Shea's MindSay Blog

Welcome

irishwings — 2004-02-29T03:02:00-05:00

As if I have any time for this. Well, I suppose I'm sucked into the new trend of having an online journal, what can I say? Of course, doesn't an online journal defeat the whole purpose of a journal: being able to write down your private thoughts and feelings? Nevertheless, I felt compelled to create one.

Then again, who's ever going to read this? Please. People have GOT to have better things to do than read rants by me.

Anyway, thanks for visiting though. I've been sad about not having a decent webpage, since I used to be really good with them. But this will suffice. It's not like I'm doing anything technological, but this is really all I've got time for.

Well, it is absolutely gorgeous outside today, so I'm going to slide open the window and get to work.

music: Goo Goo Dolls, "Sympathy"

Fantastic Weekend

irishwings — 2004-02-29T11:02:00-05:00

Well, before the weekend officially ends in about 15 minutes, I want to say that it was great. The Vagina Monologues went so well, and people I don't even know still came up to me to tell me what an awesome job I did and how much they enjoyed the show. I'm so impressed with everyone I got to perform with: every woman there is really a "Phenomenal Woman" and a "Vagina Goddess." Thanks to everyone who made it to the show; I believe we raised a few thousand dollars for the Dove Center and the Family Crisis Resource Center! Whoo-hoo!!

In addition to the great production, I've gotten the chance to relax a bit after last week, which was pretty rough: three exams, a paper, and a show to do. This week I have two exams, but at least I won't have rehersal every night.

Well, that's all I have to say for now. Hopefully I'll have something a little more enlightening to say tomorrow...if I can see through my pile of homework I didn't do this weekend. Oops.

Trapped in the Waste Land

irishwings — 2004-03-01T10:03:00-05:00

I'm reading "The Waste Land" by T. S. Eliot, responding to my professor's questions about it for a take-home quiz when I realize that, through doing this work, I myself am trapped in the Waste Land Eliot describes. Not really because of this quiz alone, but because of the constant reading assignments, exams, papers, quizzes, homework assignments: I feel like the "human engine" (l. 216), working and working and pushing out products that mean nothing to me. Now, I know that Eliot was probably referring to meaningless labor such as typing and working in an assembly line where no craft or thought can be put into what you do; you just do it. I know that I need to think to do my work, I need to craft my work, unlike the "human engine" in the poem.

Still, I feel that my work means nothing. Expect me to write an essay in a week, and all I can do is pick the first topic that comes to mind and write it as best I can, crafting the writing, not the idea. If I craft my ideas, I have no time to fix my style or grammar or to even develop an idea within a week. Give me two weeks and I'll be an artist, not an engine.

It's all the same. The same formula for every paper, and I'm tired of it. Let me write what I feel inside, give me time to figure out what I'm feeling. Let the artist come out.

But, instead, I read, analyze, write, and fix the grammar and style. Every time I have a decent idea, I don't have enough time to craft it into something I'm proud of. Of course, that's when I'm allowed to write what I want. We're in college; we shouldn't be handed exact topics to write on. Suggestions are nice, but allow me to think, allow me to create and craft: don't give me the assembly line task of "do this and only this, and do it well."

I want out of the Waste Land that school has become. I continually write in my paper-and-pen journal, "I can't wait until I stop drowning in work so that I can stop to think, but the weight just gets heavier every time I try." Sometimes, this or something similar constitutes an entire entry.

Let me breathe a little. What's the point of knowing information if it never makes you--or allows you to--think?

Rockin' for the Lord

irishwings — 2004-03-02T10:03:00-05:00

For those of you that think that Church music is just off-key old people singing to an organ, know that this is not always the case.

"Give thanks to the Lord with harps,
"sing to Him with stringed instruments.
"Sing a new song to Him,
"play the harp with skill, and shout for joy!" (Psalms 33:2-3)

So, it is for this reason that were are Jammin' for Jesus tomorrow! Yay! We may not have harps, but we DO have some cool stringed instruments (such as my Fender Showmaster Special Celtic Edition strat Mikey gave me) to rock out on. And we'll be shouting sometimes, but singing softly at times to, doing what the Spirit moves us to do.

So, if you have some great musical talent but don't think your church or youth group will go for it, just remember that passage :)

MARS

irishwings — 2004-03-02T10:03:00-05:00

WAHOOOOOOO! Check this out:

http://msnbc.msn.com/id/4202901/

I really wanted to cry when I read it. I can't wait to learn more in my extraterrestrials class!

At times, I feel that part of me was always meant to be an astrobiologist. I mean, tears come to my eyes whenever I see footage from space, hear about the latest discovery, or look up at the stars. The other night, maybe a week or so ago, a really bright star was next to them moon for a short while; I think it was Venus, but I'm not positive. (For loving space so much, I should know more about it.) But I didn't feel that anyone I stopped to show thought it was all that breathtaking.

I still look at NASA's website sometimes, wondering what I could possibly do working there with a degree in English and a secondary teaching certification. Maybe I could clean the toilets or make coffee. Doing anything that would help us to learn more about space, even in a completely indirect way, would be a dream to me.

Then again, teaching is still my main dream: to help those students who need it most. If I could choose between jobs, not taking into account availability to take care of future kids of my own, I'd still choose teaching.

But yay for Mars!

no subject

irishwings — 2004-03-02T11:03:00-05:00

Update: The Vagina Monologues raised about $3,800 to help women who need it!!!!!!! AWESOME! :D

Greece

irishwings — 2004-03-06T12:03:00-05:00

Wow.

Two weeks ago, I interviewed for a position on a mission trip to Greece during the Olympics this summer. At first, I was a little wary about applying because very little information was provided as to what I'd be doing, so I didn't finish the application. I let it sit by my desk at school, every time I glanced at it serving as a reminder of what an idiot I was for not following through.

Then, at Bible study, a man came and talked to us about mission trips. Of course, this made me feel worse and worse. Funny thing was, though, that our Baptist Student Ministries leader told us afterwards that the application deadline had been extended. I had about a week to complete the application.

I took it as a sign that the man talked to us about mission trips AND that the date was extended, so I sweated out the application. It was long and involved, but I knew that, even if I wasn't chosen for the trip, it was worth it to at least put the effort forward.

And, hey, whatddya know, I go for an interview! I was very nervous and rambled on most of my answers. I did not know how to feel about the interview. I was, however, prepared for the first question, but it's a really long story and I may use another entry to go into it.

Two weeks later, I recieve a phone call telling me I've got a position! Can you believe it? I was called to do this, and it took some pushing, but I finially listened, and who knows what amazing places I will go physically, emotionally, and spiritually as a result?

Sick of Apple Picking

irishwings — 2004-03-13T03:03:00-05:00

I read the following poem in Modern American Poetry, and it reminded me so much of how I feel about literature and essay writing right now:

http://www.wsu.edu:8080/~wldciv/world_civ_reader/world_civ_reader_2/frost_apple.html

First, Frost's speaker looks up at the ladder, "Toward heaven still," like the road ahead of me until I graduate, and then the years of teaching and writing after that.

