Once Upon a Time There was a Blogger

...who didn't blog for a very long time...

Mostly because life on the cliffs, while beautiful, is a sight less exciting to read about than life in South America....

At least, that's what it looks like when I type it out and read it back to myself.

But I'll try harder.

Promise.

The Big News

I forgot to share the excitement from housing draws:

As of August 16th: myself, an epileptic betta fish, two nurses, a frog named Biscuit, a dietetics major, a semi-living African violet, enough second-hand storage tins to fill a Volkswagen, and a girl who lives on toast and jelly beans will all be sharing a first-floor Flex apartment with a parking-lot view.

Come over for brunch?

A Frog Named Biscuit

Having a reputation, good or bad, has consequences.

In this case, my having a reputation as

"The most responsible pet owner [Beth] knows"

has resulted in a new study buddy.

Meet Biscuit the frog.

He's growing on me already.

Dear Bethany,

Many, many years ago,

on a warm and sunny beach

in a faraway land,

You and I bonded...

Because of some cheery yellow friends,

Which you now wear daily on your arm.

In honor of our two-year friendiversary,

this September,

you're invited....

to God's Wild.

Otherwise known as:

My parents' farm....

Otherwise known as:

Where I grew up.

How?

You + Me + Jet

Three day weekend.

We'll skip a class or two if needed.

Why?

Because my parents are planting a garden,

one acre square...

and it will need to be harvested.

This year is special though.

In honor of the Jubilee,

we're only planting one crop:

Sunflowers.

This garden always has a row of sunflowers bordering it.

They provide a landmark for weary travelers,

and a smile for old friends.

But this year,

They'll be the whole garden.

So come visit.

Sip tea on my back porch.

Frolic with the kittens.

Wander in the woods.

Then help us harvest some sunshine.

And feel free to fill your pockets with some seeds for your own yard.

Sound good?

Turning Northward

I'm sittin' in the railway station, got a ticket for my destination
On a tour of one-night-stands, my suitcase and guitar at hand
And every stop is neatly planned for a poet and a one-man band

Homeward bound, I wish I was homeward bound
Home, where my thoughts escape, at home, where my music's playin'
Home, where my love lies waitin' silently for me.

Homeward bound.

-Paul Simon

Mathematics

Grown up lesson for the day:

Life is not a math equation.

Background:

I am math-brained. This doesn't mean that I like math. I dislike it. Strongly. I would even venture to use the word "hate." Maybe. I got into DU in part because my high school math teacher of two years wrote a recommendation letter explaining that I persevered in her class DESPITE my dislike of math.

My host dad thought it was because I was bad at it. False. I'm good at math, at least, above average. He would lecture me to study more whenever I told him that I didn't like the class, and I gave up trying to explain to him that I had the highest grade in the class. It's not that I don't understand it.

The problem is that I find numbers boring.

I know this is going to have some of you "math people" up in arms. I know that they don't have to be boring. Some people can do amazing things with math. I respect that. More power to you. I'm just not one of those people. Numbers don't do much for me. I love shapes and angles and geometry, but after a certain point, I don't find much space for creativity.

That being said, I am still math-brained. Counting calms me down. I like balance and order and organized systems. I get equations. They make sense to me. I think of languages as formulas, and I create cost/benefit comparisons for most big decisions I face.

But I realize that you can't always apply math to life, especially to people, no matter how hard you try to make it work.

Sure, sometimes you can. An example would be:

[(Hours spent reading) + (amount of homework turned in) - (class absences)] x (effort) = Class Grade

But sometimes you can't. Here's what it would look like in my head:

[[(frequency of shared meals) + (accidental eye contact in chapel)] x (amount of invites) - (number of minutes between texts) ] / number of women = value on a scale from 1 to 100 of how much he likes me

...because that's how the world works. Not.

Or how about this one:

[(scripture chapters read daily) x (intensity of prayers) + (number of chapel scans) x (good deeds)] - (negative thoughts / laziness) = how much God likes me and likelihood that we'll get into Flex next year

Right. Because there's nothing Biblical on THAT idea.

Moral of the story? Equations are great for helping manage a bank account or remember grammar rules in Spanish. Equations are not so great for applying to personal relationships.

