my silence,
but never my faithfulness
When really I was always getting my soul out somewhere

And now I re-collect it,
from each of you and show it to the world
Because if it's public, it's not slutty
--it's a career move.

Accomplishments of the day: 18 February 2007

2007-02-20T22:07:00.000-08:00

1)Spontaneous activity executed directly following work

2)Beach appropriate clothing aquired inexpensively and quickly (not on credit)

3)Drive to beach without getting angry at traffic

4)In anticipation of beach, begin undressing in traffic

5)Parallel park-- stick shift style

6)Overcome fear of teenagers and sit on beach anyway

This is officially the best day in February, ever.

7)Get feet wet (actually--all of lower leg, up to knees)

8)Pick treasures

9)See Catalina Island

[10)get peer-pressured into getting a library card]

Let’s catch up sometime! Yea, I would love that…

2007-02-20T22:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, I’ve got my cup of coffee here, two--make that three-- creams (it’s strong today) and an equal packet (because your drink deserves equal). So yea, I know, it seems like it’s been forever. How have I been, um, on a scale… 1-6, okay, how about 5? (Because we all know that anyone who answers 6 on this scale is a bragging jerk, and that just couldn’t be me). Okay, so start at the beginning. Sorry, I don’t know where that is. How about the Middle. No, that stresses me out. The End? Too anticlimactic. Let’s just start. We’ll figure it out.

So things are good. I’m just working, because I finished school. Very exciting. I’ll be walking for my BA in Philosophy in May. Yep, totally pumped. It is weird. A strange change of pace after the last couple decades of going to school all the time. But so right. The timing is perfect. For the first time ever, I feel ready. For anything, everything. I just feel ready. Like the preparation is over in me, so now I’m kind of in that state of packing up my things, and deciding what to leave behind, and finding my way to wherever it is I’m going. What a cool place to be. Yes it is. Indeed.

I work at this military school with a bunch of young boys. Boys are funny. But it turns out God loves them a lot, so I have this great opportunity to let them in on that piece of reality. I start coaching volleyball next week. Oh, you never knew I was into volleyball—funny cause I wasn’t. Sometimes you just have to do what they tell you, even if it means lying to little kids about your athletic abilities. They don’t need to know, they just need to play. But I am reading a book, so it should be fine.

My spiritual senses are much stronger than they used to be. It has been rather incredible. It turns out that, as described in the Bible, the Holy Spirit is actually an active and working part of reality. I always heard this, tried to believe it, but could not really conceive of it in the way that I needed to for me to make the most of the action of the Spirit. Through learning, study, prayer, and openness, my eyes have been opened to the work of the Spirit. Its intention in my life becomes more and more visible, and there is a rightness to our relationship that I have yearned for without knowing. This new sense has changed everything. I have a whole new role in my life. I am no longer the star of my movie. I am part of a relationship that has been waiting for me my entire life. 'To dance with the Trinity,' is a call that I have not known how to hear until now. I have never been asked to dance in so intimate a way, and I have never wanted to be a part of anything more. This is the most exciting thing in the world to me now.

Not that I intend to just hang around now. The Spirit does not simply exist to get me all excited about being part of something beautiful and then let me hang around in a bubble of peace. My soul has become quite flammable now. As the Spirit pursues my heart and it is opened for the Lord to move in it, our hearts become more and more aligned. My passion becomes more and more the passion of the Lord, and the electricity of Its touch has set my heart on some kind of crazy fire. It is the most pleasant natural disaster I have ever encountered.

So yea, it turns out I really love people. But on my own I am so incapable of reaching them past my insecurities and shortcomings. It also turns out that God totally wants me to love them, so It makes me able. It makes me whole. Not only justified so that I can commune with God, but sanctified so that I can live, in It, the life that I cannot help but love as I grow to know the heart of God.

I am surprised, somehow, that this has become the most important thing. It seems so intense to me, in a life that tries very hard to be simple. And maybe I have let simplicity and intensity mean things far too different for far too long. There is now a focus that allows those two features of my life to co-describe it quite effectively.

And with my eyes on the path set out in my heart everything else settles, like little sparkles in a snow globe. There are pieces of my life that suck, that hurt, that make me angry, frightened, tired. There are big and small joys. There is love, and there is chocolate. And there are books and there is pizza. There are best friends and there are tricky word problems. And there are kids dying in Africa, and there are kids with broken souls who I see every day. And I still yell at them for not getting their homework done or having their shirts tucked in, and I still curse their parents under my breath for thinking it was okay to have kids they could never be responsible enough to raise. And I still capture the best moments with the camera in my head, so I hold on to that rock and roll sunset, and the most gorgeous green eyes in the world, and the funniest kid on the planet, and the sad crazy on the roadside. All of these things are real too.

So you can see where it gets a little tricky. Yes. Oh, no I’d better not have any more coffee, we’re about out of cream and I’ve got to get to work. It’s been good though. Different than I expected, but I have to believe it’s good because it’s real. Thanks for meeting up. Yes, again soon. Certainly.

2007-01-11T00:33:00.000-08:00

Say something. Just say something because you should. Because you need to start making a habit of it. If you want to write you’re going to have to write. Stop being tired. It’s not getting you anywhere. So I’m writing, I’m writing. Saying absolutely nothing, but I am writing, because you say this is the thing to do. Writing writing writing. Yes, very nice.

My little sister got me this really cool candle. It’s product (red), so I love it. And it smells like a good looking man, so I love that too. It says 'sha(red)' around the outside of the frosted red glass. And I think that it’s nice. I like sharing. It makes everything seem bigger.

I have absolutely nothing to say. My brain has apparently become a crusty grey shell of what used to be a neverending trail of wonder. Maybe I can sleep then. My hopefulness has now cancelled out my very hope of calmness.

My scalp itches. I think it is the weather. I am bored of my hair. I liked it for 5 whole minutes once. It was a good moment. Too many ponytails. When I move to Africa I am going to look like Matt Damon’s lover in Bourne Supremacy, and then I’m going to shave my head. When your hair is too short, you have to like it, because you can’t do a damn thing but let it grow out. I don’t know why I insist on pretending that this is fact, but it seems right.

Enough enough. Bear with, and we will try again tomorrow.