Later, he describes a dream in which all he see are apples. When I've been working on a paper or reading a book too long, the writing is in my dream: either I'm tediously working on revising and re-vising a paper or I'm reading and reading a story throughout all of my dreams. I'm exaughsted when I awake.

These lines especially remind me of the state I'm in:
"For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired."
I'm tired of writing and reading and writing and reading, even though this is what I've always wanted to do with my life. And I know that once I get a break I will crave the work again as always, sitting in my summer job, wishing I had a class to keep my mind rolling. I even write essays for fun in the summer sometimes (sick, isn't it?)

Then, the speaker seems to be upset about his apples that are bruised and of no worth, like when I hate what I read and what I write, or I feel like I've learned NOTHING from the work I've done.

Finally, the speaker seems to desire something more than his "human sleep," perhaps more like hibernation. This is the difference between spring break and summer for me. Spring break is a nice break, but short so that I don't want to go back so soon. Summer, on the other hand, is so long that, two thirds into the summer, I am so ready to come back and have class and do homework--it's disgusting.

**Funny, though, that I am writing about how I am sick of writing, comparing it to something I've read while I'm sick of reading.**

I really do love it after all, don't I?

music: "You're Really Growing on Me," The Darkness

"Those Old-Fashioned Catholics" and "Those Crazy Baptists"

irishwings — 2004-03-17T05:03:00-05:00

I've always thought it was funny how even within one religion, Christianity, different denominations are almost stigmatized. I myself am a Catholic. My family has a joke we like to use: when people ask us weird things about Catholicism, we say, "oh, we stopped that when we stopped eating our first-born." Now, this may seem kind of insensitive, but people ask some weird stuff. And maybe these things happen in some Catholic Churches, but not ones I've ever been to. For example, I've been asked if I go to hell if I believe in evolution, which I've never been told in church. People also still think that mass is in Latin, that we worship saints, and that we hate all other Christians. Latin stopped awhile ago; we may pray to saints so that they, in turn, will pray to God, but I've never heard of actually worshipping them; and a good Christian, including Catholics, must "love one another." But perhaps I'm mistaken.

But it's not just Catholicism that gets ragged on. I belong to the Baptist Student Ministry on campus, and I love it, but when I tell people from church back home, I sometimes get made fun of. For example, "Oh, so do you dance and clap to praise the Lord?" which is said in a bad Southern accent. And I guess it's all in joking, but, really, not every single Baptist has a Southern accent, believe it or not. (I know this may be shocking.) And so what if some churches have more lively music than other Christian churches may be used to? I think it's great! At least I don't fall asleep. (Don't get me wrong, though, I like the traditional music too; I think it's pretty. I prefer a combination myself.)

Why can't we unite or at least be civil? We believe in one God, one Christ, one Holy Spirit--why do we have to label each other? I'm sure every denomination is stigmatized. Some people have even asked me how I can be in a Baptist group and be Catholic because "Baptists and Catholics butt heads" or "hate each other." Hate each other? That would make no sense! God doesn't want us to hate anyone! But perhaps I'm just naive or just like to break people's perceptions.

Maybe I'm totally wrong.

Anyone else ever feel like this or wonder how fellow Christians or even fellow human beings can stigmatize each other? Is it really that deep in our human nature? We're a sad species if it is.

Okay, Okay

irishwings — 2004-03-21T10:03:00-05:00

So, everyone's telling me to update my journal. I really wish I had something at least semi-interesting to say, but I really don't. But here it is anyway for those of you who asked for it.

So, I'm on spring break. It's funny how this year almost everyone I know is spending break at home doing nothing spectacular, like myself. I'm sitting at home right now, doing a little homework, catching up on sleep, getting myself back into shape now that I have time to work out. I guess everyone is so wiped out by this semester that a trip would be too much. I know I probably couldn't handle one. I just need sleep.

Isn't free time such a blessing? I mean, where does all our time go?

I recently came to the realization that I should spend less time doing homework. I really need to get out and have more fun--that's what I'll remember down the road, not that I had a 4.0 semester.

Plus, isn't it people that matter the most when it all comes down to it? I mean, having fun won't get you a diploma, but responsible fun and an okay GPA--that builds character and knowledge. Of course, sometimes I don't feel like I'm learning at all in class, but that's a whole other story.

Out to Lunch

irishwings — 2004-03-21T10:03:00-05:00

When I die, that's what I want my gravestone to say. "Out to Lunch." That way, people can see it and chuckle. Which reminds me of an essay I began once to re-conceive the idea of going to the cemetary on Good Friday (the Friday before Easter commemorating Jesus' crucifixion.) It's only a really rough draft (and from high school), but I've decided to post it nonetheless.

Most people see Good Friday as a day of mourning—it is the day Jesus died on the Cross, after all. Like many families, my family goes to the cemetery on Good Friday to visit lost loved ones, put flowers on their headstones by turning the vases inside out, and remember them. But when most families have their heads bent in prayer and tissues to their eyes, my family has more of a party-like attitude when we make our rounds from headstone to headstone.

We never really set a time to meet—when my parents, brothers, and I show up, we just cruise around in the car until we see the massive parade of laughing people—the rest of my dad’s family. We join up with them and there are hugs and kisses all around. Somehow it seems that every time, we meet up at Grandma and Grandpa’s graves, which are side by side. They are the parents of my dad’s family of ten children. I have 23 cousins on that side, ranging from mid-thirties to less than a year old. Their ten children and 23 grandchildren gather round.

Then we go to Johnny’s grave where Aunt Debbie lies down to size up her future grave site. She jokes that the man she's been living with for about 30-some years has to die before her so he can be creamated and she can be buried with him in her pocket.

Rather than crying over losses, we celebrate the lives of those who have died. The cemetery is called “Gate of Heaven”; dying brought them though that gate to God's glory, all because of Jesus dying on the Cross.

Grandma said to my dad, “When I die, don’t bring flowers to my grave: bring them to your wife, who is alive and can appreciate them.” Those are just shell-bodies in the graves, but their memories are alive in us.

Tommy

irishwings — 2004-03-24T10:03:00-05:00

After writing my last post, I decided to do a series of interesting stories dealing with some of my family members buried in Gate of Heaven cemetary. And, no, they won't be real depressing--there's something amazing that happens with so many of them!

The newest person to be buried in Gate of Heaven is my dad's cousin Tommy. Thomas Whalen was a bus driver for less than two years and was killed in an odd accident in December. Actually, one guy has it listed as a "Weird News Story" (http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/SactoMonkey8172/2003-12-11)

Here's a link to the actual news report:
http://www.wtopnews.com/index.php?sid=150470&nid=25

He was such a great man, always cheerful and full of love. Before the accident, he had flown out to California to go to a wedding, had lost a lot of weight, bought a whole new wardrobe, and was feeling great.

But this isn't why I've decided to talk about Tommy.

As I said before, Tommy had been a bus driver for LESS THAN TWO YEARS. However, people at his funeral included his gigantic family plus a bunch of teenagers he drove every day, and a ton of bus drivers.

In his funeral procession, there were roughly 40 cars and 40 school buses, led by the school bus he drove, draped in black. He only drove a school bus for the last two years, and yet they still loved him this much--I could feel God's love in that massive line of cars and buses.

It was a truely amazing experience. I will remember that forever.

