There are so many things I want to be. I blame Dr. Seuss. And greeting card companies. And movies. Disney, really. I want to do it all. God, I want to love and be loved and I want to live and I want to travel and I want to care so badly for this world but I will never have a heart big enough for it all. And I want to stare up at the stars and pretend like I know what's going on and I want to hear about the world and not feel so lost in this sea of facts and stories and happenstances. I want to be somebody. I want so many things for so many reasons.
And all there is right now is a pile of ice pop wrappers and a hedgehog. What is my life?
I was so ready for the storybook pain. My heart is prepared to be broken, I am ready for loss, but this mundane stuff, what is that? This everyday pain, knowing you didn't reach that kid and you're never going to have that chance back. Knowing that you're living on someone else's good graces instead of standing on your own two feet. Breathing and thinking and talking and existing with that little morsel of self-hatred that you can't banish because you're deathly afraid of it. And the daily reminder that you don't care enough to be somebody, that you're not going to work to make your life wonderful.
Hey, tomorrow, remember that you're beautiful. No, legit, you are beautiful and don't you dare let anyone tell you different. Remember that you can and that even if you can't, you can try and you can learn and that the only thing that was gained by sitting on your couch was a you-shaped dent in the cushion. Remember hope, that beautiful, wonderful, stupid, idiotic, great thing. Hope, which must never be left alone in the dark with your dreams and your fantasies but has to be brought out and shared because hope all alone died a long time ago. Hope breathes air. Hope speaks action. Hope lives. Hope loves.
Hope has taken the weekend off. But I didn't tell you that.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The Coolest Girl
Forget Elphaba, I want to be Hermione. Kinda a vindictive little inspiring song, but you gotta admit, the girl's got sass. Which I could use some of. So, brought to you by A Very Potter Sequel: The Coolest Girl (music and lyrics by Darren Criss)
HERMIONE:
All my dreams
I'm chasing after,
they don't need
all this laughter...
I take a grain of salt,
stiff upper lip.
It's not their fault
I'm not as hip.
Wake up kid, you know you're more than this...
I'm the smartest person
that I've ever met.
So why do I allow myself to
possibly forget:
There's so much I know how to do,
so much more than all of you.
The only thing I wish I knew
was how to make them see
the girl that I can be....
I am
the coolest girl in the whole wide world
I know it
but can't show it at all.
I am
sick and tired
of low, not higher
places, where I should belong.
It's about time I proved them wrong...
Give me a shot
to show what I've got!
I'm a helluva whole lot more
than this frizzy hair,
these frumpy clothes I wear,
though I rock 'em like nobody you've seen before
'Cause I am
the coolest girl in the whole wide world
I know it
below it all.
I am
done with losin',
on with choosin'
the coolest girl on the face of the planet,
the coolest witch on earth, I swear it!
The coolest chick you've ever seen or heard!
So you can try to bring me down,
but sorry guys, I'm stickin' around!
I've thought about it, and I've found
that I am
the coolest girl!
HERMIONE:
All my dreams
I'm chasing after,
they don't need
all this laughter...
I take a grain of salt,
stiff upper lip.
It's not their fault
I'm not as hip.
Wake up kid, you know you're more than this...
I'm the smartest person
that I've ever met.
So why do I allow myself to
possibly forget:
There's so much I know how to do,
so much more than all of you.
The only thing I wish I knew
was how to make them see
the girl that I can be....
I am
the coolest girl in the whole wide world
I know it
but can't show it at all.
I am
sick and tired
of low, not higher
places, where I should belong.
It's about time I proved them wrong...
Give me a shot
to show what I've got!
I'm a helluva whole lot more
than this frizzy hair,
these frumpy clothes I wear,
though I rock 'em like nobody you've seen before
'Cause I am
the coolest girl in the whole wide world
I know it
below it all.
I am
done with losin',
on with choosin'
the coolest girl on the face of the planet,
the coolest witch on earth, I swear it!
The coolest chick you've ever seen or heard!
So you can try to bring me down,
but sorry guys, I'm stickin' around!
I've thought about it, and I've found
that I am
the coolest girl!
Life Lessons From an Email?
This is the *ahem* Lotus Touts that ended up in my email inbox. Since I only do serious things (like receive Facebook updates) with my email, I figured I'd share the wisdom with you. Enjoy.
_________________________________________________
ONE. Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully
TWO. Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.
THREE. Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.
FOUR. When you say, 'I love you,' mean it.
FIVE. When you say, 'I'm sorry,' look the person in the eye.
SIX. Be engaged at least six months before you get married.
SEVEN. Believe in love at first sight.
EIGHT. Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have much.
NINE... Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only way to live life completely.
TEN.. In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling.
ELEVEN. Don't judge people by their relatives.
TWELVE. Talk slowly but think quickly.
THIRTEEN. When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask, 'Why do you want to know?'
FOURTEEN. Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
FIFTEEN. Say 'bless you' when you hear someone sneeze.
SIXTEEN. When you lose, don't lose the lesson.
SEVENTEEN. Remember the three R's: Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions.
EIGHTEEN. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
NINETEEN. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
TWENTY. Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice
TWENTY- ONE. Spend some time alone.
_________________________________________________
ONE. Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully
TWO. Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.
THREE. Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.
FOUR. When you say, 'I love you,' mean it.
FIVE. When you say, 'I'm sorry,' look the person in the eye.
SIX. Be engaged at least six months before you get married.
SEVEN. Believe in love at first sight.
EIGHT. Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have much.
NINE... Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only way to live life completely.
TEN.. In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling.
ELEVEN. Don't judge people by their relatives.
TWELVE. Talk slowly but think quickly.
THIRTEEN. When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask, 'Why do you want to know?'
FOURTEEN. Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
FIFTEEN. Say 'bless you' when you hear someone sneeze.
SIXTEEN. When you lose, don't lose the lesson.
SEVENTEEN. Remember the three R's: Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions.
EIGHTEEN. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
NINETEEN. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
TWENTY. Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice
TWENTY- ONE. Spend some time alone.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
News
The world is a fun and exciting place today!
The center of our galaxy tastes like raspberries and smells like rum: http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2009/apr/21/space-raspberries-amino-acids-astrobiology
A giant star screws up stellar evolution theories: http://www.physorg.com/news198924098.html And here's some background on Eddington luminosity/ the Eddington limit, if you're interested: http://www.sciencebits.com/SurpassingEddington
The universe: a device contrived for the perpetual astonishment of astronomers. -Arthur C. Clarke
Also!!!!! A Very Potter Sequel premieres tonight!!!! Too bad my first planetarium show in front of real people who I didn't invite and who aren't predisposed to like me is tonight. You win some, you loose some. If you want to watch it for me: http://www.teamstarkid.com/2010/07/tonight-is-the-night/. And if you haven't seen the original A Very Potter Musical, there's still time! http://www.youtube.com/user/starkidpotter?blend=1&ob=4#p/c/C76BE906C9D83A3A
The center of our galaxy tastes like raspberries and smells like rum: http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2009/apr/21/space-raspberries-amino-acids-astrobiology
A giant star screws up stellar evolution theories: http://www.physorg.com/news198924098.html And here's some background on Eddington luminosity/ the Eddington limit, if you're interested: http://www.sciencebits.com/SurpassingEddington
The universe: a device contrived for the perpetual astonishment of astronomers. -Arthur C. Clarke
Also!!!!! A Very Potter Sequel premieres tonight!!!! Too bad my first planetarium show in front of real people who I didn't invite and who aren't predisposed to like me is tonight. You win some, you loose some. If you want to watch it for me: http://www.teamstarkid.com/2010/07/tonight-is-the-night/. And if you haven't seen the original A Very Potter Musical, there's still time! http://www.youtube.com/user/starkidpotter?blend=1&ob=4#p/c/C76BE906C9D83A3A
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Gravity: A Comparison
Listen, for me, faith right now is like Newtonian gravity and general relativity. I've learned the version everyone learns, I know what you're going to say and I know it's applicable in most circumstances. But I also know there are small things that don't work with that basic understanding that can be brushed away, and bigger things that are denied existence because that simpler version, which works admirably most of the time and fits into simple lessons, just can't explain it.
But the whole time I'm sitting here listening to you, and I'm frustrated because I know there's something bigger that people aren't telling me and I know that the simple version isn't working anymore. It's profound, yes, and it can get you places. But there's something deeper, something richer, something harder to understand, something more elegant, something more real that I'm just not being taught. I want that depth, not to wave it around in your face and pretend like I'm smarter than you, but because I want to understand everything. Maybe you don't need to, maybe this desire isn't pent up in your heart the way it is in mine, but I can't be satisfied with anything less. And it can help people, I know it can.
So please don't be offended if I only smile tight-lipped at your help. I know what you've said. And it's helpful, I swear. It's just not helpful enough anymore. And I'm sorry for that.
But the whole time I'm sitting here listening to you, and I'm frustrated because I know there's something bigger that people aren't telling me and I know that the simple version isn't working anymore. It's profound, yes, and it can get you places. But there's something deeper, something richer, something harder to understand, something more elegant, something more real that I'm just not being taught. I want that depth, not to wave it around in your face and pretend like I'm smarter than you, but because I want to understand everything. Maybe you don't need to, maybe this desire isn't pent up in your heart the way it is in mine, but I can't be satisfied with anything less. And it can help people, I know it can.
So please don't be offended if I only smile tight-lipped at your help. I know what you've said. And it's helpful, I swear. It's just not helpful enough anymore. And I'm sorry for that.
Observations.
I'm not super coherent right now (it's summer and I still procrastinate until the night my paper is due to write it... tsk tsk) due to lack of sleep and a lot of time spent around children, LEGOs and stars so I figured I'd let you in on some of my observations over the past few days. Enjoy!
Love your life.