Fear of Freedom

2007-01-04T16:29:00.000-08:00

Let freedom ring
in hearts and souls
in heavy chains we bear the burden
know the love know the love
bring our lives
leave our troubles
and let desire guide the way

Let freedom ring
we try to say
not trusting the sting of discontent
free from what free to what
let it go
trust your heart
to know it when you get there

Let freedom ring
how does it sound
a song our heart has hummed from waking
free to fall free to fly
swim or sink
yet never fear
you will always be well guided

Briefly

2007-01-03T15:11:00.001-08:00

I am done exploring
the simple, the weak, the worldly
I am done wanting
in a way that does not include true desire
I want God in all of it
from the passing butterfly to the passing Abercrombie model
I want the best for them
in the way that he does
I want the best for me
in that way too
I want the great
the beautiful, the best, the winning
I want to breathe it
to want it without thinking
God in me
as if the very blood in my veins was passionate about its purpose
Yes, I am done
with all other than that

A tribute to the very newly 21 year old AJ Harbison

2006-12-25T00:00:00.000-08:00

As I decided to write this blog I could not decide whether I should make a list of cool things about AJ, or of cool things about being 21. Because this is perhaps the coolest birthday one can have, I would hate to ignore it, but also because this is perhaps one of the coolest men I have had the pleasure of knowing, I would hate to make it a generic 21st birthday list. So, I have decided to make a combined list of the top 5 things about AJ being 21.

5. I now have another possible replacement as the drunk of the group.
4. Meetings and parties will no longer include that part when everyone blankly wonders why I didn’t bring any alcohol, because I will now be able to first blame AJ for not stocking his own bar.
3. One of my favorite traditions is buying a friend his or her first shot of good Irish whiskey. (But I hate having them do it alone, so AJ’s birthday gives me the opportunity to drink some myself!)
2. I think AJ will look really good drinking.
1. In his inebriated state, we may all have the opportunity to see AJ lose some of his astonishing reasoning capacity, which will entertain me very very much, and may lead to new conclusions never before reached in mental exploration. He may also make a grammatical error, which we would all be able to hold lovingly against him forever.

Yay, happy birthday, AJ. Hope it's a great day, because I can pretty much guarantee it's going to be a great year!!!! Can't wait to celebrate.

A blur of holiday

2006-12-20T23:59:00.000-08:00

It’s early but I have to get up, I can’t miss the kids’ play, I can’t believe that mom’s do this every day.

But, I want to look like a girl, there are going to be parents there, brush your hair, put some mascara on. That’s not very festive, but I guess it’s the right idea.

Damn, I forgot breakfast. How do real grown-ups do this every day?

I’m late, darn, where is the play? Oh, the chapel, I love the chapel. Oh, are you going this way, nice uniform, New Mexico, huh? Staying out of trouble? Well, I’m sorry to hear that Mr Shertick.

Okay, slip in the back, glance a few hellos. They don’t even know I’m a coach. Yes, I am the nice lady who yells at your kids so that you don’t have to. I know, I get paid, I can’t complain.

Slide in, look around. I really love this chapel. It’s just beautiful. Oh, they’re singing a song, the little kids are dressed up as sheep, that is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! What are all these jello-y feelings in my heart, is this how mom’s feel when they get all cry-y at these things? Oh gosh, they are just so cute and they are all trying so hard.

I hate the way the stage is set up, couldn’t they get some better equipment. Wow, we could really use some choral direction around here. The tape is louder than the kids. Okay, stop comparing to your Broadway worthy childhood performance career. These kids are really proud, and so are their parents.

Oh, hi Mrs Spiering. I don’t know how much we missed, I just got here. I wish this mom next to me would stop talking. Oh well, they’re her kids, yack it up lady. Oh, the hand motions, way to close big with jazz-hands. Oh, even the eighth graders. How cool.

And they closed with ‘The First Nöel’. How sweet. Okay, and we’re all rushing out, Christmas Drill starts in 20 minutes. I need coffee, need. Oh, thank you, yes, I really am a woman. I know, cute shoes and everything. Thank you for noticing. What’s that look for? I don’t even care, keep walking. Coffee, coffee, coffee.

Walking in heels makes me feel like a cooler woman in a New York kind of way. It’s like 40 degree’s out, but I’m rocking the streets of Anaheim like I’m made of stone, a very hot stone. Finally here, I need a mug, so I don’t spill walking back. Oh, finally here’s that bear I need for Deb. Wow, quite a line. Oh, that’s on sale? Cool.

Wow, it’s really busy in here. I hate it when people complain like that. Courtney, this is not your store, you don’t work here, you are not responsible, just step out of the way and be distracted by this very cute little coffee maker. Ah, yes, it is so shiny.

Oh, look, there’s Greg and Mrs Nelson. Hi guys, I guess this was a popular idea. Standing waiting standing waiting standing waiting. Blah blah blah. Oh, well I walked so if you want to give me a ride back that’d be great, and I can help you carry those coffees. Great, what a deal.

Of course I don’t want to sit in VIP, I want to hide under the bleachers. Okay, if you insist I’ll sit in VIP. Thank you, thank you. Oh, here they come. Wow, they look great. Oh hi, Mrs Suh. It’s good to see you. Yes I was in an accident. Yes, thank God. You are so kind, thank you. Oh, wow, nice job. I love Christmas music. Small band this year. Small in size and talent, apparently. Oh, that’s right they’re kids. All judgment is withheld. They’re great. Great job guys. I know they have been practicing really hard. Every waking moment of our lives. But the truth is I think you should all drop out and play more jazz. Hope, get that down for next year, I want a jazzy Christmas march. Thanks. Okay, enough of my brain.

Oh, here they come. So cute in their green dress uniforms. Yay. Many ribbons, recognitions. Oh, Justin got student of the month. I told him just yesterday that he is not special. Apparently, I was wrong. He is special, just like everyone else. Only specialer because he’s a SOTM.

It’s over, goodbye, goodbye, thank you, merry Christmas, goodbye, have a nice break, happy new year, goodbye, goodbye, Justin Roshan Alex John Alex Scott Faraj David Jose Anthony Quinten Joseph Jon Braxton Emmanuel Carlos goodbye, merry Christmas, be good, please be good, have a good one, merry Christmas, thank you.