At his gravesite, several bus drivers said wonderful things about Tommy. One woman who could speak little English talked about how Tommy had been so friendly and helped her to learn some English, and she said he was a "very special man."

There's nothing more amazing than to see how one person can touch so many people's lives so deeply, even when he's been on the job for only his second year.

God bless you, Tommy!

Johnny, Part I

irishwings — 2004-03-29T10:03:00-05:00

First of all, I apologize for the lack of entries. My classes are really starting to kick into gear right now.

I am splitting the story of my uncle Johnny into parts because it's a rather lengthy but incredible story. If nothing else has brought me to believe in God, this has.

My uncle Johnny was 21 when he underwent a physical when he drafted for the armed forces and found out he had melanoma. The tumor began to block his vena cava, and the doctors were positive that there was no way to save him. He went through several surgeries, each with little hope for Uncle Johnny.

So, as he was dying, he was wheeled into Saint Jude's Church. He was close to death and was unable to walk. But Saint Jude is the saint of hopeless cases, and they prayed for my uncle in that church during a novena service. When they put a relic of Saint Jude on him, he and everyone else could feel a healing presence. He got up and walked out after that service. He was cancer free for six years. This is one of the miracles that made this particular Saint Jude's Church a shrine.

Uncle Johnny had miraculously grown a new vein to bypass the tumor. Doctors could not explain the growth of the new vein.

From then on, Uncle Johnny said he was Saint Jude's "right-hand man."

--note--

irishwings — 2004-03-30T09:03:00-05:00

I spoke with my parents and cleared up the details of my Uncle Johnny's story, so Part I has been revised slightly.

Johnny, Part II

irishwings — 2004-03-30T09:03:00-05:00

During Uncle Johnny's six years of being cancer free, he became deeply religious, got his Italian dessert business underway, and got good life insurance. He was able to see his children grow more.

But, six years later, his cancer returned and, before anyone realized how sick he was, he was back in the hospital. He died on September 10, 1982.

My family wanted him buried in Gate of Heaven Cemetery, but there were no plot openings. For some reason, though, a plot was sold back to Gate of Heaven, which became available for Uncle Johnny.

This plot was on the right hand side of a Saint Jude statue.

Uncle Johnny still is and will always be Saint Jude's "right-hand-man."

Johnny, Part III, the Story Continues Today

irishwings — 2004-04-04T03:04:00-05:00

Since Uncle Johnny has died, two miracles have occurred in my family that we trace back to him.

First, my parents were not able to have children, and of course this devastated them. The last time my parents saw Uncle Johnny was on father's day, and my parents were especially sad about not being able to have children. But Uncle Johnny said, "Don't worry, just let God handle that." At the time, no one realized he was sick again, and he died that September. A year and a half later, I was born. My parents joke that it took Johnny a little while to figure out his way around in Heaven, but when he did, he put in a good word for my parents. My parents went on to have two more children.

Years later, in September of 1995, my mother was dying in the hospital of some unknown disease. Everything in her body started shutting down, and the doctors could not find anything causing it. On top of it, they gave her medicine she found out she is highly allergic to. I remember visiting her and thinking she looked like a skeleton.

It came to September 11 (oddly enough), the date between Uncle Johnny's death (Sept. 10) and my grandmother's death (Sept 12). She was afraid that she was going to be number three, that their death anniversaries would be all in a row. But Uncle Johnny's wife, my aunt Debbie, said that it was all the more reason my mother would turn the corner on that day. And she did.

So, even though I never knew my Uncle Johnny, he has affected my life possibly more than any other human being.

God bless you, Johnny!

Grandma and Aunt Nellie

irishwings — 2004-04-06T02:04:00-05:00

This is the last story I'll post, for awhile at least, about interesting stories associated with the deaths of my family members. (I'm ready to start expressing my opinions again.)

Grandma, my Dad's mother, no thanks to her doctor, was diagnosed with colon cancer far too late: the tumor was the size of a grapefruit. When she was in the hospital, she was coincidentally put next to my mother's former fiance, who was also suffering from cancer, and she helped give him hope because of her determined and caring spirit. She died when I was a baby on September 12, 1985. When she died, she had been in a coma, suddenly sat up and smiled, and then died. Some people say that things like this happen because a drug is released that makes you suddenly see light as you die, but I don't know many people that have actually sat up and smiled because of it.

Her story continues in two ways, intertwining with Uncle Johnny's influence. As I mentioned in a past entry, my parents could not have children, and they believe Johnny sent me. My first brother was born a year and a month after my Grandma died, so my parents joke that she sent him to show my parents what a real child was like, since Grandma had ten kids and my brother was quite a handful compared to me. Also, when my mother was dying, as I mentioned in the last entry, she turned the corner on September 11, between the anniverseries of Uncle Johnny's and Grandma's deaths.

Aunt Nellie, Grandma's sister, died of natural causes. They were very similar people, and the same thing happened when Aunt Nellie died: she suddenly sat up, smiled, and died.

God bless you, Grandma and Aunt Nellie!

Hahahaha

irishwings — 2004-04-14T08:04:00-05:00

This quiz result was just too funny:

You're Most Like The Season ... NO wait! Hold it!
You're not like a season at all! You're a
psycho... You need a new season created just
for you.
You either answered wildly to be different, or you
truly are a 'special case'. Independant -
maybe, Intelligent - somewhat. Weird and wacky
- most certainly.
A nut case, a fruit cake, the joker, the insane
lunatic :) However be careful or you may get
locked up.

Well Done... You're not at home in any of the
seasons, you create your own.

?? Which Season Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

NOTICE

irishwings — 2004-04-15T01:04:00-05:00

Just in case...

After I took the quiz on the site in my last entry, my homepage was set differently and I had a ton of Spyware on my computer. What happened was, sometimes the site would say "Press enter to continue" as the whole screen, which I thought was odd.

Anyway, it may only be a coincidence, so I wanted to let you know, and I'm taking the link off my entry.

Selfish Slogans

irishwings — 2004-04-19T09:04:00-05:00

Haven't written in a long time. Swamped with work, unfortunately. But I thought I could take a little break and at least write something.

As it's been coming closer and closer to my mission trip to Greece, I think more and more about the world's opinion of Americans. To some, America is a place for religious and political freedom, but for many, we're fat American capitalist pigs. It's sad, really, how much we are like the latter. While I thank God every day for the freedom we have in this country, I get frustrated with the ideals and slogans I see that promote being a fat capitalist pig.

For instance, I recently saw a McDonalds billboard for a new wrap or salad or something. Anyway, the billboard said something to the effect of "I found it...I'll never share it." I think there was another part too, but I can't find the slogan online and don't have a car to drive me out there at the moment. But, anyway, it's the "I'll never share it" that really irks me. I know McDonald's isn't just in America, but I feel like it represents the ideals of this country and many others today. We have money, we have food, and we'll never share it. I know there are charities and all, but people are still starving within our own country.

I don't want to turn this into some call for the world to become perfect by sharing with one another because I know it won't happen. It's just frustrating to see a slogan like that in bold letters on a billboard. It makes me skin crawl. When kids who can read see that sign, won't they wonder why they were taught to share if McDonalds says it's okay not to? I know it's meant to say how "good" the new salad or wrap or whatever it is must be, but it really promotes selfishness I think.