_____________________________________________
If the guy sitting across from me in B-ski's isn't dating or married to the lady he's with, he should be, with the way he looks at her. Good sir, you are in love, in case you hadn't noticed.
____________________________________________
The best sound in the world is the sound that kids make when the lights go down in the planetarium dome and the stars come up. Happy wonder and amazement. Favorite.
____________________________________________
There's an artificial ring around Earth... of satellites and space debris. We would be the planet with the trashy ring.
____________________________________________
Dear Boy, I have decided that this song describes our nonexistent relationship.
____________________________________________
Dear Future Boy, I have decided that It Ain't Over will describe our relationship.
____________________________________________
First public show tomorrow, first public show tomorrow, first public show- what do you mean, my laser pointer technique needs work? What am I supposed to do, sit around in the theater and practice drawing circles on the ceiling? And get paid for it? ... I love my life.
____________________________________________
Brown hair really stands out on white legs. I really have to shave.
____________________________________________
Tiberius- what an awesome name for a dog.
____________________________________________
The entire point of my story about my camper tackling me during Park Ranger is to point out the fact that children can be the sweetest things- the game stopped on the dime after I hit the dirt and several of my campers rushed to my side, picking up my water bottle and sunglasses and helping me up. Too bad I missed out on telling that part to my boss, who now thinks I'm complaining about being beat up by a 4th grader.
____________________________________________
I want God to be wasteful too.
____________________________________________
If one of your campers shares your boss's boss's last name, chances are you should check on that before he walks up with your boss's boss while you're trying to subdue a munchkin uprising over whether an octopus can really predict the outcome of the world cup.(I cheered for Spain the whole way. Now if only I had made bets on that, I wouldn't have to worry about my job security.)
____________________________________________
I never knew air could be so solid before. Should you have to feel like you're pushing and invisible wall as you walk outside? A solid, invisible, sweat-creating wall.
____________________________________________
My education class wasn't entirely useless- I was reminded of tricky situations that you should be aware of too: http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/07/19/ncschools.resegregation.rally/
____________________________________________
I have never worked so hard to build a poorly functioning trebuchet than I did today, after my camper said, "This'll be my fifth failure this week!" No, young sir, you are not going to fail this time, even if I have to make an oddly shaped contraption out of your base and hold it in place as it swings wildly, almost nailing your fellow builder in the head with a tiny LEGO connector piece that I couldn't find later.
____________________________________________
You're talking to me! You're talking to me! You're talking to me! And... now you're gone.
____________________________________________
I desperately wish you'd never leave.
____________________________________________
I talk about raptors a lot.
____________________________________________
So do these guys.
____________________________________________
I compulsively sing along to songs I hear that I know.
____________________________________________
You know that the light that hits your eyes from stars is coming from an incredible distance- little photons that have fought the vast emptiness of space to reach you here. The least you can do is look up.
____________________________________________
Love your life.
_____________________________________________
If the guy sitting across from me in B-ski's isn't dating or married to the lady he's with, he should be, with the way he looks at her. Good sir, you are in love, in case you hadn't noticed.
____________________________________________
The best sound in the world is the sound that kids make when the lights go down in the planetarium dome and the stars come up. Happy wonder and amazement. Favorite.
____________________________________________
There's an artificial ring around Earth... of satellites and space debris. We would be the planet with the trashy ring.
____________________________________________
Dear Boy, I have decided that this song describes our nonexistent relationship.
____________________________________________
Dear Future Boy, I have decided that It Ain't Over will describe our relationship.
____________________________________________
First public show tomorrow, first public show tomorrow, first public show- what do you mean, my laser pointer technique needs work? What am I supposed to do, sit around in the theater and practice drawing circles on the ceiling? And get paid for it? ... I love my life.
____________________________________________
Brown hair really stands out on white legs. I really have to shave.
____________________________________________
Tiberius- what an awesome name for a dog.
____________________________________________
The entire point of my story about my camper tackling me during Park Ranger is to point out the fact that children can be the sweetest things- the game stopped on the dime after I hit the dirt and several of my campers rushed to my side, picking up my water bottle and sunglasses and helping me up. Too bad I missed out on telling that part to my boss, who now thinks I'm complaining about being beat up by a 4th grader.
____________________________________________
I want God to be wasteful too.
____________________________________________
If one of your campers shares your boss's boss's last name, chances are you should check on that before he walks up with your boss's boss while you're trying to subdue a munchkin uprising over whether an octopus can really predict the outcome of the world cup.(I cheered for Spain the whole way. Now if only I had made bets on that, I wouldn't have to worry about my job security.)
____________________________________________
I never knew air could be so solid before. Should you have to feel like you're pushing and invisible wall as you walk outside? A solid, invisible, sweat-creating wall.
____________________________________________
My education class wasn't entirely useless- I was reminded of tricky situations that you should be aware of too: http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/07/19/ncschools.resegregation.rally/
____________________________________________
I have never worked so hard to build a poorly functioning trebuchet than I did today, after my camper said, "This'll be my fifth failure this week!" No, young sir, you are not going to fail this time, even if I have to make an oddly shaped contraption out of your base and hold it in place as it swings wildly, almost nailing your fellow builder in the head with a tiny LEGO connector piece that I couldn't find later.
____________________________________________
You're talking to me! You're talking to me! You're talking to me! And... now you're gone.
____________________________________________
I desperately wish you'd never leave.
____________________________________________
I talk about raptors a lot.
____________________________________________
So do these guys.
____________________________________________
I compulsively sing along to songs I hear that I know.
____________________________________________
You know that the light that hits your eyes from stars is coming from an incredible distance- little photons that have fought the vast emptiness of space to reach you here. The least you can do is look up.
____________________________________________
Monday, July 19, 2010
Good Line
As some of you may have heard, my cousin died Saturday night. He served two tours in Iraq, was enrolled in college for the fall and was settling back into life in Pennsylvania. The local newspaper had an article: Mishap kills Tyrone Veteran.He was twenty-two.
Twenty-two.
Veterans are old men who served in World War II or Korea or Vietnam or at latest, the Gulf Wars. Veterans aren't men a year older than me. Veterans aren't twenty-two. People who are twenty-two don't have to go away and fight for their countries and see things that no person of any age should have to see. And they should not have to survive all of that, live through all of that, only to come back to die in an accident, a pointless tragedy that brings more pain to their family than a death overseas might.
Veterans are twenty-two. Veterans are nineteen. Veterans are men and women who have fought because their country asked for someone to fight, who have been courageous because that is what their path in life demanded of them. There is a whole new generation of veterans. Remember them. Treat them well. Understand them and respect them. Make them proud of the land they fight for.
I just don't see how it's fair, how it could ever be fair, how it could ever be right. That's my cousin. My cousin. My aunt's son. Would I be making a fuss over someone else's son in the paper? No, for better or for worse, I don't go looking through the paper to see the unfairness and pain in the world, though, truth be told, I wouldn't have far to look. This one story was brought to me. And it's not right.
It's not right that I should be here fine and someone else shouldn't have the chance to live out the rest of their life. It's not right that I should have the chance to worry about tiny things like my current odd propensity to be socially awkward (I apologize ahead of time, I must not have spent enough time around people). It's not right that I should have the time to maintain all these regrets, things I've said that I didn't mean to be taken that way, actions I've taken, actions I haven't taken, things I haven't said. I have the chance every day of my life to breathe again free air and start over. I have the chance to live a great life, I have the opportunity to be wonderful for someone, I have the whole world in front of me. The parents have the rest of my life to be proud of me, to talk to me, to hug me, to tell stories about me and watch me be embarrassed, to see me grow up, start a family, to see me have children of my own. They don't have to bury their child.
My mom was sending me the link to the article on Chris and she told me to keep the family in my prayers because "I think you have a good line to God." Really God, do I? Do I have a good line to You? Does that mean that if I had kept on praying once he got back from Iraq, my family wouldn't be gathering for another funeral? Does that mean that You'll explain it all to me, that you'll drop comforting phrases down from heaven to heal the heart of my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my grandparents, my parents? Does this mean that You'll make it at least bearable? And is that all the mercy I have saved up on my account?
Twenty-two.
Veterans are old men who served in World War II or Korea or Vietnam or at latest, the Gulf Wars. Veterans aren't men a year older than me. Veterans aren't twenty-two. People who are twenty-two don't have to go away and fight for their countries and see things that no person of any age should have to see. And they should not have to survive all of that, live through all of that, only to come back to die in an accident, a pointless tragedy that brings more pain to their family than a death overseas might.
Veterans are twenty-two. Veterans are nineteen. Veterans are men and women who have fought because their country asked for someone to fight, who have been courageous because that is what their path in life demanded of them. There is a whole new generation of veterans. Remember them. Treat them well. Understand them and respect them. Make them proud of the land they fight for.
I just don't see how it's fair, how it could ever be fair, how it could ever be right. That's my cousin. My cousin. My aunt's son. Would I be making a fuss over someone else's son in the paper? No, for better or for worse, I don't go looking through the paper to see the unfairness and pain in the world, though, truth be told, I wouldn't have far to look. This one story was brought to me. And it's not right.
It's not right that I should be here fine and someone else shouldn't have the chance to live out the rest of their life. It's not right that I should have the chance to worry about tiny things like my current odd propensity to be socially awkward (I apologize ahead of time, I must not have spent enough time around people). It's not right that I should have the time to maintain all these regrets, things I've said that I didn't mean to be taken that way, actions I've taken, actions I haven't taken, things I haven't said. I have the chance every day of my life to breathe again free air and start over. I have the chance to live a great life, I have the opportunity to be wonderful for someone, I have the whole world in front of me. The parents have the rest of my life to be proud of me, to talk to me, to hug me, to tell stories about me and watch me be embarrassed, to see me grow up, start a family, to see me have children of my own. They don't have to bury their child.