Ahhh. Grilled cheese, my favorite. Yes I got the present. I was about to say thank you when I was so rudely interrupted. Yes, it is the coolest gift ever. Thank you. I don’t need to tell you how cool you are. Okay, goodbye, merry Christmas, goodbye.

Alright, down to the tv room. Is that rated appropriately? Is it really just the four of you left? Chill. Okay, put it in. Wow, that is a nice car. Good times.

No, we’re not going to put in another movie right now. It is really just the two of you left? Let’s go outside for a bit. I know it’s cold. No you can’t play basketball, you’ll get dirty. Not even free-throws. Sorry, bud. Luis Wen, you crack my up, little Yao Ming. Yes, let’s shine shoes. Oh, four hours to shine shoes, maybe we can do something else. Oh hello sister. Would you like some help? Yes, let me just finish shining my shoes, Luis, let’s go help. I know Di is stronger, but we should help.

Clack, clack, clack. Oh, so what are we doing in here? Oh, the newsletter. Well, I’ll help for a bit, sure. Wow, this is really boring. I know I am very good and folding envelopes. It’s one of my spiritual gifts. Haha. So what are you doing for Christmas. Cool. Yea, I have an older brother and a younger sister. We’re going to Vegas for New Year’s. Should be fun. Yep.

Okay, I’m out. Merry Christmas.

Hey, love, what’s crackin’. Yea I’ll be over in a bit. Hi, may I please have to chicken soft tacos, one small red burrito and a small cherry coke. Thank you. Oh hi, um, two packets of mild please. Thanks. Merry Christmas.

Hi Camps. Deb, what are you doing? Oh, dancing like a possessed Christmas tree angel, I see. Ooh, what are we baking? Those are adooooorable! Nice job Mama. Let me just sit here a sec. Oh yea, that day sounds fine, I really don’t care. Okay. Umm, I don’t know, what are you hungry for. No, I don’t care, you’re the one who doesn’t like tamales, freak. Yea, shrimp sounds good. Okay, we’ll go to the store and figure it out. Okay, yea, Matthew, where did you leave my phone? Alright, we’ll be back in a bit.

Okay, we need two pounds of those. Haha. Sure we’ll give you two tries to get it right. Haha. Impressive. Thanks a lot. Merry Christmas. Yea, I think this one. I’ll trust your judgment on that. I’m not a big sauce girl. I’ve noticed. I know we’re made for each other, but we sure are different. But I still love you so much. You too? Lucky me. Well I’m not really hungry for couscous, how about potatoes. No? Fine. Okay, sounds good. Are those zucchini, they look like zucchini, but they’re not quite. Yea, I’m sure they’re the same thing. Let’s get some yellow squash too. No let’s just get zucchini. No, let’s get some yellow squash too, why, because it will look nice to have a variety of colors. Duh. Hahaha. I’m putting my foot down on this one, we’re getting the yellow squash.

Okay, let’s skip the margaritas. But I really think we need your parents to start drinking, since the rest of the family is into it. Some other time I guess. Okay, let’s go.

We’re home. I’ll peel shrimp. Okay, fine I’ll cut zucchini. Andrew, you’re in my way. Okay, I’ll cut here. Mmm, this is going to be a good dinner. Um, can we just salt these a little before we put them on the grill? Italian? Okay, I just don’t like to over sauce fresh veggies, it like takes a way the whole point. (dead silence and slicing stares) oh, I see, we like sauce around here. Yes, I understand—your house, your saucing rules. Italian it is. Okay, the whole bottle, you got it. Deborah, I’m glad we did this, because I am going to have to reconsider marrying you. Hahaha. Just kidding. No sauce rule could every tear us apart. Muah! Hahaha.

Alright Papa, fire up the grill. Alright, these are ready, so are these. Send ‘em out. Dang it’s cold. No really, Deborah, I don’t care if you’re from Colorado or the North Pole, it’s freakin cold out there. Andrew, I think know what I’m doing. Deborah, who’s side are you on? Whatever, I could totally rock you in the kitchen. I may not be ‘domesticated’ (am I a pet or what?), but I still know how to do cool things. Whatever man, I’ll show you.

Oh, sorry Mama, I put your cup in the dishwasher. Never again. Family dinner table conversation. So much good stuff. Uh-oh, I ended up with the extra fork, looks like I got the dishes. That’s a fun rule. Okay, let’s go, I’ll meet you at my house.

Okay, got that, got this, this one or this one, can I just wear these, okay. Oops I forgot my toothbrush, okay, bye mom, no, okay, bye. Go right, okay go left, the chai eggnog is the best, okay, hi, yep, I’ll have a grande chai eggnog, CHAI EGGNOG, grande, GRANDE. Okay, thanks. Merry Christmas. Okay, go that way, or that way, okay. Cool. Yea, these Christmas lights suck. Go that way. Up there, yea make a left, oh well, just turn here. Ooh, now those are Christmas lights. Oh, how cute. That’s beautiful. I love it. Whoa, look at that one. That’s awesome! How cute. Awww, there’s another one of those. That’s totally cute.

Man, I’m beat. Yea, let’s just go home and go to bed. It’s been a long day. A good one, though. I’m glad we did this. Aright, I got top bunk. Nice, okay. Goodnight. Yea, I set some alarms. See you bright and early. Love you too.

The Journey

2006-12-19T23:00:00.000-08:00

There is a tricky balance, I am finding, that one must strike, between the pursuit of greatness for greatness's, or God’s sake, or the pursuit of greatness for one’s self. There is something natural, core, right, about the draw to certain things, and then to the desire to be great in the things about which one is passionate. But, when I pursue it because it evokes my passion, does it become self-focused and wrong? I am not sure.

I wished for some time that God would disconnect feeling from morality, to make things more clear and so that I could credit myself with being an emotionless figure of justice, like a scale. Like that blind justice lady, who doesn’t know what’s in either hand, but she has to decide which side is weightier. Then, I began to see that God’s hand can work through feeling: in guiding us toward his good and by letting us experience pleasure in him. I do believe that God’s great love makes him a god who wants his people to experience guidance and pleasure, even here on earth. Yet, God’s greatest kindnesses can be the capacities most exploited by the devil. It is so easy for the pleasure to become the motivation, for the guidance to become necessary to trust, and it becomes easy even to reject these gifts and doubt God’s character of care. The darkness does find its way here, and distort what I believe was meant to be a good way for God to lead and please us during our earthly lives.

