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.