My mom was sending me the link to the article on Chris and she told me to keep the family in my prayers because "I think you have a good line to God." Really God, do I? Do I have a good line to You? Does that mean that if I had kept on praying once he got back from Iraq, my family wouldn't be gathering for another funeral? Does that mean that You'll explain it all to me, that you'll drop comforting phrases down from heaven to heal the heart of my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my grandparents, my parents? Does this mean that You'll make it at least bearable? And is that all the mercy I have saved up on my account?
CTOPS Kvetching Board
Dear CTOPs parents:
1) If there's a couch in front of a door, chances are it doesn't actually open. Stop trying the handle behind my couch in Graham Memorial.
2) Authentic Chapel Hill cuisine? Top-O and Peppers. Authentic college kid food? B-Skis. Where you actually want to eat lunch? How should I know? I stopped trying to understand people's tastes a long time ago.
3) Stop judging me because I'm taking a class during the summer. I didn't fail, I'm just making time for my excessive extracurricular activities, which are much less important in college than they are in high school because grad schools want to know that you're smart. Aaaaahhhhh I don't want to decide my life!!!!!
4) I woke up at 6:45 this morning to catch a bus to come work so I can pay my rent. Don't judge me as I nap on the most comfortable couch that higher learning has to offer.
5) You should file a complaint because no one told you where the admissions office is. You should grow a brain cell or two because you can't use a campus map and have an amazing knack for finding yourself a good twenty minute walk from where you want to be.
6) I dearly hope your child is smarter than you are.
As a side point, I hope you know that college is a world unto itself, with its own humor and own existence, really (see http://survivingtheworld.net/ for proof). Your child will thank you for the money you're spending not only to introduce them to this new world, but also to hopefully better prepare them for the job that doesn't await them after graduation.
7) I had hoped I'd be back longer than two days before you swarmed my campus and took away my happiness.
Carolina Testing and Orientation Programs. So much more scarring when you're working them than when you're attending them.
1) If there's a couch in front of a door, chances are it doesn't actually open. Stop trying the handle behind my couch in Graham Memorial.
2) Authentic Chapel Hill cuisine? Top-O and Peppers. Authentic college kid food? B-Skis. Where you actually want to eat lunch? How should I know? I stopped trying to understand people's tastes a long time ago.
3) Stop judging me because I'm taking a class during the summer. I didn't fail, I'm just making time for my excessive extracurricular activities, which are much less important in college than they are in high school because grad schools want to know that you're smart. Aaaaahhhhh I don't want to decide my life!!!!!
4) I woke up at 6:45 this morning to catch a bus to come work so I can pay my rent. Don't judge me as I nap on the most comfortable couch that higher learning has to offer.
5) You should file a complaint because no one told you where the admissions office is. You should grow a brain cell or two because you can't use a campus map and have an amazing knack for finding yourself a good twenty minute walk from where you want to be.
6) I dearly hope your child is smarter than you are.
As a side point, I hope you know that college is a world unto itself, with its own humor and own existence, really (see http://survivingtheworld.net/ for proof). Your child will thank you for the money you're spending not only to introduce them to this new world, but also to hopefully better prepare them for the job that doesn't await them after graduation.
7) I had hoped I'd be back longer than two days before you swarmed my campus and took away my happiness.
Carolina Testing and Orientation Programs. So much more scarring when you're working them than when you're attending them.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Make Every Place Love
[I don't think this one needs a warning. Maybe a strong caution?]
Love is a place. And I think I just left it.
I came back home after work and washed the last of the pool out of my hair. Don't get me wrong, it's been a comfort these past couple of shifts to have that familiar yet vaguely unpleasant smell in my nose as I wash dishes and scrub floors and occasionally serve people ice cream, but I don't love it so much that I'd keep it around. After the shower, I sat down to my computer and began searching for someone else's words to describe what it's like to love a place.
No one talks about that. Well, and then some do. But you can't quote James Taylor unless you're talking about Carolina (dark and silent late last night I think I might have heard the highway calling) and no one seems to really talk just about loving a place in general, they just talk about the place they love. So I guess three pages into "place quotes" and one awesome youtube video with Ten/Rose and the song Love is a Place later, I'm stuck having to find my own words to describe what it's like to love this place.
I just don't want to fail at telling you what it felt like to leave camp for the last time this summer, knowing it's the last. There's the camp sign that says Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you and I couldn't even look at that. Pray for a thousand years that He'll be faithful to that for these wonderful little people who take my heart away. I'm hiding under my sunglasses with the air conditioning on high and the green leafy dark of a Thursday afternoon out in the woods is peeking in through my windshield. It seems like every curve of the road that's taking me away is fighting against me. There's this tug on my stomach, something pulling me back all the time. I absolutely hate that this isn't the first time I've felt that.
I thought about saying good-bye to everything. I'd drive up to the gazebo (What's a ka-see-bo? One of my favorite camper questions) and sit on the swing and just feel the Spirit move the air around. I'd walk into the back of the Lamb's Chapel and the Shepherd's Shed and I'd pay my respects, remembering so many different songs. I wonder which ones I'd pick to play through my head as I find the exact corners that I see God in these spaces. I'd be tempted to walk up to the cabin, but I know it's not mine now. The poster I left two summers ago is as much a part of the upstairs wall as the second half of the God is Great! poster that's lived there ever since I've seen the place, but I can't take the cabin away from the counselors who stay there now. And I'd want to say good-bye to the campfire and remember its laugh. I'd want to go to the pond and feel its peace once again and go to the creek and let its waters freeze my bare feet one more time. I'd smile at the pool and the field where my campers fell asleep as I spent entirely too much time looking to the stars and not to them.
That place is never empty. It's like the ghosts of campers past float around and rustle the leaves (Have you ever seen a tree laugh?) and whistle through screens and windows. "There is nothing like returning back to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered" - Nelson Mandela. Even though I know it's not, I feel like camp is eternal and changeless. The faces change, the staff comes and goes, but if you told me God was hiding in one place, this would be my first guess. He touches somewhere and the feeling remains. You could take away the cabins and the road and the pool and the barn and camp would still be there.
OK, this is dumb. But how else do you pay tribute to the place where you grew up? What else do you say to commemorate four summers (five summers if you count where my brain was last summer... six if you count the all-too-short time that I spent there these past three weeks)? Beautiful souls. Maybe it's a trick of the light out there, but I feel like anyone who walks in there has a beautiful soul again, no matter the mess we make of it when we walk out.
Listen, I just wanted it to know how much it meant to me. The summer before my freshman year, I went to CTOPs in the middle of the summer, in the middle of camp. While I was at orientation, my heart was at camp, for a thousand confused reasons, and for a thousand more clear ones, and I spent my free time writing notes of encouragement to the staff members that I'd give to them when I got back in a few days. Now I don't think my senior year will be long enough to fill my heart with enough Chapel Hill to last me a lifetime (goodness knows I'm going to try) but I really think in some weird way that I've had all I need of camp, and someone determined a while ago that it had all it needed of me. Someone else needs an incubator for their soul, a reminder that God loves them too (that God really, truly, deeply, honestly, faithfully, courageously, unforgivably loves them too) and a reason to stand up for people whose legs have been knocked out from underneath them, to speak up for people whose voices have been weakened and to work for those people who deserve more out of life than life's seen fit to give them. Someone else must need a living bible to teach them the important things about faith, and the fun things about faith, and the awesome and unspeakable joys that faithfully doing work with God can bring.
Someone else must need to feel like they're worth something again.
God, take that place and make it beautiful for someone else. Keep my campers safe. Be with the staff. Work through my beaten down words to find the heart that's forgotten to praise You and make it whole again. God, I wince to see the Jesus camp that this whole story is going to be reduced to. Breathe into my life. What a miracle You'll work if You can make every place Love.
Love is a place. And I think I just left it.
I came back home after work and washed the last of the pool out of my hair. Don't get me wrong, it's been a comfort these past couple of shifts to have that familiar yet vaguely unpleasant smell in my nose as I wash dishes and scrub floors and occasionally serve people ice cream, but I don't love it so much that I'd keep it around. After the shower, I sat down to my computer and began searching for someone else's words to describe what it's like to love a place.
No one talks about that. Well, and then some do. But you can't quote James Taylor unless you're talking about Carolina (dark and silent late last night I think I might have heard the highway calling) and no one seems to really talk just about loving a place in general, they just talk about the place they love. So I guess three pages into "place quotes" and one awesome youtube video with Ten/Rose and the song Love is a Place later, I'm stuck having to find my own words to describe what it's like to love this place.
I just don't want to fail at telling you what it felt like to leave camp for the last time this summer, knowing it's the last. There's the camp sign that says Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you and I couldn't even look at that. Pray for a thousand years that He'll be faithful to that for these wonderful little people who take my heart away. I'm hiding under my sunglasses with the air conditioning on high and the green leafy dark of a Thursday afternoon out in the woods is peeking in through my windshield. It seems like every curve of the road that's taking me away is fighting against me. There's this tug on my stomach, something pulling me back all the time. I absolutely hate that this isn't the first time I've felt that.
I thought about saying good-bye to everything. I'd drive up to the gazebo (What's a ka-see-bo? One of my favorite camper questions) and sit on the swing and just feel the Spirit move the air around. I'd walk into the back of the Lamb's Chapel and the Shepherd's Shed and I'd pay my respects, remembering so many different songs. I wonder which ones I'd pick to play through my head as I find the exact corners that I see God in these spaces. I'd be tempted to walk up to the cabin, but I know it's not mine now. The poster I left two summers ago is as much a part of the upstairs wall as the second half of the God is Great! poster that's lived there ever since I've seen the place, but I can't take the cabin away from the counselors who stay there now. And I'd want to say good-bye to the campfire and remember its laugh. I'd want to go to the pond and feel its peace once again and go to the creek and let its waters freeze my bare feet one more time. I'd smile at the pool and the field where my campers fell asleep as I spent entirely too much time looking to the stars and not to them.