People just don't fit within logical laws, that's what makes them so interesting.

What Life Looks Like [revisited]

I've been posing this question over and over in different words since I moved here.

So, three months in, here is the current answer:

Life looks like:

Schoolwork. Lots of it. And the words "Intro to..." in front of every class title.

7am caf-breakfast "dates" to finish last-minute reading assignments.

Seeing my roommate in the library more often than in our room.

A desk that is still my haven, though I now share it with an epileptic betta-fish named Mussorgsky.

This:

"Wild" Friday nights spent on the cliffs with good friends sharing time, tea, and testimony.

Late-night guitar jams.

Impromptu cookie-baking gatherings in friends' apartments.

Bike rides. Lots of them.

Weekends in Tijuana.

Preparing for a ministry leadership role next semester.

Looking forward to "passing the peace" on Sundays.

Making "home" here.

A Steamy Evening...

...is best created by breaking the washing machine and running the dryer for too long with too-wet clothes. They literally steam when you pull them out in defeat after two hours of trying to make them dry.

This, however, is NOT the best way to make friends with your hall mates.

The only good thing about Tuesday

is the chocolate-chip cookies in the caf at lunch.

Otherwise, it's just a terrible 24-hour period.

The Silly Thing I Did Today

Some time ago a good friend taught me the beauty of jicima sprinkled with chili powder.

Yum.

Today, the caf had jicima....but no chili powder.

So....

Being the genius that I am, I opted to bathe the whole plate in Tabasco.

Note: Tabasco ≠ Chili powder.

[It would also be helpful to point out that I am mildly allergic to chili oil. A little doesn't hurt, but it does get REALLY spicy REALLY fast.]

So with my mouth in flames, my throat constricting, and my eyes watering, I did the only logical thing: I started chugging milk.

It wasn't until the third glass that I remembered the unfortunate truth:

I'm lactose intolerant.

and once again, I display my genius. I'm afraid tonight is going to be one giant stomachache.

New Addition

The newest addition to NW707.

He needs a name.

Laundry, According to Matt:

1. Laundry is not hard.

2. You KNOW if it's gonna bleed.

3. If it's a newly tie-dyed t-shirt, it's gonna bleed.

4. If it's pink, it's gonna bleed.

Real.

Sometimes saying things out loud makes them real.

Sometimes you really wish that wouldn't happen. Because when it's just an idea bouncing around in your head, it's just words. They sound funny strung together, and you know they should hurt,

but they don't.

Until you say it out loud.

Things like, "this relationship isn't working," or,

"I won't be back next semester," or,

"S.A.L.T. is cancelled."

I think I've told the story already here, but quick recap just in case:

S.A.L.T. stands for "Serving and Living Together"

It's a program run through Loma that brings together teens from the U.S. and Mexico for a week of ...you guessed it... serving and living together. I participated as a non-loma student the summer after I graduated high school, and I can honestly say that the lessons I learned, the connections I made, and the relationships that were started are the reasons that I am at Point Loma today.

This summer I was looking forward to going back as a college leader and [hopefully] sharing a little bit of that with a new group of teens.

Unfortunately, though, we were told tonight that due to a lot of factors outside of our control, this year's trip is cancelled.

Which I was okay with, at first. I have a lot of other opportunities to work in ministry with Mexico [a passion which, it should be noted, was ignited on SALT '09]. A one-week trip being called off is not the end of my life, or even my summer.

But then I said it out loud.

And the significance behind it started to sink in. It wasn't just a string of words bouncing around between my ears anymore. Sure, for me it's just one week. But it means so much more. For my senior friends, it was supposed to be their final hurrah, something they've been looking forward to and working toward for months now. That's hard to swallow.

Even deeper than that is the bigger picture. One of the reasons the trip was cancelled was the lack of teen participation. A big factor in that is Mexico's presence in the media [In case you haven't flipped on a tv or read the paper lately, it's not a very positive representation].

The tricky thing is that it's cyclical. Parents don't want to send their kids to a foreign country that is put forth in the media as dangerous. Okay, understandable. The best way to change those preconceptions and foster a better understanding of the reality of the situation is to create a safe space for people to experience it for themselves, with the hope that they will go back and share their story with others. In this way, the walls begin to break down. Unfortunately, when fear and misunderstanding prevent this from happening, not only do those walls stay up, but they get built higher. The very thing that could be a voice of hope and the first step toward change, becomes the victim of the situation.