There are things that I want to pursue; good things, I think. These things stir my soul, and because I have experienced that God is the strongest force at work in the soul, really, I want to pursue these. Maybe this is a subconscious desire to find God in this pursuit. At the heart we both know I want him. He is what I am seeking in every pursuit, no matter the name of the target. He is the force that feels right in all of it. But, because God loves me and delights in my soul’s delight, he lets me enjoy these things of passionate pursuit. I don’t just follow them thinking, “you are the right thing, I must have you,” rather I think, “whatever you really are, I am sure that I want you, from the purest fountain of my heart this desire for you flows, and you must be right.”

For this pursuit to be honest as I have described it, the desire that I follow, must truly be from this fountain of pure love, and this can only be uncovered by God, and known by our excavating my soul. God and I must journey through the dense jungles, up the treacherous but beautiful peaks; we must fight our way through the dangerous places, and return them to their intended beauty and order. And this is where the problem usually lies. This is a difficult journey, a journey that many simply assume will be done for them, or that can be accomplished by a merely moral formation. I understand, somehow, finally, that it is not. This is the most significant, the most real, the most intentional and personal and vital journey that we will ever go on. God in us. Emmanuel, with us on earth, and then sent in us by Christ as the Spirit, to continue a journey that his life made possible. God and his prized creation, reunited, and sanctified. The formation of a spirit to the state that God desires it, by the work of his own hand. There is no guessing anymore, there is no ‘try’, there is only a commitment to journey always together, never again alone.

And when the heart of the heart is found. The source of purest love and truest praise, where God’s glory can be seen in a purer vision, and from this throne room a river of passion pours. And there, desires, hopes, dreams, poured out to me, are taken in and made my own, and I follow this river to its never-end. And I don’t have to question anymore. All rivers lead to the great big, endless ocean.

2006-12-12T00:38:00.000-08:00

A prayer that I found in this cool book that I am reading:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

A prayer of Thomas Merton, taken from Thoughts in Solitude, quoted in My Life with the Saints by James Martin, SJ.

The desire of my heart, the heart of my fearlessness, the foundation of my trust: God, let Truth, Beauty, Love--your character-- be all of these to me.

2006-12-11T14:16:00.000-08:00

I went for a run to erase my mind. I wanted out. I wanted it all to stop. So I ran and ran and ran. Things became dimmer and dimmer. And finally it was dark. I had escaped. I stopped to stretch. Pop. I pulled a hamstring and found myself walking. As I walked, I found myself descending a deep dark staircase. I have been digging now for about a day and a half and have finally found the right location for a dungeon. I am ready to walk in, lock the gate, and be separate, alone, distanced, cold. I was ready to tell you all how I got here, how I found it to be the right place for me. I was writing you all a story about my departure, from the world of so-called freedom. You see, I am the strongest woman in the world. I know, it is your pleasure to meet me. But there is no safe place, for me, with all of you or for you, with all of me. I am dangerous in the bad way. We all have a weakness and in combination with some kinds of power this can cause more damage than it’s worth. As I’ve built the dungeon, I have decided that some risks aren’t worth taking. And I am one of them. So, I am preparing myself to tell you all. I am applying dark eyeliner and putting on black clothes. I am telling you all how you can’t imagine the depths I am in, that you couldn’t know this darkness (you see, because I am so damn special, I am so much more deep and dark and complex than you could imagine, please). And I am saying goodbye and preparing to slip into madness. Yes, you think I am crazy, but really you have no idea the madness that exists just below the surface. When we remove light, things die; and then things really get crazy. Decomposition, anaerobic metabolism, the ugly things that live under rocks break it all back down and feed us to the rest of the light embracing world. I was digging my self a dungeon, a grave. You are a crazy woman. Like no one before. Until you break, and then you are just like the hundred-millions of other crazy people in the world.

I was crazy for about a mile and a half. That’s a pretty deep walk.

I turned another corner, picking up the pace again, and the wind changed. It picked up, but not over my head, it was like under me and all around me, it was thick, like water. I didn’t want to feel it. But even as the strongest woman I could not stop it. I felt. Everything. Every emotion, every joy, every pain; like a million needles pricking at once, every pore stung. I wanted to laugh and cry. I walk faster, and then slower, and then faster, trying to make it go away. And in this ‘A Beautiful Mind’ -like moment I begin to see the leaves on the path differently. Suddenly they are in pairs, they match, they are grouped together, they are in progressive series. There is this order to their position on the ground. I am crazy, you already know, so yes, I see these things, and they are very real. I keep walking, and they keep popping out at me. Two here in symmetry, a group of four with points together like a four leaf clover. A pair of big ones, a pair of small ones. Same color, same shape, same alignment, mirrored alignment, growing in size or deepening in color. I look around and I feel lost all of a sudden. I know that I’ve been here maybe a thousand times. I walk this street all the time, I drive it daily. I know it. But I felt so out of place, so lost, missing. I continued up the path and the crazy things stopped happening and I began to feel like I knew where I was. I don’t know if I wanted to know, but I did and I was almost home again. I crossed the street and there were cars and I didn’t make eye contact because I hated that they could see me, and I wanted to pretend that they couldn’t. I don’t want to be seen anymore. I want to be invisible. I looked at the ground. Like those crazy people who don’t really know that you’re there because they’re all caught up in their crazy heads. Yes, just like them, us.

I’m fine, I’m fine. Really. No, I’m not really going crazy. Ha. It’s just this way I feel sometimes. Everything’s cool. What could we do? Anyway, what can we do. I am at a loss. A terrible loss. I am wanting to abandon ship. I feel this way sometimes. Sometimes I lose everything. Sometimes I don’t. We will see. We will all see.