Maybe I'm just looking to deep into this. Anyone have any comments? Feel free to completely disagree with me, because the state of the world is not part of my expertise at the moment.

New Education Laws

irishwings — 2004-04-26T11:04:00-05:00

I recently found out that one of the best teachers I've ever had is leaving the profession. Why? New education laws. Students are slowly being introduced to how to be very good test-taking robots, contantly being tested on their "knowledge." Tests don't show any knowledge if they're standardized multiple-choice tests: those show memorization skills, not understanding. As the teacher said, "I can't teach them how to THINK anymore."

I understand that, yes, it's important to assess students to make sure they're learning, but current assessments aren't going to cut it. The only classes I ever ever ever learned in were those with very few tests, and, when they did have tests, they were on understanding mostly.

This is our future. Why is it being ruined? What's going to happen when I'm out there teaching and realize that I keep my job if my students memorize well and pass the test, but I can't have any lessons in THINKING because it doesn't relate to the subject matter.

Actually, I may end up not teaching what I want to teach at all, because less and less fictional literature is being used in English classes. It's true. A teacher I work with has to defend the teaching of Shakespeare. Why is Shakespeare taught? You have to THINK about what is being said, and he deals with fairly universal conflicts, and the characters are usually pretty deep. But, no, God forbid there be THINKING in the classroom. Mechanics should be taught--yeah, like those are used in everyday life. To some extent, yes, but how important are they?

Anyway, I'm just a little frustrated at the moment. If things don't change in public education, I don't think there will be any decent teachers left.

Be Different -- Everybody's Doing It

irishwings — 2004-04-27T10:04:00-05:00

This is a reflection I wrote for sociology class I wrote as a first-semester college freshman. But what it says (in a choppy, too-formal fashion) is something I still believe, and, of course, am a culprit of.

Individualism is listed second among the 14 core values of the United States in James Henslin's Essentials of Sociology. Looking at America today, it is clear that individualism is, in fact, an indispensable value of most of society, and the push for individualism is increasing.

One of the first emergences of the recent explosion of nonconformity is the increasing use of unusual baby names. For instance, the names Skyler, Logan, and Kiara have distinct sounds and have become popular names for children recently. By having a unique name such as these, a person stands out from other people with more well-known names like Jennifer, John, and Ashley.

In addition, cellular phones provide people with chances to display their individuality with various face plate designs, different ring tones, and holograms to put on the screen. For example, a person could have a flowered face plate, a ring that plays "Take Me Out to the Ball Game," and a hologram of a bird on the screen. Thus, people don't have to have the same phone as everyone else--they can have their own uniquely designed phones, individual from everyone else's.

Finally, AOL Instant Messenger gives people the opportunity to display their individuality. On Instant Messenger, people can choose a buddy icon, which is a picture displayed on the instant messages they send to other people, and the icon becomes part of that person's online identity. Additionally, people can pick which sounds they would like to hear on Instant Messenger when people sign on, sign off, or instant message them. For instance, a person's buddy icon could be of Kermit the Frog, and their sounds could be a trumpet for people signing on, a sigh for someone signing off, and a cow mooing for instant messages received. In this way, people can have sounds and pictures individual to themselves on Instant Messenger, setting them apart from the rest of society.

However, the push for individuality has almost become a trend. Names like Mary and George that were once considered common are generally not heard in preschools as often as Skyler, Logan, and Kiara. It has become the popular thing for children to have unusual names, but if the names are popular, then they are not unusual anymore--they're common. Furthermore, bland, gray-colored cellular phones with boring, normal rings are not as common as the rainbow of colors and symphony sounds produced from most cellular phones. And finally, those people with no buddy icons and normal, bland sounds on Instant Messenger are sometimes harder to find than those with sounds and icons that are personal to them.

As a result, being "individual" what most of society does; however, being an individual means not conforming to the rest of society. While many claim to be "individual," they are actually following a trend, and we must ask ourselves: is a person "individual" for the sake of society or for him- or herself?

Nikki Giovanni

irishwings — 2004-04-28T08:04:00-05:00

Tonight, I went to go listen to the poet Nikki Giovanni speak, and, while I loved everything she said (she's hilarious but still makes strong, inspiring points), some things she said really stuck out for me. For instance:

"I don't care about 'What Would Jesus Do.' I know what Jesus did, and He died to save our butts. . .but that's a different subject all together."

I really like that. She had a fresh perspective on a lot of things. I just thought the overall experience was refreshing and inspiring. What I especially like was that she could speak about the strength of black Americans without making me feel uncomfortable for being white. I was right with her, and the whole program was great. To top it off, they had a raffle and six people won books. I was number two!! I never ever ever win ANYTHING! As my mom says about her own luck, "I could be the only person playing Bingo and I would still lose." Well, that perspective is gone now.

I'm so energized! This has been a fantastic evening!

The Ripple Effect

irishwings — 2004-04-30T11:04:00-05:00

Believe it or not, everything we do affects those around us. Yes, I know it's a bit extreme, but I believe it. For instance, when I write a paper for class, my professor reads it, and reading it will have some kind of effect on them. Maybe they think "Wow, this makes no sense," or "Interesting, I never thought of it that way." The effects don't have to be profound, but they're there.

Okay so what about if I'm all alone in my room--I can't affect anyone that way, can I? Well, my absense could affect people. They might wonder where I am. Plus, what I'm doing may affect my mood. Let's say I'm reading a really great book--I may talk about it later, affecting people, or simply have a change of mood.

And we all know moods affect those around us. We can get frustrated with people who are whining all the time, or be put into a good mood by a particularly goofy person.

Even if someone sneezed in Abu Dabi 1000 years ago, the germs have probably bred, and we may be infected by their offspring today. (Then again, do germs breed? Maybe I should have paid more attention in biology.)

Anyway, I truly believe we all affect those around us in everything we do. Anyone have any thoughts?

Maybe We're NOT Going to Hell in a Handbasket...

irishwings — 2004-05-01T11:05:00-05:00

Just when it seems as if we should give up hope in the goodness of humanity, there's always at least one person that shatters that sense of hopelessness. I'm constantly amazed by the good that lives inside each person. It may be obvious, but sometimes it's hidden, way back in their hearts.

But in this case, the goodness was obvious. This weekend, a girl I barely know from Bible study offered to drive me 2 1/2 hours practically during sunrise to take me to an orientation, (and then back again later that day) since I don't have a car. And it's not like she waited until the last minute to offer, she jumped on the chance. It's crazy how thoughtful people are sometimes. It always restores my hope in humanity. Maybe we'll never have world peace, but I think enough of us can pull it together to give at least one person hope once again.

Why I Love my Job

irishwings — 2004-05-06T11:05:00-05:00

People always ask me why I love baseball so much--it's such a boring sport. The thing is, I work at a minor league stadium, and, well, here's how I feel about it:

We plop ourselves down on a seat cushion in sun-toasted bleachers on a hot summer evening. Before the game begins, we find ourselves craving a hot dog—a giant one with gobs of ketchup and relish—the kind we’d never eat under normal circumstances. Maybe it’s because everyone else eating hot dogs or because we have a burning desire to spend five bucks on scrap meat, but we’ll stand in line for a half hour to purchase the delicacy. Of course, while in line, it’s nearly impossible to purchase just one kind of delicacy; usually greasy French fries laced with dripping ketchup compliment a hot dog nicely.