S.A.L.T. has been that safe space to begin asking those hard questions and breaking down those barriers for me, and for a lot of other people. It's hard to think that now we may not be able to pass that on.

Dear Iron & Wine

Why am I just discovering you?

I mean, I knew some of your songs before.

I even knew that I liked them.

But why has it taken me this long to realize the magnitude of your wonderfulness?

Baker's Dozen

I'm proud to introduce number 13:

Actually, her name is Piper Elizabeth.

But she's my thirteenth niece/nephew.

Hence the nickname.

Sometimes I forget to post things from a really long time ago...

Like this picture:

Look closely, there's a baby hippo there.

Words of the day...

Today they are "Humanity," and "Belonging."

Inspired by a wonderful week in Mexico, a great dinner conversation with some good friends, and the feeling of coming back to Loma and finally being comfortable enough here to call it "home."

In Two Decades

I am twenty years and one week old.

Let's play "Fun Facts with Charlie," shall we?

1. In the past twenty years I have had _____ bedrooms:

a. 7

b. 1

c. 11

d. 6

2. In the past twenty years I have lived in ____ houses (we'll count each dorm too):

a. 9

b. 12

c. 4

d. 1

3. In the past twenty years I have lived in ____ cities:

a. 1

b. 3

c. 17

d. 7

4. In the past twenty years I have lived on ____ continents:

a. 2

b. 8

c. 7

d. 3

5. In the past twenty years I have been a student on _____ campuses:

a. 4

b. 8

c. 3

d. 13

6. In the past twenty years I have visited _____ states:

a. 1

b. 6

c. 8

d. 49

7. In the past twenty years I have visited _____ countries (for more than a day):

a. 1

b. 7

c. 29

d. 5

8. In the past twenty years I have owned _____ dogs (for the majority of their lifespan):

a. 6

b. 2

c. 0

d. 11

9. In the past twenty years I have had ____ boyfriends:

a. 0

b. 6

c. 2

d. 18

10. True/False : I feel like a capable and mature grown-up.

Answers:

1. (c) - 11 - [one in each house/dorm, plus one at each CO sisters' house]

2. (a) - 9 - [Sugar Ln., '43 Westminster Ct., '47 Westminster Ct., The Cabin, The Barn, God's Wild, Meadowlands, Villa 12, Nease West]

3. (d) - 7 - [Sacramento, Kyburz, Plymouth, Fiddletown, San Rafael, Guayaquil, San Diego]

4. (a) - 2 - [North America, South America]

5. (b) - 8 - [Inverness Pre., Mission El., Plymouth El., Ione Jr., Amador Hi., DUC, UEES, PLNU]

6. (c) - 8 - [CA., OR., DC., VA., NH., MN., CO., NM.]

7. (d) - 5 - [ USA, Panama, Mexico, Ecuador, Peru]

8. (a) - 6 - [Bella, Inky, Boots, Odauie, Bruce, Sirius]

9. (b) - 6 - [Nathan, Jon, Chris, Nik, Brian, Joey]

10. False, are you kidding me?

Picture of the day 2/16/11

They say everybody has a doppleganger or look-alike.

For most people it's celebrities.

I got lucky.

For me it's one of my best friends.

Dear Hannah Lack,

My friend, my sister, my twinsie, my other half:

Get yo'self HOME already so we can skype.

Ya hear?

The Blanket Fort

2/15/11 - I have a unicorn, a hippo, and a "party in a box" living under my bed.

Mail! Mail! Mail!

2/14/11 - Thank you Brittany & Mom. Brownie mix, tea, pj's, and...a unicorn?

Story Time

Yesterday's picture of the day [from the San Diego Zoo website]:

2/11/11 - Adhama the month-old hippo. I'm in love. How can you NOT love that?

People are usually surprised to learn that hippos are my favorite animal. I, for one, don't really understand their confusion. I mean, it's not like they're huge, funny looking, terrifying, uncontrollable creatures that account for more human deaths

than any other animal in Africa.