That place is never empty. It's like the ghosts of campers past float around and rustle the leaves (Have you ever seen a tree laugh?) and whistle through screens and windows. "There is nothing like returning back to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered" - Nelson Mandela. Even though I know it's not, I feel like camp is eternal and changeless. The faces change, the staff comes and goes, but if you told me God was hiding in one place, this would be my first guess. He touches somewhere and the feeling remains. You could take away the cabins and the road and the pool and the barn and camp would still be there.
OK, this is dumb. But how else do you pay tribute to the place where you grew up? What else do you say to commemorate four summers (five summers if you count where my brain was last summer... six if you count the all-too-short time that I spent there these past three weeks)? Beautiful souls. Maybe it's a trick of the light out there, but I feel like anyone who walks in there has a beautiful soul again, no matter the mess we make of it when we walk out.
Listen, I just wanted it to know how much it meant to me. The summer before my freshman year, I went to CTOPs in the middle of the summer, in the middle of camp. While I was at orientation, my heart was at camp, for a thousand confused reasons, and for a thousand more clear ones, and I spent my free time writing notes of encouragement to the staff members that I'd give to them when I got back in a few days. Now I don't think my senior year will be long enough to fill my heart with enough Chapel Hill to last me a lifetime (goodness knows I'm going to try) but I really think in some weird way that I've had all I need of camp, and someone determined a while ago that it had all it needed of me. Someone else needs an incubator for their soul, a reminder that God loves them too (that God really, truly, deeply, honestly, faithfully, courageously, unforgivably loves them too) and a reason to stand up for people whose legs have been knocked out from underneath them, to speak up for people whose voices have been weakened and to work for those people who deserve more out of life than life's seen fit to give them. Someone else must need a living bible to teach them the important things about faith, and the fun things about faith, and the awesome and unspeakable joys that faithfully doing work with God can bring.
Someone else must need to feel like they're worth something again.
God, take that place and make it beautiful for someone else. Keep my campers safe. Be with the staff. Work through my beaten down words to find the heart that's forgotten to praise You and make it whole again. God, I wince to see the Jesus camp that this whole story is going to be reduced to. Breathe into my life. What a miracle You'll work if You can make every place Love.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
257 Weeks
Courtesy of my MP3 player on shuffle. Nine Days is apparently my angry-happy jam. Ten points for someone who can explain why 257.
257 Weeks by Nine Days
You could be waiting for a day that won't come,
And you could be so much more than you've become.
And I have found my feet 257 weeks,
But you could be waiting for a day that won't come...
You could be waiting for your life to begin,
And you could be so much more than you've been.
And I have found my feet 257 weeks,
You could be waiting for your life to begin,
And it's so sad,
You're so good and I'm so bad!
But you won't see me wasting the best thing I've ever had.
And it's such a shame,
That I can't tell you anything!
You won't hear me still you endear me now!...
Hard to see the window facing forward looking back,
Over years spent tracing wondering how you left your track.
Underwater breathing burns your lungs and breaks your back,
And you could be waiting right here for a day that won't come...
And it's so sad,
You're so good and I'm so bad!
But you won't see me wasting the best thing I've ever had!
And it's such a shame,
That I can't tell you anything!
You won't hear me still you endear me now!...
You could be waiting for your life to begin,
And you could be so much more than you've been.
And I have found my feet 257 weeks,
But you could be waiting for your life to begin...
And it's so sad,
You're so good and I'm so bad!
But you won't see me wasting the best thing I've ever had!
And it's such a shame,
That I can't tell you anything!
You won't hear me still you endear me...
And it's so sad,
You're so good and I'm so bad!
But you won't see me wasting the best thing I've ever had!
And it's such a shame,
That I can't tell you anything!
You won't hear me still you endear me now!...
Still you endear me now!...
Still you endear me now!...
257 Weeks by Nine Days
You could be waiting for a day that won't come,
And you could be so much more than you've become.
And I have found my feet 257 weeks,
But you could be waiting for a day that won't come...
You could be waiting for your life to begin,
And you could be so much more than you've been.
And I have found my feet 257 weeks,
You could be waiting for your life to begin,
And it's so sad,
You're so good and I'm so bad!
But you won't see me wasting the best thing I've ever had.
And it's such a shame,
That I can't tell you anything!
You won't hear me still you endear me now!...
Hard to see the window facing forward looking back,
Over years spent tracing wondering how you left your track.
Underwater breathing burns your lungs and breaks your back,
And you could be waiting right here for a day that won't come...
And it's so sad,
You're so good and I'm so bad!
But you won't see me wasting the best thing I've ever had!
And it's such a shame,
That I can't tell you anything!
You won't hear me still you endear me now!...
You could be waiting for your life to begin,
And you could be so much more than you've been.
And I have found my feet 257 weeks,
But you could be waiting for your life to begin...
And it's so sad,
You're so good and I'm so bad!
But you won't see me wasting the best thing I've ever had!
And it's such a shame,
That I can't tell you anything!
You won't hear me still you endear me...
And it's so sad,
You're so good and I'm so bad!
But you won't see me wasting the best thing I've ever had!
And it's such a shame,
That I can't tell you anything!
You won't hear me still you endear me now!...
Still you endear me now!...
Still you endear me now!...
Monday, July 12, 2010
Soapbox
So, nothing against South Caldwell, Home of the Spartans, and nothing against Caldwell County, where our native speakers tend to loose and L when we pronounce it (and an R in library... so frustrating), but I feel like I got the tough end of the stick when I watch this video from Oprah.
Now, my school wasn't that terrible (and the merca was cleaned up super fast out of those locker rooms), but we didn't have an Olympic sized pool (yeah, half hour daily bus rides to Lenoir for swim team!) or a cardio room, so the comparison was just ridiculous. I had to watch all this for my education class, as well as read a ton of boring stats on how poverty is going up in the South and how, nation-wide as well as in the South, the United States is on its way to becoming a majority minority county. All right, I say boring because I want to block it out of my heart. Not the minority part, I'm totes cool with the increasing diversity of the country, I think it'll be awesome, but I'm not up for watching more kids live in poverty. I'm not ready to see our school system become anymore shameful than it already is.
So today I bring you my blackboard post for my teaching class. I got on a roll and then I got on a soap box and then I brought in a personal story and then I jumped up and down on my soapbox and then I clicked submit. In this class, my goal is to get an A and fly under the radar, so I kinda want to take my post back. I don't want to sound like a self-righteous jerk. "You, yes you, are funding the corporate empire that is America that ignores its poor and needy and you don't even care enough to make a well-phrased yet passionate complaint about it." Holy schnikes, if you're going to lecture me about how much I care about students and education, jerk in my education class, I am going to walk away before I send a virtual punch in your direction. I know it's bad. I want to hear how you're going to fix it. I want to hear how you're going to care, as in a verb, a thing you do. Or maybe your school system didn't cover that tense, you know, the future tense where you go and do something. *Breathes heavily* Jerk.
Enjoy my soapbox.
"One thought that really hit me as I went through this material is how blase I was about it. Through most of it, just reading the stats on the segregation or the majority of students living in poverty or reading the stories about kids going to classes in trailers, I was wondering why anyone was surprised by this. I kept thinking back to the video [Oprah!], where the suburban students were shocked at coming to the other school, at the cracked seat in the weight room and the leaking gym. I spent a fair amount of time in my high school weight room for swim team and we had cracked seats too. And with the tracking and de facto segregation, again, that's just how schools are. I kept thinking, "And your point is?"
What I'd like to see is not more revealing stories, unless they're directed at the people at the top of the pyramid who might not yet realize what it's been like here at the bottom, but ways to correct the disparities. I was encouraged by a couple of the stories at the beginning of the Kozol reading [The Shame of the Nation, Jonathan Kozol, Chapter 7, Excluding Beauty] where teachers were still able to make a kid-friendly environment even though their school buildings were terrible. Teachers shouldn't have to work through that, but they should be able to, you know, to make the best of their surroundings.
Also, shout out to the band! It made it as one of the more racially diverse organizations [Clotfelter, Inside Schools, Chapter 5, Classrooms and School Activities]. Band can be like athletics- they raise their own money for equipment. I went to a school where the band director worked to raise the money for new instruments. The first french horn I learned to play on was duct-taped together (that's a great story) but I was still able to learn music well enough to place into the district band and into an ensemble here [at Carolina]. By my senior year of high school, I had worked up to one of the newer, better instruments and my old horn was only being used because our program and section had out-grown the instrument purchases [OK, so Childers bought a bunch of new mellophones my freshman year {I learned on an altonium, before he bought them, that was a party as well} so the french horn story isn't 100% true, but it would have been, if he would have just bought a couple of nice double horns... or bought replacement string for the ones that were there... and maybe did some welding... I digress].
So, I guess, coming from a high school with a ridiculously high drop-out rate, a middle school in a building that was built almost a hundred years ago and an elementary school where the academically gifted program was held in a trailer, I'm not surprised by the disparities between rich and poor and the segregation that still goes on. I'm just ready to see our nation move past it, to a time where success stories don't have to happen."
Now, my school wasn't that terrible (and the merca was cleaned up super fast out of those locker rooms), but we didn't have an Olympic sized pool (yeah, half hour daily bus rides to Lenoir for swim team!) or a cardio room, so the comparison was just ridiculous. I had to watch all this for my education class, as well as read a ton of boring stats on how poverty is going up in the South and how, nation-wide as well as in the South, the United States is on its way to becoming a majority minority county. All right, I say boring because I want to block it out of my heart. Not the minority part, I'm totes cool with the increasing diversity of the country, I think it'll be awesome, but I'm not up for watching more kids live in poverty. I'm not ready to see our school system become anymore shameful than it already is.