Once we’re seated comfortably with our food, and we relax with our friends while country music plods along over the loudspeaker, an announcement comes on, “Please rise for our national anthem.” The crowd promptly stands to show its respect for the United States, places hats and hands over hearts, and gazes at the flag during the “Star Spangled Banner.” Some have tears in their eyes as the song crescendos, “O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave / O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?” (Francis Scott Key). The fans cheer, clap, and whistle as they return to their seats.

The game has started, and the vendors are already making their rounds between the aisles. “Peanuts! Salty, roasted peanuts, hot from the oven. Only three dollars. Get your peanuts right here!” “Cold beer—ice cold beer!” “Cotton candy! Pink, blue, or purple. Only three dollars. Cotton candy!” Children tug at their parents’ sleeves, begging for their favorite color of cotton candy or the largest bag of peanuts. Beer, however, is usually the main attraction—most adults in the stadium have at least one in their hands at any given time.

Foul balls occasionally zoom by, provoking fights over the souvenir ball. Some fights include a sight as interesting as a giant woman with tattoos from head to toe to wrestling a skinny teenage boy or a large drunken man challenging a five-year-old girl. However, security usually gets to the scene in time to stop any punches.

Later is the seventh-inning-stretch. A guitar blares and the mascot (whether a bird, cat, dog, or human) bobbles out from the stands and leaps onto the dugout, playing air guitar to “You Shook Me All Night Long.” The stands shake as the fans dance on their seats. Pictures of three-year-olds shaking their hips appear on a giant TV screen on the stadium wall. The next song played is “YMCA,” and the mascot invites a bunch of fans to climb up on the dugout to dance with him. We get knocked in the face with our friend’s “Y” and we elbow him with our “C,” but it’s all right because we laugh the whole time.

After doing the wave a few times, the crowd seems to settle down. The sky has turned a deep indigo and a slight breeze has picked up, cooling off the crowd.

Fireworks—-emerald, fuchsia, gold, crimson—-blast, boom, whistle, and crackle to signal the end of the game, met with “ooh’s” and “aah’s.” We don’t know who won or even who we played, but it doesn’t matter—-it was still a great game, “for it’s one, two, three strikes, you’re out, / At the old ball game” (Jack Norworth).

Blindside

irishwings — 2004-05-16T02:05:00-05:00

Finals week so I haven't written much.

But I wanted to say that I have fallen in love with Blindside's new album, About a Burning Fire. I had never heard of them before, and I heard their song "Pitiful" on a Christian station about a week ago. I've been on a search for Christian "death metal," which my boyfriend says would be "life metal," but, while this music isn't quite that hard, I love it. I also like that they can be subtly Christian, so a lot of people will hear their music and not turn away from it just because it's about God. But their beliefs are still obvious when you see the lyrics, so they reach out to proud believers, non-believers, and self-conscious believers. I love basically all hard rock and death metal, but it's so nice to hear artists that can be hard rockers and love God in their music at the same time.

Highway Angel

irishwings — 2004-05-20T12:05:00-05:00

Last weekend, my Nana (grandmother)'s car started freaking out on a major highway, swerving everywhere. She was finally able to pull over onto the almost-shoulder. It turned out her back wheel was coming off. So, my Nana, in her mid-seventies, is standing on the side of the road as cars zoom by. Her insurance told her to call them before calling 911, so she did, but they just kept putting her on hold.

Suddenly, she saw a man crossing from the other side of the highway where he had pulled over. Turns out he works for AAA, so he went to work on temporarily fixing her car so she could take it to get really fixed.

Then a police officer stopped and yelled at my Nana, telling her to move her car because it was too dangerous to pull over there. Never offered to help her. Just chewed her out and left. Yeah, like Nana planned to pull over there.

The AAA man finished with the wheel, and my Nana only had $30 to give him. He crossed the Interstate once again to leave.

It's amazing when people come as if out of the sky and save your butt soley out of the goodness of their hearts. And it's funny how sometimes those paid to keep you safe leave you standing on the side of the road.

Ah, Still So True

irishwings — 2004-05-22T07:05:00-05:00

Chicago--"Dialogue"

Part I

Terry
Are you optimistic
'bout the way things are going?

Peter
No, I never ever think of it at all

Terry
Don't you ever worry
When you see what's going down?

Peter
No, I try to mind my business,
that is, no business at all

Terry
When it's time to function
as a feeling human being, will your
Bachelor of Arts help you get by?

Peter
I hope to study further,
a few more years or so. I also hope
to keep a steady high

Terry
Will you try to change
things, use the power that you have,
the power of a million new ideas?

Peter
What is this power you
speak of and this need for things to
change? I always thought
that everything was fine

Terry
Don't you feel repression just
closing in around?

Peter
No, the campus here is very, very free

Terry
Does it make you angry
the way war is dragging on?

Peter
Well, I hope the President
knows what he's into, I don't know

Terry
Don't you ever see the starvation
in the city where you live, all the
needless hunger all the
needless pain?

Peter
I haven't been there lately,
the country is so fine, but my
neighbors don't seem hungry 'cause
they haven't got the time

Terry
Thank you for the talk,
you know you really eased my mind
I was troubled by the shapes
of things to come.

Peter
Well, if you had my
outlook your feelings would be
numb, you'd always think
that everything was fine

Am I in the Wrong Church?

irishwings — 2004-05-25T11:05:00-05:00

I've been trying to get away from focusing on religion too much, but this really struck me:

For all the bad things people say about the Catholic Church, I really think the good people are overlooked. Last weekend, we had a visiting priest who gave a homily on-----evangelism. I really thought maybe I was in the wrong church. After mass, my mom told him that I was going on a mission trip this summer with the Baptist church and that I'd enjoy the homily because I will be doing some evangelism (which, of course, I'm nervous about because it's a new concept to me.)

But how he responded is the best part. For all those who complain about the Catholic church closing itself off from other Christian denominations, deeming them not the "true" Christiantity, this priest said, "That's wonderful! Maybe she can come back and teach us something."

I feel like I should add a little something here, saying how I feel about what this priest said, how it's affected my life, and how I think all Christian denominations need to take down their walls, blah blah blah. But I'd rather just say that moments like these give me so much hope. Hope for the Catholic church, hope for Christianity being more united, hope for world religions being more united, and hope in the openmindedness of people. Perhaps I find hope too easily, but I think that's a good thing.

Oops

irishwings — 2004-06-01T09:06:00-05:00

Sorry for the lack of updates: I was at YoungLife camp from Friday to late last night, so hopefully I'll have something to say by tomorrow....

AAAAH!

irishwings — 2004-06-02T09:06:00-05:00

Bah! All through the semester I told myself: just wait for the summer when you'll have TIME. HAHAHAHA! TIME? I know it's not even real anyway, but couldn't we pretend that there's more of it?