...oh, wait.....

Some people thinks it's funny and ironic on my part, like I picked them for their scary B.A.-ness.

Sorry to disappoint.

The story of my strange attachment to hippos dates back almost seventeen years. For as long as I can remember, the hippo exhibit at the zoo has been my favorite. I couldn't leave without first spending at least ten minutes gawking in front of their pool, regardless of whether or not they were even above the water. I never really thought much about where my obsession started, until the summer before my freshman year of high school. I had gone to Washington D.C. with a group from school, and I brought back a stuffed hippo from the Smithsonian. When I showed it to my mom, she started tearing up. While this is pretty normal for my mom, I still wasn't expecting a tearful reaction to a plush African mammal. Upon asking, she just sniffed and said, "Your grandfather would be so proud."

What? Was he some sort of safari explorer and no one ever told me?

And then the puzzle pieces fell into place.

When I was about three, my paternal grandfather was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He knew what was in store for him: hospital beds, in-home care, lots of scary machines, and a progressively weaker and more and more unfamiliar appearance. He decided that he didn't want me, his youngest granddaughter, to remember him that way, so while he was still able, he took me to the zoo for a day of grandpa spoiling. The last memory I have of him is him handing me apples to throw to the hippos, and my three-year-old delight at watching them disappear into their big, gaping mouths.

Kind of like this:

[More pictures!]: http://www.sandiegozoo.org/whatsnew/index.html

Excuses

I'm sorry. I fail.

I missed two days of pictures.

It took me less than a week to drop the ball.

Again, I'm sorry.

From the bottom of my heart.

It's been a long week.

I know almost every electrical outlet in the library by name.

Since Monday I've written (and turned in) twelve pages of mindless blather.

I've taken three tests.

I don't even want to think about how much I've read.

...more than fifty pages (I thought about it).

Michaela and I realized today that I haven't been awake in our room for more than 20 minutes in a row since Sunday night.

Could I beg pathetically for a little more pity?

Good grief, let's hope not.

In conclusion, here is the long awaited photo-of-the-day:

2/11/11 - This is going to be the greatest evening of nothing that I've had in awhile.

A Long-Overdue Introduction

Dear World,

Meet David.

David is the brother-my-age that I never had.

What does that mean?

That means that he makes me crazy a lot, and I hardly ever agree with him, but it also means that I can count on him to know exactly what to say when I need a good laugh, and when I need it.

It's usually something along the lines of...

"Hey Charlie, what do an orange and a horse have in common?"

"I don't know David, what DO an orange and a horse have in common?"

"They're both orange...except for the horse..."

Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Also, David has a great girlfriend. She's awesome, really. I mean, all I really know about her I learned from creeping on her on facebook, but he's crazy about her, and she has Harry Potter jokes on her profile. As far as I'm concerned, that's all she needs for a stamp of approval. Someday I'll meet her in person, fingers crossed.

David sent me the entire series of Studio 60 for my birthday. All six disks of it.

I love brothers.

And birthdays.

And homework-free Thursday nights.

Studying Stream of Consciousness from the Stacks

[This is dedicated to Cassie, because she loves my train-wrecks of thought...]

"This is best Cliff bar I've ever eaten...

...that's a lie. But it's good, really good...

I love the stacks....

....the stacks are not a place for socializing....

....if you want to have a private conversation, you probably shouldn't have it in the library...

WHY is it so bloody WARM in here?

...also, why is Annie Brooks so catchy?

I have so much work to do....

....I'm not getting any of it done right now...

....sometimes I just want to drop out and live in a cheap room where I can keep my dog and work at starbucks until Jesus comes back....

...most of the time though, that seems like a really boring, lonely idea...

....but sometimes . . .

Picture of the Day #5

2/7/11 - Epic Color-Coded To-Do list for the week.

[it's since grown, but look at all that got crossed off today!]

Picture of the Day #4

2/6/11 - Taken in December. My Kindergarten class at Ninos con Futuro in Ecuador.

Blog Barf

Definition: noun. verb. The phenomena that occurs when one has sworn of all other forms of online social networking, but still feels the inexplicable (and highly unnecessary) need to blather ceaselessly into cyberspace. The result is an overload of senseless blog updates, posted in rapid succession on a Saturday night, when normal people are out relating to each other in real life.