We all have a weakness
But some of ours are easier to identify. Look me in the eye
And ask for forgiveness;
We’ll make a pact to never speak that word again.
Yes, you are my friend.
We all have something that digs at us,
At least we dig each other.
So when my weakness turns my ego up
I know you’ll count on the me from yesterday.
If I turn into another
Dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me.
Sing this song
Remind me that we’ll always have each other
When everything else is gone.
We all have a sickness
That cleverly attaches and multiplies
No matter how we try.
We all have someone that digs at us,
At least we dig each other.
So when sickness turns my ego up
I know you’ll act as a clever medicine.
If I turn into another
Dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me.
Sing this song!
Remind me that we’ll always have
Eachother
When everything else is gone.
Oh, each other…
When everything
Else is gone.

Dig—Incubus, 2006

2006-11-24T00:03:00.000-08:00

A Hero Deferred...

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

Today, I thought I would share the gift of life by donating blood to the American Red Cross, as is my every so oftenly tradition. I have it to spare and I can save 3 lives, so if you know I'm a superhero this all makes sense.

So I roll down to my local donor center this noonish and sign in and do the tests and get my under the tongue and around the arm and out the finger and gently on the wrist and the list of bizarre and nearly perverse questions... finally we review the questionarre and I am ready to start gushing blood into the bag.

Then the nice lady gets to the part about having been out of the country within the last 12 months, and I'm like yea, I went to Costa Rica, what's the big D? And she starts asking me parts that I went to, and apparently a couple of them are high malaria risk locations, which is a bust because they told us there was almost no risk there. The even bigger bust is that I am now "deferred" (not allowed to donate blood) until July! This officially sucks, no?

So, what I need to ask of all of you, is to carry the torch for me. I will have missed approximately 5 donation cycles before I am able to give in July... and these are like guaranteed life helping/saving opportunities! If even just 5 of you could support me in my innability by donating blood between now and July, (or even every couple months between now and then) I would really appreciate it. If you haven't done it before, it is a relatively painless and incredibly rewarding experience. The people are kind and you always get snacks and juice when you are done. You're helping people, straight up, plain and simple, handing over some life juice.

Please take this opportunity and check the American Red Cross website for local donation sites and drive dates.

Much love, and thank you for your support. It means more to me than you may expect.

Courtney

2006-11-23T00:53:00.000-08:00

Thanks giving to God, and to my fellow human
A rambling tale of my heart at the moment:

I suppose in every choice I am thankful for the freedom to choose it
I am thankful that while God could be anything, that he is Good
There have been deserts and tropical islands and cement shoes at the bottom of the ocean
Thanks for every place you've taken me
I think of every simple thing that I am thankful for
And they all become manifestations of God
When I hold them to light
And I am thankful for some clarity of vision
In that sense

Today I became accutely aware and anxious
That my choosing to follow the essential passion
The ticking in my soul, the God in me
It leaves me out of control, not like wild
Rather out of control of myself in a fearfully constricting way
And then I remembered that it is okay,
Because it isn't like I'm giving it up to someone else like me
I am giving it up to the one who knows both the plan and the person
That I can actually do best what I am best suited to do
If I continue to commit to this

So the universe is returned to order
Lucky for all of you
My anxieties subsiding in appropriate ways
As I recognize my lack of control as a gainful-loss

So I am thankful, at the moment, for the God whose nature makes me as I am and makes that alright at the same time.

The other things are great. The gravy. The house the cars the food the job the family supporting me the friends the senses. And I am thankful for them in many ways. But to me a prayer of thanks is like an exhaling. A joyful acceptance of things as they are, in and out. If I had none of the gravy I would be as thankful. I am sure of it. I'm not proud, I just want to be honest. That's all.

2006-11-03T23:34:00.000-08:00

I am oh-so overwhelmed,
While remaining ever-so underwhelming.
I am tired of working so hard.
But where are the fruits of my labor,
For me to eat and be sustained?

Empty girl, are you unfilled?
Is there a leak, are you a sink?
Or are you simply a vacuous wasteland:
Take love, take love take love take.
Return nothing.
It is burning a hole in the pocket that you do not have.

You had some
Resources, we call them.
You came with some and picked others up.
You put them in a backpack for later use,
Then broke the zipper.
What a fuckin waste.

Cry yourself to sleep again,
Wake up anxious and angry with yourself,
Have them tell you not to be so hard.
Don’t ever tell them that you know what you’ve wasted,
Because you know;
Better than them, you know.

Waste another minute.
Just one more, one more one more one.
Every time your heart beats, every tear breath nervous twitch second wasted thinking of a better word for this and then there is that thing over there you need to stop this stop this stop this stop

Breathe deeply,

Slowly,

Know that God forgives,

(How kind)

Fall asleep believing you have done all you could.

Wake up tomorrow,

Stomach sinking, teeth grinding, leg twitching.
What a shame, what a pity, what a waste.
A criminal to your own supposed system of the Right.

2006-10-22T15:56:00.000-07:00

Lately I have looked at life on such a grand scale, forgetting the beautiful little adventures that tune our eyes as drifting sparks to the brushfire that is the Grand Adventure of life. Today I caught a glimpse again; got carried away on the wind with a snapping spark that caught my eye.

The retreat is over, and I have decided that I will ride home alone. I have done a lot of thinking this weekend, and while it has been water to my soul I don't want to talk my way home. I want to turn up the radio and sing very loud and possibly out of key if the song is right. I have already packed, so I toss my Bible and scarf on the passenger seat, wish them a good ride, buckle up, and pull forward without looking back. I engage the four-wheel drive, and haul past the little turtles holding 'drive slowly' signs. The children are at church, no need to slow down.

I hit the main road, I am free. I have been singing that James Blunt song to all of my friends out the window, mostly because it has often repeated lines of "goodbye" and because it makes them all quite uncomfortable when I say "lover", and this is my role. So "Goodbye my lover, goodbye my friend" to you all!

I flick on the radio to get something else in my head, I am taking the little curves at the highest possible velocity for safe home-getting, because I can. What do you know, Sir James is on the dial, singing to me about how I have been the one and how he shared my dreams. I've kissed your lips and held your head, Shared your dreams and shared your bed, I know you well, I know your smell, I've been addicted to you. -- Ah, I know exactly what you mean.