So today I bring you my blackboard post for my teaching class. I got on a roll and then I got on a soap box and then I brought in a personal story and then I jumped up and down on my soapbox and then I clicked submit. In this class, my goal is to get an A and fly under the radar, so I kinda want to take my post back. I don't want to sound like a self-righteous jerk. "You, yes you, are funding the corporate empire that is America that ignores its poor and needy and you don't even care enough to make a well-phrased yet passionate complaint about it." Holy schnikes, if you're going to lecture me about how much I care about students and education, jerk in my education class, I am going to walk away before I send a virtual punch in your direction. I know it's bad. I want to hear how you're going to fix it. I want to hear how you're going to care, as in a verb, a thing you do. Or maybe your school system didn't cover that tense, you know, the future tense where you go and do something. *Breathes heavily* Jerk.
Enjoy my soapbox.
"One thought that really hit me as I went through this material is how blase I was about it. Through most of it, just reading the stats on the segregation or the majority of students living in poverty or reading the stories about kids going to classes in trailers, I was wondering why anyone was surprised by this. I kept thinking back to the video [Oprah!], where the suburban students were shocked at coming to the other school, at the cracked seat in the weight room and the leaking gym. I spent a fair amount of time in my high school weight room for swim team and we had cracked seats too. And with the tracking and de facto segregation, again, that's just how schools are. I kept thinking, "And your point is?"
What I'd like to see is not more revealing stories, unless they're directed at the people at the top of the pyramid who might not yet realize what it's been like here at the bottom, but ways to correct the disparities. I was encouraged by a couple of the stories at the beginning of the Kozol reading [The Shame of the Nation, Jonathan Kozol, Chapter 7, Excluding Beauty] where teachers were still able to make a kid-friendly environment even though their school buildings were terrible. Teachers shouldn't have to work through that, but they should be able to, you know, to make the best of their surroundings.
Also, shout out to the band! It made it as one of the more racially diverse organizations [Clotfelter, Inside Schools, Chapter 5, Classrooms and School Activities]. Band can be like athletics- they raise their own money for equipment. I went to a school where the band director worked to raise the money for new instruments. The first french horn I learned to play on was duct-taped together (that's a great story) but I was still able to learn music well enough to place into the district band and into an ensemble here [at Carolina]. By my senior year of high school, I had worked up to one of the newer, better instruments and my old horn was only being used because our program and section had out-grown the instrument purchases [OK, so Childers bought a bunch of new mellophones my freshman year {I learned on an altonium, before he bought them, that was a party as well} so the french horn story isn't 100% true, but it would have been, if he would have just bought a couple of nice double horns... or bought replacement string for the ones that were there... and maybe did some welding... I digress].
So, I guess, coming from a high school with a ridiculously high drop-out rate, a middle school in a building that was built almost a hundred years ago and an elementary school where the academically gifted program was held in a trailer, I'm not surprised by the disparities between rich and poor and the segregation that still goes on. I'm just ready to see our nation move past it, to a time where success stories don't have to happen."
Saturday, July 10, 2010
I Gotta Stop Reading Fairytales Part II
"Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed." --G.K. Chesterton
First
So I am eternally jealous of people who make connections with other people. I watch other people care about each other and I wonder why that's never me. One of my friends was talking about her insecurities and she said, "I wonder why I'm never the first in anyone's life." It was so perfectly me that I had to say it again.
I hate being made a liar even more than I hate being a liar. I went over to camp on Monday and helped out with the swim test (and swam more than I have in a year, darn you, UNC pools) and ran away to work. I went to camp on Tuesday and helped out at the pool and ran away to class. Just as I was leaving, one of my campers from two years ago came over and said, "Where are you going? I only came over here because you were here." I laughed it off and said, "Well, I'll be here tomorrow, so you can come over here tomorrow."
I wasn't there tomorrow.
My older brother came back from China on Thursday. He made it back to North Carolina on Friday. I spent Wednesday cleaning out his room in the basement, discovering a new telescope (yes!), and inhaling loads and loads of dust. And making friends with spiders. I'm going soft in my old age- I almost felt bad tearing down their homes and shooing them out of the basement. So I didn't go to camp on Wednesday. I didn't go to camp on Thursday. I'm trying to decide what I actually did this week. I worked. I threw ice cream. I made tips. I deck brushed that entire backroom floor and my shoulder still hurts. I wallowed in self-pity, I think.
I went to camp on Friday. Friday mornings are the opposite of Sunday mornings, in my book. They're the last chance I have to see these wonderful people who have come into my life and the day that I have to decide whether they get to come into mine. Other counselors would give away their phone numbers and their addresses. It took me four years to give away my address and my phone number, and even then, it was to the kids who I trusted enough, the ones I wanted to know outside of the five days a year I saw them. So I guess the reason I'm not first in anyone's life is because no one's first in mine.
I really came on Friday morning to see this one camper again. It's her last year and she wants to go to UNC and she smiled and hugged me when I showed up at lunch on Monday and she was one of the hardest campers I ever had to deal with, which makes her one of the best. She left and I hugged her goodbye and that was that. And then she friended me on Facebook and that makes me smile immensely.
But I was watching a group of kids after everyone else had gotten picked up and while the staff was having their meeting. I really wanted to sit in on the meeting, to tell the counselors that morning devotions really do help, because you're putting something in at the beginning of the day. I mean, I love to sleep and even I would recommend that half an hour. And I recommend sleeping and praying and talking with your campers, getting to know them, loving them, caring for them, working with them because that's what you're here for. I wanted to share four summers' worth of rather hard-won wisdom. I watched kids instead, so I guess I was really meant to learn instead of teach on Friday.
Israel has been coming to camp for four summers. I remember him. He can do awesome flips on the trampoline, I found out, but he alternates between wanting you to love him and shutting off. For instance, I did a flip on the trampoline (OK, it's half a flip, I land on my butt, but it's the best I can do) and while the girls were trying to reenact the weird sideways twist I did (darn bulging disk), Israel said, over and over again, "No, that was tight. That was awesome." Here's this kid who gets big and tries to push everyone around the second anyone even thinks of making less of him, and he's complimenting my pathetic little flip. These are the best kids, you know that? They are wonderful, I don't care what you say. They will never be high risk as long as there's someone there to love them like they deserve to be loved. But you will label them and you will talk about them in the staff room and you will pass them on the street and shake your head. Are they first in anyone's life? Because that top place is sitting there open in theirs. Someone has to love them.
One of my campers called me today. My freshman year of high school (I swear, five and half years is penance enough) two guys called me, within half an hour of each other, to ask me out. The first one said that he loved me and I think I laughed. Hopefully internally. You don't love someone when you're a freshman in high school. I've since convinced myself that you don't love someone when you're a freshman in college either. I told him that I must be first in a long list of girls and I said something else. First in a list. So that ended that one. The next one called me and i said that I couldn't go out with him because I was in love with someone else. And you know, I think I was, but that is a long long story, but that ended that call. And ever since, I always tend to wonder where I am on someone's list when they're calling to ask for something.
I didn't wonder when Hannah called because it doesn't matter. I'm in her life, no matter how failingly,and all I want to do is help. She told me to pray because her cousin, she's been praying, and she feels like He's not listening. I mean, what do you tell someone who says that God's not listening? "Oh, what a coincidence, He's not listening to me either"? "Oh, you just need to pray harder"? I will never say that. "You just gotta have faith." I wish they didn't sound so empty. It was weird, the second I hung up, I prayed. And I had no clue what to pray for and I had no clue if it's going to work or what it's going to do, but these words came to me and I said them to the great powers in the sky. And why on earth would God listen to me? There are so many more qualified, more faithful people for Him to listen to, better people who are honest and true and less stubborn and obedient and unquestioning. There are people who don't have reasons to list for why God shouldn't listen to them. Why should He listen to me?
Because He loves me. And you. Everyone. And in some cases, it's this love that would be pathetic coming from anyone else, because it's never going to be returned. They don't even know He exists. Some people get confused, some don't care, some don't need it, some don't want it, some have somebody else. Some love Him, some don't and that's your business. Mine is to be amazed. Amazed, because, no matter what happens, He listens. You and I and six billion other people break His heart daily and He listens and He loves and He never lets go. That doesn't have to change your world and I'll never understand why it doesn't change His, but it stops mine from spinning.
Great thing is, He doesn't want to be first. He only wants to be everything.
I hate being made a liar even more than I hate being a liar. I went over to camp on Monday and helped out with the swim test (and swam more than I have in a year, darn you, UNC pools) and ran away to work. I went to camp on Tuesday and helped out at the pool and ran away to class. Just as I was leaving, one of my campers from two years ago came over and said, "Where are you going? I only came over here because you were here." I laughed it off and said, "Well, I'll be here tomorrow, so you can come over here tomorrow."
I wasn't there tomorrow.
My older brother came back from China on Thursday. He made it back to North Carolina on Friday. I spent Wednesday cleaning out his room in the basement, discovering a new telescope (yes!), and inhaling loads and loads of dust. And making friends with spiders. I'm going soft in my old age- I almost felt bad tearing down their homes and shooing them out of the basement. So I didn't go to camp on Wednesday. I didn't go to camp on Thursday. I'm trying to decide what I actually did this week. I worked. I threw ice cream. I made tips. I deck brushed that entire backroom floor and my shoulder still hurts. I wallowed in self-pity, I think.