Synonyms: Feed takeover, word vomit, facebook withdrawal, boredom.

Antonym: Real life, Post-desert, Melissa Tucker.

Example: "Sorry for the blog barf, friends. Maybe if Brittany would email me back, I would be sufficiently distracted to stop myself from hitting the 'publish post' button again."

Quote of the Week

I like when my friends say funny things, it makes me feel better about saying funny things myself. It also cheers me up later when I remember whatever was said. Hence the list in my journal of friend-quotes. Also, hence this post, because sometimes you just need to share the joy.

This is Jordan:

Jordan looks way more hardcore in this picture than he is in real life.

Maybe it's the juxtaposition of Hipster boy and fluffy kitten.

( Just a hypothesis. )

Jordan has a collection of kitten sweaters. They're magnificent.

Jordan informed me at breakfast earlier this week that:

"You have to be careful about when you wear a kitten sweater. You have to think about it. They can be distracting. . . I mean, if you wear a kitten sweater to class all day, you're not going to be thinking about the right things."

Words of wisdom.

Re-Connections

Today I was reacquainted with two very old and dear friends, who I haven't seen in a very long time. Too long. Their names are Mexico and Theatre.

There's a feeling you get in certain situations; sometimes it's an event, sometimes it's a place, sometimes it's a group of people. You breathe deeper, you hear more clearly, you take in more of the world around you, your heart makes its presence known with a sort of buzzing warmth that can't be ignored. It's the feeling of home. Today's trip to Tijuana was that. It was my first Latin American / Non-U.S. experience since Ecuador, and my first time to "TJ" since spring break last year. I love Mexico. My adventures around South America were incredible, and I was comfortable, and I would go back in a heartbeat (or maybe two...enough time to put my shoes on...), but it didn't feel the same. Mexico has a smell. And a feel. I wish I could explain it better, but some things you just know.

But I digress...

One more note on Mexico, actually. People keep asking me if there's a part of Ecuadorian culture that I miss. I have a confession:

I miss the language.

I miss it more than anything else.

Weirdo.

After crossing back over the border (where vendors were selling "Steelers" and "Packers" blankets in preparation for tomorrow. Feel free to pause and philosophize about cultural crossover here. ) I went to the closing performance of Doubt on campus. I can't remember the last time I went to a play. It hasn't been that long, but the fact that I can't remember still says something. Regardless, it's now official. I am a goner for the magic of the theatre. Don't anybody tell Mr. Turner. It wasn't until a few scenes in, after catching myself getting excited about the lighting technique, that I realized how bad of a goner I am. We're talking hook, line, and sinker. The blocking, the set, the dialog, the costumes. All of it, I drank it in like a fish.

Again, weirdo.

I won't get in to the finer-details of the plot, so as not to ruin it for anyone else, but there was one part of the storyline that particularly got me. Google informs me that it's actually an old parable, but I like it anyway. It goes something like this:

One day a woman was gossiping with a friend. Feeling guilty, she went to her priest to confess. He heard her confession, and then as a penitence he told her to go home, take a pillow, go up to the roof, cut the pillow open, and return. So the woman did as she was told. The priest then instructed her to go back home and gather every feather that had scattered from the pillow. "But father," she protested, " that would be impossible. They've flown to the four winds!" "Ah," said he, "So it is with gossip."

Hmmmmm...

Visual Organization (Picture of the Day)

2/5/11 - To-Do Lists: "Fun" "Work" "Life Goals" and "Mexico"

Photo a Day #2

2/4/11 - Nease 5 South Scavenger Hunt. Team Hipster.

Withdrawls

Things I wanted to post on facebook today:

" Cassie Purdy rocked the Cassaba last night. Or at least musoffee."

" Team Hipster: for the win."

" Dear Stacks, I love you."

"Grilled cheese sandwiches make everything better. And new House episodes."

...Withdrawls, much?

First Things First

Last spring I posted a "photo-a-day" on my facebook profile. It was a lot of fun, even though some of my efforts left much to be desired. It got me out taking pictures again, which is something I used to be passionate about, but got sort of burned out on (it's a long, rambling, nod-and-smile sort of story. Maybe some other time.) and stopped doing for awhile. Long story short, life got busy and I stopped.