But I won't be stuck in a moment, so the song ends and I change the channel, Switchfoot is telling me that this is my life and wondering if I am who I want to be. I tell them in my mind as I sing their questions at the top of my lungs: No guys, I'm not everything I dreamed that I would be when the world was younger and I had everything to lose. I am so much more and so much other. The world hasn't gotten that much older, and I now have nothing to lose. I am becoming, and I am being. This must be who I want to be, because it is who I am being.

And suddenly the music stops mattering. I think there was some more Switchfoot, I vaguely remember singing along with The Cure, and Rascal Flatts, some good stuff like that. In some instant the slow truck in front of me had disappeared and the road had widened to two lanes, leaving me free to wander at my own pace. The sidelines became marked with signs of scores and symbols, all leading to the very adventurous game. Some might recongnize these signs as warnings of the dangerous turns ahead, giving suggested speeds to take them safely. To me and my Wild and Dangerous comrades, there is an entirely other symbology:

The yellow numbered sign is of the curve's rating. The scale is inverted from 55--being the lowest fun rating, to about 25--the highest fun rating.
The adjacent sign with an arrow representing the turn may show a slightly curved straight arrow, indicating that one may begin gassing directly after getting into the turn because it will soon be over.
The fully curved arrow indicates a complete hairpin turn. In this case one should downshift, take a deep breath, and gain control, and get ready for the rush.

The feeling that kissing gives to lips, these turns give to the rest of the body. As the tires grip the road and centrifugal force tells the vehicle to fly off a cliff, every neuron in the body gets a hit of some craved adventure signal. About halfway down the hill I hit a Full-Curve 30, the best this mountain has seen yet. I kick to third, turn down the radio, take a deep breath, and smile deeply as my hands tighten on the wheel, my right quad tightens my foot above the brake, both arms firm up in yoga like posture. Jeep and I take this curve at the absolute maximal tension point, which happens also to be the climax of the curve for safety and pleasure. It seems to go on for ever, like we may have gone through the mountain and come back out somehow. It was absolutely beautiful. I hear only rushing wind and my own voice cheering at our success. Yeahea! I suppose it is like a blend of yeehaw and woohoo, both of which I adore.

After this, we float down the rest of the hill, rocking out to Otis Redding singing 'Sitting on the Dock of the Bay', finally meeting a red light and a car full of friends at the bottom. I sing to them with my flush face and euphorically smiling lips. They shake their heads and smile, tell me I'm getting on the wrong freeway. I tell them that the road is my home now, so I certainly don't need directions. The light turns green and I greet the road, knowing I have somehow just been initiated. Welcome Home.

2006-10-17T02:01:00.000-07:00

I would like to congratulate myself on having completed a new poem, the first of its kind in my work in that it is split into two stanzas, and in that it is not written in sadness. I did not think the second possible, and definitely did not think the first possible in light of the second. I will be presenting it in the form of a reading this weekend, which seems to me for some reason an acceptable excuse not to publish it here yet. I think that I am unprepared to give it up in written form yet... there is a danger in giving people the opportunity to read, reread, scrutinize, analyze. I would let you do these things to past art, I have detached from them sufficiently. but this is new, these words fresh, still deeply connected through the neural framework to my soul. So, you cannot have them yet. Someday.

Anyway, yay for me. I have created, for the first time in a long time. It feels like a freedom I had forgotten.

2006-10-09T01:28:00.000-07:00

This song is heartwarming and simply-beautiful. I encourage you to look up the music video, which is downright heartwarming. Please enjoy. Remember that love doesn't have to feel like magic, but it probably will, so let it. The rest of your life can look like anything you want it to, so set down your expectations and realize that one day you may just wake up and realize that this is the first time you've ever really woken up. I hope for the sake of a good story that for you this event is catalized by someone who turns your rainy days in to beach days, a beautiful face, somone who is home to you, someone who would drive all night to meet you in the morning. Don't fight it, don't overthink it, just accept that sometimes things are as they seem, and we can be born just walking through a doorway.
<3

Artist: Bright Eyes
Album: I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning
Year: 2005
Title: First Day of My Life

This is the first day of my life
I swear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain
suddenly everything changed
They're spreading blankets on the beach

Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don’t know where I am
I don’t know where I’ve been
But I know where I want to go

And so I thought I’d let you know
That these things take forever
I especially am slow
But I realize that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange you said everything changed
You felt as if you had just woke up

And you said
“this is the first day of my life
I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you
But now I don’t care I could go anywhere with you
And I’d probably be happy”

So if you want to be with me
With these things there’s no telling
We just have to wait and see
But I’d rather be working for a paycheck
Then waiting to win the lottery
Besides maybe this time is different
I mean I really think you like me

2006-09-24T14:13:00.000-07:00

21 things

Alanis Morissette came up with this list in her album, Under Rug Swept. I actually really like it. I’ve never really been very good at coming up with lists about things like what I want in a lover. It was always just cheesy stuff like, ‘cute, good sense of humor, Christian…’ and of course the word lover was never allowed to title my list. But upon listening to this song, and really getting to like it, I think that her list really resonates with me. I compiled it into a number list to make it a little more my organizational style and cut out the repetitious chorus stuff, for any of you who know the song and are tempted to call me out on poor quoting.

So, I choose this too, as well as some of her other sentiments about wanting things in a lover. Enjoy…

21 Things I Want in a Lover—Alanis Morissette

1. Do you derive joy when someone else succeeds?
2. Do you not play dirty when engaged in competition?
3. Do you have a big intellectual capacity, but know that it alone does not equate to wisdom?
4. Do you see everything as an illusion?
5. But enjoy it even though you are not of it?
6. Are you both masculine and feminine?
7. Politically aware?
8. And don't believe in capital punishment?
9. Do you derive joy from diving in and seeing that loving someone can actually feel like freedom?
10. Are you funny?
11. à la self-deprecating?
12. Like adventure?
13. And have many formed opinions?
14. Are you uninhibited in bed?
15. More than three times a week?
16. Up for being experimental?
17. Are you athletic?
18. Are you thriving in a job that helps your brother?
19. Are you not addicted?
20. Are you curious?
21. And communicative?

these are 21 things that I want in a lover
not necessarily needs but qualities that I prefer
I figure I can describe it since I have a choice in the matter
these are 21 things I choose to choose in a lover

I'm in no hurry I could wait forever
I'm in no rush cuz I like being solo
there are no worries and certainly no pressure
in the meantime I'll live like there's no tomorrow

2006-09-03T03:10:00.000-07:00

Flushing. I feel myself sliding down this spiraling, swirling, sickening chute, down into dark places that make me uncomfortable, that I am scared to go. I fall through the plumbing of the fall out of my choices, of my character, of my life, and land in a pool of sewage, speechless and in tears. This is no place for God. This is no place for something as beautiful as Love, as strongly cleansing as Love, as rich and healing as Love. But He insists on meeting me here. I want to get up, I want to clean up, I want to climb out, take a breather, rinse off. I’ll come back later, I’ll work through this then, when I’m a little stronger, when I’ve learned a little more, when I’m a little more supported.