Looking Back

irishwings — 2004-06-06T10:06:00-05:00

Today I worked with three eighth-graders and a tenth-grader. It was really crazy to feel so old. Sitting here now, thinking of the person I was at those ages, I was hardly who I am now. In eighth grade, all I wanted was to have a boy like me. I hated myself, how I looked, how I acted, and was incredibly shy. Whenever I heard people laugh around me, I assumed it was at me. So, to cover up my insecurity, I did a lot of theatre and made friends at church: they went to a different school so they didn't already know me as some nerdy quiet girl.

In tenth grade, I was a little more secure, still only wanting to have a guy in my life. Less shy because of theatre, but pretty much the same.

Now, I'm loud and crazy and I'm pretty self-secure. And I've got a great boyfriend to top it off.

While it all doesn't seem like so long ago, so so much has changed...

Untitled

irishwings — 2004-06-07T09:06:00-05:00

A lot of disaster has seemed to strike lately. A lot of death, tons of car accidents. Everyone's pastor or principal or favorite teacher or boss is leaving.

A friend of the family, a woman who works with my mom, died today. I don't really know how I feel. It's like I still expect my mom to say, "Ha--just kidding!" It's pretty surreal. I usually deal with death by being totally unemotional until I think, "Oh man, I haven't talked to so-and-so in awhile," and then I realize it.

I guess I just don't really know what to say in this entry.

Last time I felt like this was a year-and-a-half ago. A guy at school, someone I saw every day but never knew, died suddenly. Then we had this awful snow storm on Valentine's Day, and, while most people loved being trapped with their loved ones, all I could think about was his girlfriend, lonely and being snowed on, trying to make it to her boyfriend's funeral. During the storm, my friend's mom died. I thought it would never end.

Perhaps tragedy comes in waves so that we can all pull together to support each other.

Or, more likely, tragedy strikes this heavily constantly, and we only see the chunk that touches us.

Death, Flowers, and Action Figures

irishwings — 2004-06-09T07:06:00-05:00

The whole viewing and funeral process is kind of weird sometimes when you think about it, especially the viewing. I went to Mrs. Haupt's viewing tonight, and I never really realized before how awkward it is. People come up and hug you and smile and ask how you're doing, and you say, "Fine," or "Good," but what you're really thinking is, "How do you think I'm doing? I'll never see that person over there ever again."

I also saw a girl I went to high school with that I haven't seen in 4 years. I didn't know whether to say, "Hey, how's school been? How was graduation? What are you doing now?" or to just wave and move on. So decided I'd get ahold of her another time; it didn't feel appropriate to be catching up given the situation.

Then, unless for a youg person's funeral, some people are usually talking and laughing rather than crying with the rest. It's a good way to deal with the situation. Just the mix of emotions is so complicated.

Then again, I'm the one who wants action figures, not flowers at my funeral and viewing. I want it to be this big old party that I loved life and would hopefully be meeting the Lord. But I guess I'd feel weird going to a funeral like that.

Dizzy, But Where I Belong

irishwings — 2004-06-16T10:06:00-05:00

I might as well stop appologizing for my lack of updating because it probably won't change. If only summer break actually was one...

Anyway, this morning, I was still stressing over dizzy spells I had at work yesterday, contemplating if I would be able to get a job at SuperFresh, where I worked four years ago, if it turned out that I'm allergic to the office I work in now.

Then, I suddenly remembered people I used to work with, people I haven't even thought about in years.

So I started playing the "What If" game. One of my favorites. You know, "What if I had stayed friends with Nick," or "What if I was still working there...what would my pay be now?"

I used to play this game almost religiously from 4th to 8th grade. I moved in 4th grade, and I would always wonder, "What if I hadn't moved? Or what if we moved to the house we originally had a contract on before this one?" I hated the fact that I had moved, and playing the "What If" game made me hate the move even more.

But, now, the game has a new twist to it. You see, I wouldn't change anything about my life. In elementary and middle school, I would have changed it in a heart beat, but not now. Now I play just to speculate, to create little stories in my head.

I wouldn't trade any one person I've ever met to see how things would have turned out otherwise. I've been shaped so specifically by those around me that my life would probably be totally different.

And while it's obvious that friends and family have a huge impact, sometimes the little things can spark a change.

Once, while I was in CVS about five years ago, a guy working there asked me, "Why do you girls buy makeup? I mean, you're all beautiful, and you just cover it up." Now, this was probably just a pick-up line he had worked on for awhile, but it's stuck with me since. Why? Maybe it was something I needed to hear at the time. I stopped putting on so much makeup, though.

So the game of "What If" has lost some of its power to give me an escape, but I've realized that I no longer need to escape. I wouldn't change anything to find out "What If," even if it would only affect something as small as a pick-up line from a guy working at CVS.

Wishing To Be Each Other

irishwings — 2004-06-21T09:06:00-05:00

A few years ago, I read an article in some teen girl magazine about all sorts of young American women, who, being non-caucasian, always wished they had white skin and blonde hair, which is what they percieved as beautiful. This shocked me because, when I was younger, I always wished I was anything but a little white girl. I wanted dark brown eyes, jet black hair, darker skin, and for my eyes to be less of an ugly round shape.

Of course, the women in the article grew to embrace their ethnic looks as I have learned to embrace mine. Still, I guess I'm naive; I never thought the women in the article--the women I always wanted to be--could have ever wanted to look more like me.

I guess it made enough of an impact for me to still remember the article years later.

If This Is A Circus, I'm A Pachyderm

irishwings — 2004-06-25T11:06:00-05:00

I often call the cardiologists’ office I work at “the circus” because it’s always so busy. Some days, I feel like we, the employees, are the entertainment as patients are almost run over in the traffic of our halls, laugh at the ridiculous amount of charts we carry at once, or raise their eyebrows at the snippets of conversation they’re not meant to catch.

Other times, though, I believe the patients can be their own little special ring of circus excitement. I swear that I will get some amazing character ideas from these people. Some are so incredibly nice. One of the few times I’ve actually interacted with a real live patient (I usually file their papers and tests), the man was so grateful that I got his doctor to give him a note to return to work, I thought the man was going to hug me right there in the office. I love those people.

And then there’s always the mean ones. And it’s understandable—we see over 100 patients a day, and it can be difficult for a patient to get their own problems taking care of if it’s not down in the schedule book. Luckily, I’ve never really been chewed out by a patient. I’m usually just the messenger, and the nurse or a doctor will come out for any serious confrontation.

And, of course, the most entertaining: the crazies. From the woman who’s in her 60’s or 70’s but still pinches the doctor’s butt to the man who ate his referral form in front of the nurse to the man that thinks he’s still in Vietnam, I will never run short of character ideas for stories.

There’s some patients that have the most outlandish names I’ve ever seen, and others have more common names. Some have accents, some are deaf, some don’t know English, and some have a computerized voice box. Most patients come in with walkers or wheelchairs, but some are my age, some my parents’ age.

Heck, I’m even a patient.

The cardiologists’ office is truly a place of its own, a little circus of non-stop activity, emergencies, pranks, and madness.

But, to me, it is much like a home. To the patients, I’m sure it’s a whole different spectacle altogether.