I went to camp on Friday. Friday mornings are the opposite of Sunday mornings, in my book. They're the last chance I have to see these wonderful people who have come into my life and the day that I have to decide whether they get to come into mine. Other counselors would give away their phone numbers and their addresses. It took me four years to give away my address and my phone number, and even then, it was to the kids who I trusted enough, the ones I wanted to know outside of the five days a year I saw them. So I guess the reason I'm not first in anyone's life is because no one's first in mine.
I really came on Friday morning to see this one camper again. It's her last year and she wants to go to UNC and she smiled and hugged me when I showed up at lunch on Monday and she was one of the hardest campers I ever had to deal with, which makes her one of the best. She left and I hugged her goodbye and that was that. And then she friended me on Facebook and that makes me smile immensely.
But I was watching a group of kids after everyone else had gotten picked up and while the staff was having their meeting. I really wanted to sit in on the meeting, to tell the counselors that morning devotions really do help, because you're putting something in at the beginning of the day. I mean, I love to sleep and even I would recommend that half an hour. And I recommend sleeping and praying and talking with your campers, getting to know them, loving them, caring for them, working with them because that's what you're here for. I wanted to share four summers' worth of rather hard-won wisdom. I watched kids instead, so I guess I was really meant to learn instead of teach on Friday.
Israel has been coming to camp for four summers. I remember him. He can do awesome flips on the trampoline, I found out, but he alternates between wanting you to love him and shutting off. For instance, I did a flip on the trampoline (OK, it's half a flip, I land on my butt, but it's the best I can do) and while the girls were trying to reenact the weird sideways twist I did (darn bulging disk), Israel said, over and over again, "No, that was tight. That was awesome." Here's this kid who gets big and tries to push everyone around the second anyone even thinks of making less of him, and he's complimenting my pathetic little flip. These are the best kids, you know that? They are wonderful, I don't care what you say. They will never be high risk as long as there's someone there to love them like they deserve to be loved. But you will label them and you will talk about them in the staff room and you will pass them on the street and shake your head. Are they first in anyone's life? Because that top place is sitting there open in theirs. Someone has to love them.
One of my campers called me today. My freshman year of high school (I swear, five and half years is penance enough) two guys called me, within half an hour of each other, to ask me out. The first one said that he loved me and I think I laughed. Hopefully internally. You don't love someone when you're a freshman in high school. I've since convinced myself that you don't love someone when you're a freshman in college either. I told him that I must be first in a long list of girls and I said something else. First in a list. So that ended that one. The next one called me and i said that I couldn't go out with him because I was in love with someone else. And you know, I think I was, but that is a long long story, but that ended that call. And ever since, I always tend to wonder where I am on someone's list when they're calling to ask for something.
I didn't wonder when Hannah called because it doesn't matter. I'm in her life, no matter how failingly,and all I want to do is help. She told me to pray because her cousin, she's been praying, and she feels like He's not listening. I mean, what do you tell someone who says that God's not listening? "Oh, what a coincidence, He's not listening to me either"? "Oh, you just need to pray harder"? I will never say that. "You just gotta have faith." I wish they didn't sound so empty. It was weird, the second I hung up, I prayed. And I had no clue what to pray for and I had no clue if it's going to work or what it's going to do, but these words came to me and I said them to the great powers in the sky. And why on earth would God listen to me? There are so many more qualified, more faithful people for Him to listen to, better people who are honest and true and less stubborn and obedient and unquestioning. There are people who don't have reasons to list for why God shouldn't listen to them. Why should He listen to me?
Because He loves me. And you. Everyone. And in some cases, it's this love that would be pathetic coming from anyone else, because it's never going to be returned. They don't even know He exists. Some people get confused, some don't care, some don't need it, some don't want it, some have somebody else. Some love Him, some don't and that's your business. Mine is to be amazed. Amazed, because, no matter what happens, He listens. You and I and six billion other people break His heart daily and He listens and He loves and He never lets go. That doesn't have to change your world and I'll never understand why it doesn't change His, but it stops mine from spinning.
Great thing is, He doesn't want to be first. He only wants to be everything.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Wikiquote Is Awesome
My brother comes back from China and brings me Firefly. Love this show. It's cowboys+space=awesomeness. Anyways. There's this girl who's been experimented on by the government, so she's a little out of it, but she's a genius and her name is River. The preachers in this little made up world are called Shepherds. It's always interesting, profundity in sci-fi shows.
[Shepherd Book prepares a meal as he absentmindedly addresses River.]
[Shepherd Book prepares a meal as he absentmindedly addresses River.]
- Book:: What are we up to, sweetheart?
- River: Fixing your Bible.
- Book: I, um... What?
- [Pan over to River, who works on a book with pens, brushes, and loose pages.]
- River: Bible's broken. Contradictions, false logistics... doesn't make sense.
- Book: No, no. You—you can't...
- River: So we'll integrate non-progressional evolution theory with God's creation of Eden. Eleven inherent metaphoric parallels already there. Eleven. Important number. Prime number. One goes into the house of eleven eleven times, but always comes out one. Noah's ark is a problem.
- Book: Really?
- River: We'll have to call it "early quantum state phenomenon". Only way to fit 5,000 species of mammals on the same boat.. . .
- Book: River, you don't... fix the Bible.
- River: It's broken. It doesn't make sense.
- Book: It's not about... making sense. It's about believing in something. And letting that belief be real enough to change your life. It's about faith. You don't fix faith, River. It fixes you.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
I Gotta Stop Reading Fairytales
'Cause I see happiness in other people's lives and I gotta tell ya, it's not here. And I don't know if it's me or if it's life or if it's some unknowable combination of the two, but I want it. For the first time.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Shoes (Or, Sometimes I Think God Cheats)
So Saturday morning me and two of my awesome friends decided to watch the sunrise in the mountains and spend the rest of the day in silent meditation. Yup, that's what I said. Silent meditation. Well, we got to watch the sunrise (great story- pictures soon?) and we did have a good morning of silence, which deserves its own blog post. After one friend almost rolled down the mountain and suffered a severe flesh wound or two, we called off the silence, ate lunch and shopped before returning home. I came back to homework and another long, long story and didn't sleep until late, which was not cool because, as you all know, the sun rises rather early and Blowing Rock isn't particularly close to Hickory and friends make four hours of sleep dwindle down to three at best. Totally worth the lack of sleep, but I paid for it last night going into this morning.
I had to work at Cold Stone today (note the video of the Cinnamon Challenge on BookFace- it might really be the best thing I've done while working at that store; that and the fact that I caught and ice cream and threw and ice cream and didn't fail [!] today) so I was driving myself to church, which means not waking up at 7:30 to leave at 8... 15 to go with my mother but rather that I could leave whenever I wanted to. I could leave at 9:45, like I intended, to be at church in time for Sunday School, or I could leave at 10:15, like my second plan was, to be able to be down at church in time to learn the anthem to sing in the choir, or I could leave, last ditch effort, at 10:45 and be at church in time for the 11 o'clock service. Sleep is powerful. I left around 10:52, wearing my new purchase and a pair of brown flip flops that I picked out specifically to wear to church.
Ironic, you might say, if you knew me, because then you would know that I don't wear shoes at church. The story behind the lack of shoes in my church life is this: I live in the choir loft. One of the top ten weirdest feelings in my world is when I sit out in the congregation at my home church. I mostly sit back and think, "Oh! So that's what the choir loft looks like from the other side. Huh." So, naturally, I adapted to life in the choir loft. Most of my church shoes in high school were heel-ish things that made little clonking noises when I walked. I spent a lot of time walking from where the brass players sat up two rows to where I stood to sing. It is not, in my opinion, good manners to be clonking all over the place during prayers or when a pastor is talking, so I'd take off my shoes in the choir loft so I could pretend to be a ninja... in a white, flowy yet constricting choir robe... when I walked from place to place. One Christmas-y service, I'm sitting with my french horn in my lap and there's an awkward pause in the service. It's a service of lessons and carols and the awkward pause is not because we're supposed to be singing a carol, because I have a list in front of me and I'm playing on the next one so we are definitely not starting it yet. So Ron looks down and hands me a piece of paper and says, "Will you read this?" and I take it and say sure and he says, "Now?" The reader for the lesson had mixed up the service times and wasn't there to read the lesson. So, in my choir robe and without shoes, I walked up to the pulpit and read the lesson and walked back and played my french horn. Apparently feet are very visible in that space in between the choir loft and the pulpit. And so a legend was born.
I brought my shoes to wear to sit in the congregation this morning because everyone else in the congregation would have them on and I'd be walking in late and blah blah blah. I left them in the car. Explanation? None. I then snuck into the service late and realized it was a communion service, but (tragic organ chord) it was too late. I became engrossed in the hymn and the sermon and then it's too late to retrieve the shoes because it's communion time. It was the offering that did it- they moved the offering up before everything and I got confused and then I was stuck in the service. So I walked up to get communion barefoot, which isn't that bad- people don't point out your feet if you look up and act like you've got shoes on like everyone else- and I make it back to my seat without criticism. I dunno why I'm always nervous about being barefoot in the congregation. I guess I think they know what's up in the world of propriety and that the choir members love me enough to ignore it, but I'm always iffy about the congregation.
I intended to sneak out of the service as well, because, due to my oversleep and then that long story that kept me up later than was necessary, I wasn't in a super talkative mood. We have a new associate pastor and she was at the back shaking hands on the way out. I felt bad, because I got out of wearing a name tag because I was late. Well, no, I didn't feel bad because I got out of wearing a name tag- I hate those. I felt bad because now the new associate pastor won't know my name. But I smile and she shakes my hand and then points to my feet and says, "Barefoot. That's the best way to go to church. I used to go barefoot all the time until my mother yelled at me from the choir to put my shoes on." And I smile and say something like "Sweet!" or "Awesome!" or "Good call!" because those are my approving exclamations and walk away to the nursery to say hey to my mother (who stopped fighting the where-are-your-shoes battle long ago [PS she doesn't wear them either]) and then abscond some animal crackers before speeding away to my current place of employment.