God will not stop me from running out. God will not insist that I am in no state to be leaving the underground. God will not grab me firmly by the arm and say, if you climb out that pothole you’re out for good. He will ask me to stay, to let Him clean me rightly, but He will not force me. I am uncomfortable and unwilling. So, covered in the filthy waste of my sin, I emerge to restore order to my mucked up world. I am sludging infectious slime around the streets, my odor permeating the home that I return to for some cover up perfume and a breath mint. I drip muck in the halls at school, my stench follows me to work, and as I pull myself close to people in relationships, or physically intimate substitutes there for, I gain no clarity or strength or purity. I only spread the filth around. It’s on the paper I turned in, it’s on my timecard, punched away, it’s on the body that made mine feel so much better when I closed my eyes and let the edges fade.

And for all that I’m leaving behind, you’d think I was getting somewhere. But this slime is growing, regenerating—It’s coming from me. I filled that whole sewer with the nasty shit inside me. I am fucking disgusting.

Something beautiful calls. Despite my despair, I want so badly to believe that this sirenous symphony is calling me. I follow the gentle whisper to a place deep within me where I hate to go. There in the inner breeding pools of my sinful sludge stands my Lord and Savior with a shovel and soap. “Let’s take it out of you. You can’t take yourself out of it, but I can take it out of you. Be here, be in this, don’t deny it, don’t run, just be here, with Me, in this dark, reeking, hideous place inside of you. Let’s clean out this part of My home piece by piece.”

And so He works in me for hours that feel like years and sometimes years that feel like hours. He scoops up some hurt that’s rotted here and become resentment. He scoops up insecurities that have fermented and grown between us. He picks up wrong decisions that I won’t let go of, and begs me to let him make them right. He scrubs out judgments and pride that have stained my soul like tar stains in an old smoker’s house.

The detox is grueling. I’m not complaining; it’s only necessary. As we purge my insides, there is a deep sense of pain and loss and sorrow and regret. Like scrubbing away dead tissue and infection from a deep wound, there is a pain to taking away what can’t be there for things to become healthy again. As we remove some things, other things shift and become uncomfortable—sickening even. We find things that I had forgotten to hate in myself, and we find hate that He wants to take out of me for good.

I’m not sure how I got here, but I’m weak, empty, exhausted. I would not trade this journey for a thousand good days. Anyone would like to be the God who gets to give you high-fives and tell you He loves you in warm fuzzy ways. But the God worth following is the one that will wait for you in the most unfit places and lead you through them. The God that will shovel your shit and make you be there for it, all the while loving you beyond all understanding.

God is good. Unceasingly. Praise Him.

2006-08-28T00:32:00.000-07:00

I don’t have much to say these days, but I can say enough to tell you why…

When I began writing, my good friend and mentor, Teal, told me that often it is difficult to write when we feel good, because we are busy feeling good, and don’t think to write. When we are feeling bad or going through unpleasant times, we come back inside of ourselves to reflect on our pain or conflict, and there we find words that become the art that we share.

I would like to be the kind of person who can express the good days and the bad days; I see the beauty in both. But maybe on the good days, we share the beauty during the experience, with the people we are sure can validate our positivity-- and then on bad days, the beauty is in the process, by which we find the words that are worth sharing. I never want to share my sadness, just the beautiful real that I experience in it.

But right now, I just want to keep living the pure, sweet, simple, pleasant life--while it lasts. Thanks to those of you who share that part. The rest of you will have more to experience when this time has ended…

2006-08-17T04:00:00.000-07:00

Distraction, destruction, detachment, disengagement, deviation, desertion, death.

I am hyper-aware of this point in relationship. I watch myself grow. I revel in my own honesty, my realness, my likedness in this state. It is still new, slightly unbelievable. I enjoy it, I believe briefly that life could be full of this healthy, honest, enjoyable type of engagement from here on out.

But in the back of my mind there has been a list of questions. Questions I am in fact not too good to ask, but too guilty. These questions assume a want in you. They assume a need for your approval, for your like, for your desire. I catch myself as these questions surface, I call them a silly part of my past and I wait for them to be argued out of existence by my logical filtering squad.

These doubts are not part of the dream. These questions not a piece of the quest. So they have no place, but buried. Do you find me attractive, pretty, or did you ever? It’s insignificant, he doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter, never will. Do you think I’m cheap, shallow, a product of my culture, do you judge me like the rest of them? Don’t think that, he’s not judgmental, be more confident, don’t fear judgment unless you’re guilty. Are you just playing along, letting me be stoked to be with you, letting me feel close, but really having that feeling in the back of your mind that you have to end it sometime soon? This is your anxious past, this is the part of you that is only allowed to be disappointed in yourself and no one else.

I celebrate my reality, and then recoil into non-existence. If you acted hurt, or confused, that might have added the touch of drama to have made it all worth it, so keep that in mind. Suddenly, I will be colder, harder to get a hold of, less sensitive, less subject to my own whims and emotionally initiated activity. I will circulate the idea of your feelings, but in the end decide that you are relieved.

I lived this dreaded life five-years-ago. And someone taught me to believe the reasons why the questions were silly, but still to ask them if I couldn’t believe myself. He taught me to remember that relationships are more than about me, not so that I would feel guilty and selfish, but so that I would remember that the risk runs both ways. To another, I am a risk worth taking, just as they are to me.