Worthless?

irishwings — 2004-07-03T01:07:00-05:00

Yeah so the other night we lost power, and when we lose power out in the country on well water, we lose running water too. It came back on yesterday. Today, however, the phone cable for our neighborhood was accidentally sawed in half. And cell phones don't work this far out in farm country.

It's funny how reliant we are on the technological comforts we're used to. AC, running water and flushable toilets, phones.

As hectic as life is, I love it when the power goes out but I have no where to be. It's much more relaxing. We get to play cards, read books, cook on the grill, hang out outside--we're not distracted by what's on TV or who's on the Internet.

Sometimes I get sick of the technological pursuit of laziness and want to go live in the woods by a lake like Thoreau. I get sick of commercialism and consumerism and all the greed and sloth we're surrounded by.

Other times I'm proud of humanity for the steps we've taken. My uncle just had a valve in his heart replaced, two babies joined at the abdomen were just separated, and people can have missing limbs replaced with robotic ones.

I suppose with the good comes the worthless in new ideas. And I suppose everyone has a different definition of what's good and what's worthless.

Anyway, I'm off to eat some lunch. Yay for a three-day weekend! I don't work at EITHER of my jobs until Tuesday!!!! Happy 4th all!

Turtle Power and Zoobilee Zoo

irishwings — 2004-07-07T09:07:00-05:00

What is it about nostalgia? I used to think that obsession with things from one's childhood was a quirk, particular to me and maybe a few others. Sure, I had heard people talk about "the good old days," but I never thought they were quite as crazy as I was about my childhood.

I loved watching old video tapes that had good old commercials on them, jingles preserved. I'd search online for a snippet of theme songs to my old favorite shows. I'd talk about old games and movies with my friends. Nostalgia always made me giddy.

But I've realized now that it must be more universal. I look at tee-shirts, shoe laces, and even slap bracelets that echo the late 80's like I never thought they would. And when I wear a Ninja Turtles shirt or Fraggle Rock patch, people flip. Random people start talking to me, saying "Oh man, that show was the best!" Nostalgia's a great way to meet people.

So why is it that nostalgia brings out that giddy feeling? Is it the memory itself, or memories surrounding it? Or is it just remembering being a kid in general?

Now if only I hadn't tossed my old Ninja Turtles action figures a Zoobilee Zoo puppets...

Ha, Burkittsville

irishwings — 2004-07-16T11:07:00-05:00

While watching I Love The 90's tonight, I was reminded of the great tragedy of the movie The Blair Witch Project when the show interviewed stars about it. I've never seen the movie myself, but that's mainly because, at the time, I lived about 10 minutes from Burkittsville. I still don't know who picked such a random town for a movie.

The real tradgedy was Halloween for the 194 people (yes, that is the population) who live in Burkittsville. People came from all over--mainly just to see that most of the movie wasn't even filmed there. Many of the people who live in Burkittsville weren't too thrilled with all the attention.

It's funny how I could forget something as significant as my neighboring country town being featured in a horror flick passed off as truth. That's just crazy.

I suppose things have been back to normal in old Burkittsville for awhile now, but I bet there are still some people who visit it just in case.

Ozzfest: Rockin' My Socks Off

irishwings — 2004-07-19T08:07:00-05:00

I just want to say that Ozzfest rocked my socks of yesterday! I went with my boyfriend and his dad. It was totally amazing.

Sometimes people wonder how I can be a Christian and still support Ozzfest by attending, since it's reputed to be a bit of a hell-fest. (I mean, come on, my ticket had me in the "Purgatory Pit.") A lot of people also think I'm too innocent to go, not realizing I've been before. I guess I think of Ozzfest as a celebration of metal, and I feel that music of all kinds is a gift from God. What people choose to have their music stand for is their decision. P.O.D., for instance, played at Ozzfest a couple years ago, and they use their music to stand for God. It'd be impossible to subscribe to everything every band stands for, so I'm there for the rock.

Some of the bands were so incredible that I felt like I had left earth and entered a world their music had created. (Or was that the pot fumes?) Tony Iommi was amazing. There's no other way I can describe it. I was in awe of his skill. Rob Halford captured my attention the second he appeared on the stage. (And he did basically appear.) The best part was being in the pit infront of the stage, placing us feet away from the performers.

Well, I'm feeling like it's time to break out the guitar. Hope everyone had a great weekend! And if anyone else out there went to Ozzfest anywhere, let me know what you thought, good or bad. :P

Scary dolls, rain, and dead fish

irishwings — 2004-08-06T11:08:00-05:00

I've been on vacation, so I appologize for not having updtated in 100 years. So prepare yourselves for my own version of National Lampoon's Vacation.

Well, the beach experience just gets crazier every year it seems. First of all, the drive was 7 1/2 hours as opposed to the usual 5 because of traffic. When we finally got to the rental house, we opened the doors to find out not only had the AC been off and the house had not been cleaned, but to my right was a giant display case of dolls. I turned to my left, and up the upstaircase was yet another display.

I am terrified of dolls.

Dolls were everywhere--in the kitchen, in the den, in the bedrooms.

The house was beautiful, though, and I was able to deal with the dolls by the end of our stay. There were some odd quirks about the house, such as signs posted everywhere giving us all the information we didn't need, such as how to flush the upstairs toilet. Despite the quirks, though, there was a security system, a hot tub, and 100's of channels that were of great use durning our stay, since it rained all but 2 days.

Finally, we got a sunny day on Wednesday. Amazing beach weather, especially after the days of thunderstorms. We parked at the beach, started to walked to the shore with all our gear, and there was a sudden stench of dead fish. Dead fish were washed up all over the shore and floating ontop of waves. Perfect. Apparently this occurred all up and down the east coast. But we played in the water anyway, and it was great. I'm too stubborn to let some dead fish ruin my stay at the beach.

More rain and cold weather, and that was about it for the beach trip. Cold rain, dead fish, and a ton of scary dolls.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that some virus has caused my throat to swell so much that 1/3 of it is closed off and my uvula is hanging to the side. What the heck?

Thank God the trip was humorous. Otherwise I think I'd cry.

The Earth's Immune System

irishwings — 2004-08-07T09:08:00-05:00

Being sick reminded me of something we discussed once in health class. Apparently, someone in one of our professor's other classes got a bit philosophical and asked, "What if disease is just the earth's immune system attacking us?"

I guess that question got me to thinking today: isn't it crazy that the "simplest" living things on earth (bacteria) and even "non-living" things (viruses) can destroy even the most "complex" of organisms? I mean, there are people suffering and dying because of things we consider simple and non-living. That's crazy.

I guess it just goes to show that even the toughest beings can be broken down by what they consider to be the most inferior.

I don't know if the student was right or wrong about the earth's immune system. But it really wouldn't surprise me if it was true.

Olympics and Kitchen Dancers

irishwings — 2004-08-14T02:08:00-05:00

Well, I watched the Olympics opening ceremony last night. I can't believe I'm going to be there in less than a week! It's just totally unbelievable. This may be my last entry for awhile, since I doubt I'll have time for the Internet on a mission trip at the Olympics.

Until then, everyone go dance in your kitchens. It's fun.

I'm Back

irishwings — 2004-09-06T10:09:57-05:00

Wow, I leave the country and then Mindsay is totally different when I'm back on American soil. Anyway, hopefully I can figure this out.