See, but the point is, the new associate pastor will now know me as The Girl Without Shoes. I fully intend to take advantage of this. She doesn't think I'm going to be a teacher, so I'm not going to leave a conversation with her convinced I'm going to be a teacher. She doesn't think I'm going to be a pastor, so I'm less likely than usual to leave a conversation with her thinking I'm going to be a pastor. She doesn't read what I write, so she won't make me feel like I could really do this writing thing. She hasn't known me since high school, so she has no preconceptions about astrophysics (PPS- I bought a particle physics book and am super excited about it! Because me and physics is like that Jackson 5 song- "When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around..."). She doesn't know that I'm going to be a senior in the fall, that I really need to get on this decision-making thing, no matter how much I want to ignore it. She doesn't know that her comment and the sky tonight have swayed me back in one direction. She just knows that I appreciate bare feet on holy ground.
I think she knows the most important thing about me.
I had to work at Cold Stone today (note the video of the Cinnamon Challenge on BookFace- it might really be the best thing I've done while working at that store; that and the fact that I caught and ice cream and threw and ice cream and didn't fail [!] today) so I was driving myself to church, which means not waking up at 7:30 to leave at 8... 15 to go with my mother but rather that I could leave whenever I wanted to. I could leave at 9:45, like I intended, to be at church in time for Sunday School, or I could leave at 10:15, like my second plan was, to be able to be down at church in time to learn the anthem to sing in the choir, or I could leave, last ditch effort, at 10:45 and be at church in time for the 11 o'clock service. Sleep is powerful. I left around 10:52, wearing my new purchase and a pair of brown flip flops that I picked out specifically to wear to church.
Ironic, you might say, if you knew me, because then you would know that I don't wear shoes at church. The story behind the lack of shoes in my church life is this: I live in the choir loft. One of the top ten weirdest feelings in my world is when I sit out in the congregation at my home church. I mostly sit back and think, "Oh! So that's what the choir loft looks like from the other side. Huh." So, naturally, I adapted to life in the choir loft. Most of my church shoes in high school were heel-ish things that made little clonking noises when I walked. I spent a lot of time walking from where the brass players sat up two rows to where I stood to sing. It is not, in my opinion, good manners to be clonking all over the place during prayers or when a pastor is talking, so I'd take off my shoes in the choir loft so I could pretend to be a ninja... in a white, flowy yet constricting choir robe... when I walked from place to place. One Christmas-y service, I'm sitting with my french horn in my lap and there's an awkward pause in the service. It's a service of lessons and carols and the awkward pause is not because we're supposed to be singing a carol, because I have a list in front of me and I'm playing on the next one so we are definitely not starting it yet. So Ron looks down and hands me a piece of paper and says, "Will you read this?" and I take it and say sure and he says, "Now?" The reader for the lesson had mixed up the service times and wasn't there to read the lesson. So, in my choir robe and without shoes, I walked up to the pulpit and read the lesson and walked back and played my french horn. Apparently feet are very visible in that space in between the choir loft and the pulpit. And so a legend was born.
I brought my shoes to wear to sit in the congregation this morning because everyone else in the congregation would have them on and I'd be walking in late and blah blah blah. I left them in the car. Explanation? None. I then snuck into the service late and realized it was a communion service, but (tragic organ chord) it was too late. I became engrossed in the hymn and the sermon and then it's too late to retrieve the shoes because it's communion time. It was the offering that did it- they moved the offering up before everything and I got confused and then I was stuck in the service. So I walked up to get communion barefoot, which isn't that bad- people don't point out your feet if you look up and act like you've got shoes on like everyone else- and I make it back to my seat without criticism. I dunno why I'm always nervous about being barefoot in the congregation. I guess I think they know what's up in the world of propriety and that the choir members love me enough to ignore it, but I'm always iffy about the congregation.
I intended to sneak out of the service as well, because, due to my oversleep and then that long story that kept me up later than was necessary, I wasn't in a super talkative mood. We have a new associate pastor and she was at the back shaking hands on the way out. I felt bad, because I got out of wearing a name tag because I was late. Well, no, I didn't feel bad because I got out of wearing a name tag- I hate those. I felt bad because now the new associate pastor won't know my name. But I smile and she shakes my hand and then points to my feet and says, "Barefoot. That's the best way to go to church. I used to go barefoot all the time until my mother yelled at me from the choir to put my shoes on." And I smile and say something like "Sweet!" or "Awesome!" or "Good call!" because those are my approving exclamations and walk away to the nursery to say hey to my mother (who stopped fighting the where-are-your-shoes battle long ago [PS she doesn't wear them either]) and then abscond some animal crackers before speeding away to my current place of employment.
See, but the point is, the new associate pastor will now know me as The Girl Without Shoes. I fully intend to take advantage of this. She doesn't think I'm going to be a teacher, so I'm not going to leave a conversation with her convinced I'm going to be a teacher. She doesn't think I'm going to be a pastor, so I'm less likely than usual to leave a conversation with her thinking I'm going to be a pastor. She doesn't read what I write, so she won't make me feel like I could really do this writing thing. She hasn't known me since high school, so she has no preconceptions about astrophysics (PPS- I bought a particle physics book and am super excited about it! Because me and physics is like that Jackson 5 song- "When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around..."). She doesn't know that I'm going to be a senior in the fall, that I really need to get on this decision-making thing, no matter how much I want to ignore it. She doesn't know that her comment and the sky tonight have swayed me back in one direction. She just knows that I appreciate bare feet on holy ground.
I think she knows the most important thing about me.
Care (Or, The Problems Associated With Its Absence)
I used to pray for all of my campers every night. I can't believe that I did, now, but I used to. Most nights, after I had convinced myself that they were at least being sneaky about their late night conversations, I would sneak into the bathroom where the light was left on all night and sit crossed legged on the counter and write in a big fat notebook endless prayers for my girls. I'd pray for their families and for their safety, but mostly it was for the interpersonal conflicts and the fears they had. I'd pray for one girl to be able to see God in the world and be happy and for another girl to see how wonderful she is and find her worth in herself and for another one to open up to me enough so I could find out how best to talk to her and how to get her to get along with everyone else. I'd pray especially for the ones who didn't like me, because that's generally the first step to me not liking you and it's a long week when you can't like every one of your campers. Even on the nights when I laid down exhausted in my bed convinced that my head would hit the pillow and I would no choice but to succumb to sleep's greater power, my conscious would beat my brain and I'd at least hit the highlights and ask God to bless every one of my campers.
It was a little weird the week I was in the kitchen because suddenly I didn't have any campers. Well, that's a lie, the entire camp were my campers, but I didn't have this group of six or seven or eight to care for intensely. I prayed for the conflicts I saw and for the counselors and staff and hoped it was enough. I started to notice a whole new group of people. I got to know the rest of the staff better because I had to. It's a little hard to pray with the depth I was used to for people whose hearts you hadn't even begun to know. So at the same time that I was very lost, I was found, just in a different place than I had ever been before.
I wish I could tell you all last week's campers' stories, but I wasn't there enough to get to know them all. The last time I was a counselor, I wrote letters for all of my campers and left them on their beds. I used to sneak away during the dance party on Thursday to get them written, or take an extra break during the day, because I didn't want them to all be generic. I had a wonderful group of individual girls every week and they all deserved a letter that told them specifically what beautiful traits they had. I only ever had one camper leave hers and I saw her again this week. If you've never been in a caring relationship strong enough to cause the other person's face to light up when they see you again, I strongly recommend it. Best feeling ever. And I love that she calls me by my first name only so see can rhyme it with hers.
We were all sitting outside in the gazebo, all of the girl counselors and me and Kayla and then most of the girl campers. Sunday afternoons are my fav. I really love the time before the campers come when you're making up the beds and I used to love sitting on the swing in the gazebo waiting on the first campers to come down from registration. Sunday afternoon is a clean slate, a blank canvas that beautiful pictures are always painted on. I love it. So here was Sunday afternoon and here were a ton of girls who I did not know. Maigan named off some of her campers and I said that I didn't know anybody and she said, "You know Kiki."
And I did. You know how your aunts and uncles and grandparents and other distant relations look at you in surprise and say how you've grown? They either do that because they don't know what else to say or because you've grown a lot and you do not look like the person you used to. You're taller, your face looks different, your voice is different, maybe you even smile differently. Kira was my first ever camper. I remember because I could not for the life of me say her name right and I kept repeating, "Like Cairo, except Ky-ra." Then she went by Kiki for the rest of the week and it was a little useless, but whatever, it was still worth the time. And she has grown up, oh goodness has she grown. She came up from this quiet, possibly scared little kid into this wonderfully confident teenager. She also talks a lot more now and has a little bit more sass than I'd like, but she's pulled a butterfly and I can't imagine what I did to be privileged enough to see it.
I got to know new campers, even some of the boys, which wasn't hardly possible before. I heard a lot of who liked who and I can believe Kira when she talks about the drama that happened all week. Life lesson- never have a crush on a counselor when you're a camper and never tell other campers that you have a crush because that's just asking for a long week of taunting. I'm generally in the habit of stopping it, but I was really amazed this week when I told a camper to behave and -gasp!- they didn't listen. Because I'm not in their world this week. If they know me, they yell when I come and they're sad when I go, but to most of the kids, I was just another person who showed up randomly and talked probably too much. There's no reason to listen to this girl, even though she's sitting on the lifeguard stand or even if she's the same age as the counselors. She's not here with us all the time and she probably doesn't care.