I re-started a couple of days ago, and then realized that I need a facebook break. Bad. Badly? See what I mean? My language skills are failing. But I had a few friends who were really excited about the photo-a-day return, so I promised to post them here.

And so, as promised:

February 3rd - A tree called Magic.

Dear Facebook,

Admitting you have a problem is the first step....

...right?

I'm taking a break from Facebook. Stalking other people is a great procrastination tool for avoiding writing papers, but most professors won't accept it as a valid excuse.

Oops.

Plus, there are tons of other cooler, more productive things I could be doing instead.

These include, but are not limited too:

1. My homework.

2. Finishing Les Miserables.

3. Learning more than 4 chords on the guitar.

4. Expanding my ASL vocabulary.

5. Talking to real human beings.

6. Working on my coloring book collection.

7. Taking pictures.

8. Solving world hunger.

I'm going to go a week and see how I feel.

3...2...1...

The Best Part About Common Bathrooms?

...no one expects you to sing in the shower.

Words of Wisdom

"If you can walk,

you can dance.

If you can talk,

you can sing."

- Zimbabwean Proverb

"Si puedes caminar,

puedes bailar.

Si puedes hablar,

puedes cantar."

- Proverbio de Zimbabwe

Half a Room

I am difficult to live with.

Don't fight me on this one.

I'm accepting and admitting my faults.

Just run with it.

My track record ran downhill at a young age, when I woke my sisters up at 4 am. Sometimes I needed my audiobook restarted, sometimes I had scary dreams, and sometimes I was just bored and wanted company. (Word to the wise - when you're 20 years old, the last thing you want to do is keep a 3 year old company in the predawn hours.)

It's only gotten worse from there. My rap sheet of roommate atrocities is as long as my arm. From bringing home feeder crickets to letting my life go to shambles on finals week with Britt last year, locking Jenna out at 3am (while she was deathly ill, I might add!) our first night in Ecuador, or, my most recent crimes, getting up at 6 am (even on weekends) and blinding Michaela with my desk light, all while muttering - loudly - to myself in spanish, it becomes easy to see what I'm getting at.

In summary, ladies, I am sorry. You're all wonderful human beings, and shouldn't have (had) to contend with a blanket-fort-dwelling, early-rising, open-window-loving, folk-music-streaming, key-losing, roommate.

But I appreciate it.

What Life Looks Like

I like getting to know places.

It makes them feel less like temporary destinations and more like home.

I remember saying that I didn't know what life would look like once I got here.

Well, past self, here goes...

Life in this moment:

Looks like - an ocean view, plaid flannel shirts, short hair, and a spanish essay that is never going to get finished.

Smells like - sea water, real coffee, sickeningly sweet hand soap, and inner-city exhaust on the drive home from church.

Sounds like - communal worship, guitar jams until midnight in friends' rooms, dance parties, and good questions.

Tastes like - Good Earth tea shared with good company, homemade pizza, cereal for dinner in the cafeteria, and chocolate bread picnics in the grass.

Feels like - sunny afternoons pretending to do homework outside, wind in my face on the freeway, "Pass the Peace" hugs, and finally finding my "fit."

Where from Here?

In the three weeks since we spoke last...

I've said some hard goodbyes, and some long awaited hello-agains, and a whole lot of nice-to-meet-you's.

I've spent some time with family, some time with friends, and some time with myself.

I've left behind places that will forever hold precious memories, re-familiarized myself with the places that will always mean "home," and found new places that may someday become the backdrop to some wonderful stories.

I have settled on the Side of the Sea.

Whether it's the "far" or the "near" depends on the point of reference.

I'm far, once again, from the familiar.

But I'm close to many people and places that I've come to hold dear.

I'm learning the difference between Contentment and Complacency,

between Apathy and Intentionality,

and between Education and Learning.

I'm slowly settling in to my new space, and my new role in this community.

I'm reassured daily that this is where I am supposed to be. But I know that there is a reason behind it, that the adventure that brought me here is not over, but merely paused for the moment.

So my question,

to myself and to the source of power who directed my steps to bring me to this resting point,

My question is...

Where from here?