Don’t just settle for being loved, love’s everywhere. Your parents love you, and I know you wouldn’t date them… when he told me to embrace the idea that my soul could actually have another half in this world, in this life. That would be nice.

Anymore, it is not about romantic relationship, it’s not about marriage and soul-mates in the eighties-movie-deeply-staring-into-your-eyes-and-i-knew kind of way. It’s about my never ending homesickness, my discomfort on this planet. I asked God why I always felt this discomfort like blue jeans made of sand paper. It isn’t unbearable, but it sure as hell isn’t comfortable. But even then, there was a peace to it, that even alone on this planet I would have a dream to keep me moving forward in joy.

And as I accept my solitude: my need for God only and no home, no family, no lover; I encounter these people, like places where my soul does feel at home. One is the blue jeans minus the sand paper, one is that china team shirt that is too soft not to be important, one is my nest, one is my sunbathed deck on the Mediterranean coast, one is my studio in Frisco.

So I trust God, but not myself. What if I accept that my soul can be comforted, rested, embraced, nourished, in a way that includes relationship with other people? Then I feel better, happier, healthier—nervous God will take it away, some brilliant lesson of His, of course. Afraid that I will love having a home so much I will forget to be engaged in life. Terrified that I will forget that heaven isn’t here.

And in the quiet of this late night, God calms my soul. He asks me to enjoy the home. We know I may never own a house, a new car. The nice things may stay at my childhood home that I abandoned as I left my mother and father and married my dream. The Great Giver asks me to put on the comfy jeans and soft tee, to sleep in my nest, absorb the sun’s energy on the deck, let art revive me in the studio. He loves me so much. He gives me homey places, though he has taught me not to need or expect them. He loves me so very much.

2006-08-08T13:30:00.000-07:00

7 August 2006 Because sometimes it is nice to remember out loud.

I love my life.

It’s just really good. Full of intensely beautiful moments. I am overwhelmed at God’s grace even more for blessing me with such moments so frequently.

Tonight I spent time with Evan. Our friendship has been immediate and honest. We understand, we can be silent together. We dream, and we share the sadness of having to wait to reach our dreams. We have some kind of cool freedom.

Tonight, I drove down to Evan’s new place. I met Ray and Forest who are his very cool new roommates and old friends. They are positive. It seems like the healthiest situation I have ever heard of Evan being in. I love it for him. We chatted with Forest for a little bit, enjoyed the company, the ease of a good fit. I toured the house. There was so much positive energy, I could tell Evan was really excited about it. It was so cool. Then we decided to go get some coffee and hang out where we could talk and share stories.

We swung by am/pm, got coffee. It was funny, it was easy, comfortable, free. We drove down to the circle and walked through an ally and up the almost empty street. We observed everything and mentioned whatever seemed coolest or best or different or whatever we cared about. I like this brick ally. That light is so ally orange. I love these old houses, so much better than new ones. The fountain’s different. Let’s not walk by them. Wow, this is beautiful. What a cool tree.

So we land at Chapman university. An absolutely beautiful campus. Evan is undecided on beauty and aesthetics and relativity thereto pertaining. I will educate him when I have made my decision on the matter, because this will be my retirement philosophy project. We walk at a fair distance from each other, down a sidewalk path, around a grassy courtyard between prominent seeming halls. And there is a tree, almost spherical in it’s attempts at reaching light. Heavy and rough, it’s low trunk top makes it an easy climb. So Evan and I take the challenge and find our places in the tree. I am cold and uneasy balancing with so much caffeine and so little rest. Evan is strong and confident in his actions. The tree is his jungle gym, a vacation spot from real challenges. We stand and sit and climb and sip our coffee. Evan smokes couple of cigarettes over the next couple of hours. We sit and talk, and Evan tells me his stories. This is part of the deal. The predetermined plan, which we can never come up with or stick to. He has lots of good stories, about life and medication and about his secret life as a mad scientist’s apprentice. He sounds brilliant and he is excited and dreaming out loud in the language of research chemistry and physics. I am of course aroused. No, but really I am amazed and engaged and charmed and thrilled at this side of Evan I have not really seen.

I don’t know Evan that well, and somehow we have skipped years by understanding. Somehow.

We sit in the tree for a long time. The sprinklers run for what seems like forever. We hope they will turn on below us—stranding us and improving our night’s story. I have lost a shoe and we drop our coffee cups as we finish with them. Eventually we are cold—I am cold and Evan has to pee. We continue our walk through the campus. Briefly peering through hall doorways that janitorial crews have left unlocked without knowing the kinds of strangers that would be looming about.

We appreciate the architecture to each other. We realize how much more our education would mean to us if it came in such a beautiful package. Evan hopes that those who get it, appreciate it. There is art everywhere. Sculptures and dedicated buildings and placards on everything. The schools emblem is so prominent it is probably imprinted on the toilet paper.

We continue to wander, find Evan a bush, Check out the law building, at what is now about two-fifteen am. We know it’s late but don’t say a thing. I don’t ask what time it is. He is the one who has to be up early, so he can call it a night when he wants. I didn’t want it to end. No way.

We walked back, close enough that I could feel his warmness in the distance between our arms. We noticed antique shops, and shared our liking of full veranda patio decks. I am glad that Evan appreciates them the way that I do and the way that he does as a constructor.

We find the truck and drive back and cherish all of the moments. They are so real. So very real and so special. We get back to the house and we talk about being tired and late and Evan should not still be up. But we could sit there all night. The two hours left of it. We get out and I side hug Evan because we have predetermined this as acceptable, I made sure of it when we said hello. And he tells me that we can hug for real and he is incredibly strong and his construction muscles lose there subtlety with the closeness. We express gladness about our time. We want to do it again. I will call him. I tell him it will be next week. He says, yes, he’d like it to be soon. He works a lot, but he’s flexible, so I should call whenever I’m free.

I seem to be getting a lot of that lately. I guess that’s okay. Just don’t ever make me choose. Let the choices make themselves before I even have to be involved.

And still, I love my life. It is so easy. It is so free. I have known pain and God graciously ended it before I gave up. I know this will not be the last pain. I thank God for this season of pure grace. Of pure love. Of pure giving in relationships like I am experiencing in most real way in this season of my life.