I hate that I'm not in their world. I hate that I'm out here and they're in there, thinking less of me. I hate that I can't help, that I can't listen, that I can't be there, that I can't take action, that I have no idea what to pray about. I don't know what they need, I don't know what they want, I don't know if they're loved, I don't know if someone cares about them, I don't know who's disappointed them and I don't know what they dream about. I hate that I spent Friday morning reading articles on caring instead of going to camp. I hate that I still have Cookie's letter, hidden back behind a note from one of my other campers that she framed for me. I hate that I still have that pair of earrings that I was going to give to that kid who lost one, because he reminded me of someone else who got their ear pierced and decided to wear ridiculously large fake diamond studs. I hate that I didn't get to help and I hate that on a Sunday night, I'm sitting here with homework to do, smelling like an ice cream store and not at a campfire, smelling like marshmallows and lighter fluid, because my best afternoon scooping ice cream still sucks compared to the worst night being at camp.
I think I'm going to pray again tonight.
It was a little weird the week I was in the kitchen because suddenly I didn't have any campers. Well, that's a lie, the entire camp were my campers, but I didn't have this group of six or seven or eight to care for intensely. I prayed for the conflicts I saw and for the counselors and staff and hoped it was enough. I started to notice a whole new group of people. I got to know the rest of the staff better because I had to. It's a little hard to pray with the depth I was used to for people whose hearts you hadn't even begun to know. So at the same time that I was very lost, I was found, just in a different place than I had ever been before.
I wish I could tell you all last week's campers' stories, but I wasn't there enough to get to know them all. The last time I was a counselor, I wrote letters for all of my campers and left them on their beds. I used to sneak away during the dance party on Thursday to get them written, or take an extra break during the day, because I didn't want them to all be generic. I had a wonderful group of individual girls every week and they all deserved a letter that told them specifically what beautiful traits they had. I only ever had one camper leave hers and I saw her again this week. If you've never been in a caring relationship strong enough to cause the other person's face to light up when they see you again, I strongly recommend it. Best feeling ever. And I love that she calls me by my first name only so see can rhyme it with hers.
We were all sitting outside in the gazebo, all of the girl counselors and me and Kayla and then most of the girl campers. Sunday afternoons are my fav. I really love the time before the campers come when you're making up the beds and I used to love sitting on the swing in the gazebo waiting on the first campers to come down from registration. Sunday afternoon is a clean slate, a blank canvas that beautiful pictures are always painted on. I love it. So here was Sunday afternoon and here were a ton of girls who I did not know. Maigan named off some of her campers and I said that I didn't know anybody and she said, "You know Kiki."
And I did. You know how your aunts and uncles and grandparents and other distant relations look at you in surprise and say how you've grown? They either do that because they don't know what else to say or because you've grown a lot and you do not look like the person you used to. You're taller, your face looks different, your voice is different, maybe you even smile differently. Kira was my first ever camper. I remember because I could not for the life of me say her name right and I kept repeating, "Like Cairo, except Ky-ra." Then she went by Kiki for the rest of the week and it was a little useless, but whatever, it was still worth the time. And she has grown up, oh goodness has she grown. She came up from this quiet, possibly scared little kid into this wonderfully confident teenager. She also talks a lot more now and has a little bit more sass than I'd like, but she's pulled a butterfly and I can't imagine what I did to be privileged enough to see it.
I got to know new campers, even some of the boys, which wasn't hardly possible before. I heard a lot of who liked who and I can believe Kira when she talks about the drama that happened all week. Life lesson- never have a crush on a counselor when you're a camper and never tell other campers that you have a crush because that's just asking for a long week of taunting. I'm generally in the habit of stopping it, but I was really amazed this week when I told a camper to behave and -gasp!- they didn't listen. Because I'm not in their world this week. If they know me, they yell when I come and they're sad when I go, but to most of the kids, I was just another person who showed up randomly and talked probably too much. There's no reason to listen to this girl, even though she's sitting on the lifeguard stand or even if she's the same age as the counselors. She's not here with us all the time and she probably doesn't care.
I hate that I'm not in their world. I hate that I'm out here and they're in there, thinking less of me. I hate that I can't help, that I can't listen, that I can't be there, that I can't take action, that I have no idea what to pray about. I don't know what they need, I don't know what they want, I don't know if they're loved, I don't know if someone cares about them, I don't know who's disappointed them and I don't know what they dream about. I hate that I spent Friday morning reading articles on caring instead of going to camp. I hate that I still have Cookie's letter, hidden back behind a note from one of my other campers that she framed for me. I hate that I still have that pair of earrings that I was going to give to that kid who lost one, because he reminded me of someone else who got their ear pierced and decided to wear ridiculously large fake diamond studs. I hate that I didn't get to help and I hate that on a Sunday night, I'm sitting here with homework to do, smelling like an ice cream store and not at a campfire, smelling like marshmallows and lighter fluid, because my best afternoon scooping ice cream still sucks compared to the worst night being at camp.
I think I'm going to pray again tonight.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Quotes
I'm practicing for my day of silent meditation on Saturday which I am surprisingly pumped for. I know you're probably waiting for words that are from me and not from anybody else, but as I just realized, every other word of mine currently is the word awesome, so I clearly need a break to stop the chaos. But. Quotations abound in my life and a friend of a friend of mine (Ah Facebook!) had several wonderful quotes that I figured I'd share. And, since I'm revamping my quote section of that book of faces (hahah did anyone see that episode of The Office where Jim wrote book on his face and Darryl didn't get it so he said, "Yes, I am popular social networking site, known as BookFace"? ... And that's why I suck at telling jokes) I'm going to put mine on here as well, with the open invitation for anyone to share other awesome ones. The end. Well, except not really. But you know what I mean. And cut.
________________________________________________
“I love UNC. I love the quad in the spring and the arboretum in the fall. I love the Pit on a sunny day and Graham Memorial Lounge on a rainy one. I love Roy [Williams] all the time. But what makes UNC truly special is not our beautiful campus, our distinguished reputation or even our basketball team. It’s us—the student body—who make UNC what it is.”
- Eve Carson
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
-Marianne Williamson
I believe in Christianity as i believe that the sun has risen, not because i see, but by it I see everything else. - C.S. Lewis
Don't be wishing you were somplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God's place for you, live and love and obey and believe right there. - 1 Corinthians 7:17
“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself, and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be true.
-scarlet letter
“There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.” -Einstein
“The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes up short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly …”
Theodore Roosevelt
________________________________________________
Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
Romans 11:33
And this life sentence that I'm serving,
I admit that I'm every bit deserving
But the beauty of Grace
Is that it makes life not fair.
-Relient K
Everybody has a secret world inside of them. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside. They've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe.
-Neil Gaiman
In essentials we have unity, in nonessentials liberty and in all things we have charity (love).
-John Wesley
Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit around it and pluck blackberries.
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning
George: I don’t think I’m supposed to be doing this.
Rube: Well, if somebody else were supposed to be doing this, I’d be sitting here talking to somebody else.
George: But I don’t know anything. About anything!
Rube: You think I know anything? When I’m supposed to know something, I’ll know it. When you’re supposed to know something, you’ll know it. Be patient, you’re learning. Just smell some roses already.
-Dead Like Me
Maybe it's easier to like someone else's life, and live vicariously through it, than take some responsibility to change our lives into lives we might like.-Tish Grier
A phrase of great power, and wisdom, and consolation to the soul in times of need. Allons-y! -the Tenth Doctor
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
-Moulin Rouge!
When life gives you lemons, make grape juice and let the world wonder how you did it.
When life kicks you, let it kick you forward.
-Kay Yow (1942-2009)
Me: I think my Prince Charming fell off a cliff, so I'm not expecting much.
Nick: Eh... you've still got one... he's just slightly
deformed
Come on, we're gonna take on the world today!
-Sarah Henson
_____________________________________
________________________________________________
“I love UNC. I love the quad in the spring and the arboretum in the fall. I love the Pit on a sunny day and Graham Memorial Lounge on a rainy one. I love Roy [Williams] all the time. But what makes UNC truly special is not our beautiful campus, our distinguished reputation or even our basketball team. It’s us—the student body—who make UNC what it is.”
- Eve Carson
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
-Marianne Williamson
I believe in Christianity as i believe that the sun has risen, not because i see, but by it I see everything else. - C.S. Lewis
Don't be wishing you were somplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God's place for you, live and love and obey and believe right there. - 1 Corinthians 7:17
“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself, and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be true.
-scarlet letter
“There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.” -Einstein
“The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes up short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly …”
Theodore Roosevelt
________________________________________________
Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
Romans 11:33
And this life sentence that I'm serving,
I admit that I'm every bit deserving
But the beauty of Grace
Is that it makes life not fair.
-Relient K
Everybody has a secret world inside of them. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside. They've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe.
-Neil Gaiman
In essentials we have unity, in nonessentials liberty and in all things we have charity (love).
-John Wesley
Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit around it and pluck blackberries.
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning
George: I don’t think I’m supposed to be doing this.
Rube: Well, if somebody else were supposed to be doing this, I’d be sitting here talking to somebody else.
George: But I don’t know anything. About anything!
Rube: You think I know anything? When I’m supposed to know something, I’ll know it. When you’re supposed to know something, you’ll know it. Be patient, you’re learning. Just smell some roses already.
-Dead Like Me
Maybe it's easier to like someone else's life, and live vicariously through it, than take some responsibility to change our lives into lives we might like.-Tish Grier
A phrase of great power, and wisdom, and consolation to the soul in times of need. Allons-y! -the Tenth Doctor
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
-Moulin Rouge!
When life gives you lemons, make grape juice and let the world wonder how you did it.
When life kicks you, let it kick you forward.
-Kay Yow (1942-2009)
Me: I think my Prince Charming fell off a cliff, so I'm not expecting much.
Nick: Eh... you've still got one... he's just slightly
deformed
Come on, we're gonna take on the world today!
-Sarah Henson
_____________________________________
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