In the meantime, I'm going to be posting some excerpts from the journal I kept in Greece. I'm sure that'd be a thousand times more interesting than anything I have to say about being back at school again. (In a nutshell, I went to Thessaloniki, Greece where a team of collge kids I was in helped out an evangelical church for two weeks. There have been several teams helping the church.)

08.22.04, Thessaloniki, Greece

Well, we are in Greece now! After some very long flights, a nap in the Munich airport, a bus ride through Bulgaria to the border (which took about five or six hours, including a pit stop), waiting at the border, walking across the country line, and then a 1 1/2 hour trip to Thessaloniki, we are now at our final destination! I'm exaughsted and I feel disgusting. What a wild trip!

Greece, Cont.

irishwings — 2004-09-08T05:09:58-05:00

I wrote this after we had been given surveys about faith to do with Greek people we encountered. We all went to different parts of Thessaloniki to do these surveys. Through the surveys, which have been going on long before our two weeks there, many people have wanted to hear the Gospel and have committed themselves to Christ. Also, people have joined small Bible studies. The evangelical church also offered non-religious classes, like learning English, for those people that were uncomfortable with the subject of faith.

08.23.04, Thessaloniki, Greece

We have a lot of work ahead of us, but I know it will be great once it starts rolling.

We visited two Greek Orthodox Churches today and took a tour of Thessaloniki. I'm ready to move to Greece! We also attended the evangelical church, and we had some translators help us.

My group didn't survey anyone tonight, although most people did, because our group's trip to our area was so long.

I need to remember some key things:

Acts 20:24-- But I reckon my own life to be worth nothing to me, I only want to complete my mission and finish the work that the Lord Jesus gave me to do, which is to declare the Good News about the grace of God.

Paul goes on to say that he'll probably never see any of them ever again and that, basically, it's up to them what they do with his preachings. This occurred in Ephesus, across the sea from Greece. So close to this ground I've been standing on, Paul wrote these words! One of the girls on the trip pointed this verse out to me because I've been so nervous and uncomfortable about surverying people.

I've decided that I'm going to let the Spirit lead me, wherever that may be.

Divided Christian, Greece Cont.

irishwings — 2004-09-09T07:09:09-05:00

The following is continued from the previous entry. The thing is, I was on a trip with the Baptist Student Ministries, but I'm Catholic. There are a lot of things about Catholocism that Protestants don't agree with. I originally was going into the trip not mentioning that I was Catholic, but when people started saying that the Catholic church is hard to get inspiration from, I felt like I had to say something. Anyway, it was the first time in forever that I've felt like I'm divded as a Christian, and I was very frustrated.

08.23.04 Thessaloniki, Greece

I need to pray about feeling like a unified soul in Christ, not a Catholic soul and a Protestant soul like I do now. It seems that this trip has really brought this out because I usually feel at peace, especially one-on-one with God. But bringing other people into the picture can make things much more difficult than they need to be. Especially this: can I even talk about Uncle Johnny's and Mom's miricles? They deal with St. Jude and rosary praying. [My Uncle Johnny was miraculously healed of cancer when prayed over at St. Jude's chapel, who is the saint for hopeless cases. When he died years later, his grave plot turned out to be next to a St. Jude statue. My mom almost died of an unknown virus, but after tons of rosaries were prayed, she was miraculously healed on September 11th, the day between Uncle Johnny's and my Grandmother's death anniverseries. Read March 24-April 6 entries for the full miricle stories. Most Protestants say that praying to saints and to Mary is wrong, but really we just ask them to pray for us to God, like we would ask a friend. I've never been taught that the saints or Mary do the actual healing.]

As much as I feel like this trip has brought fresh, intense turmoil into my life, perhaps it was there all along and I am dealing with it now.

Remember: God has a plan.

Unified Again

irishwings — 2004-09-12T04:09:31-05:00

The day after the last entry, I was still feeling pretty divided. But God answered my prayers.

08.24.04 Thessaloniki, Greece

Tonight, I opened to a random page in my Catholic daily scripture meditations [Bible Day by Day by Rev. John C. Kersten, S.V.D.] This is what I found:

"Dec. 9. Corinthians 1:30 'Due to [God]...you are in Christ Jesus, Who has become for us wisdom from God--i.e....righteousness, sanctification, and redemption.'

"Who was doing a favor to whom when you accepted your call and now live as a Christian?. . ."

[It continues from there. But look at that--it talks about "accepting your call" and living as a "Christian!" To me, it answered my prayers, showing me that people percieve differences between Catholics and other Christians that aren't necessarily there. Catholics, like all Christians, accept a call to follow Christ.]

That totally made my dichotomy I've been feeling come instantly back together! Thank You God for making me feel whole again!

9-11, Lost its Novelty

irishwings — 2004-09-12T05:09:45-05:00

I'm breaking my Greece pattern because I really feel the need to write about this.

It's so refreshing to have read other blogs that talk about 9-11. It's almost as if everyone has forgotten, or that they just don't care anymore.

Isn't it funny how, for months after 9-11, there was such an amazing surge of patriotism and wanting to help one another? Everyone instantly cared about people they had never met who had died in a building collapse or a plane crash. We actually pulled together as a country and cared about one another.

A year later, we had a huge remembrance ceremony at school. A good bit of the campus was there, and we filled the whole upper quad.

Last year, a couple religious groups had quiet services of about 20 people.

This year, my prayer co-coordinator and I put together a prayer remembrance service for 9-11. One person came. One. One person on a college campus of 5,000 came to pray with us. It was awesome that we three got to pray together, but I guess I just thought more people would have wanted to pray for people only three years after the tragedy. Only three years.

It's almost as if 9-11 has lost it's novelty. It's not "cool" to be patriotic or to care or anything.

Many people I talked to said they don't like to think about it. Are all those heroic deeds doomed to be forgotten? All those people who died innocently, all those who died saving others, all those families scarred with the memory of a killed or injured loved one--are they to be forgotten because we don't like to think about it?

In the words of John Adams in the musical 1776, "Is anybody there? Does anybody care? Does anybody see what I see?"

Back In Perspective: Thessaloniki

irishwings — 2004-09-15T03:09:06-05:00

Now continuing on with the Greece trip journal, I wrote this when we were all totally wiped out. We were jet-lagged, sleep-deprived, confused in a foreign country, and working hard all day, some of us wondering if there would ever be any results.

08.24.04 Thessaloniki, Greece

Jesus went through a lot. I was reading Max Lucado's No Wonder They Call Him the Savior, chapter 21, a summary of the crucifixion in one-word sentences, and God was telling me that we have it so great here. Jesus was 1000 times more exaughsted than we are when He willingly walked to His death for us. We, on the other hand, are walking back to rest, to food, to do God's work, and eventually to return home (and to school.)

No matter how many trials we go through, no matter how beaten down we feel, God is always there, and many have suffered--including Jesus Christ, who sacrificed His life for us--just so that we could be here and know and share that Christ is Lord.

Amazing grace.

Wiped Out, But Filled Up

irishwings — 2004-09-19T10:09:23-05:00

08.25.04 Thessaloniki, Greece

Today was tiring, but it turned out to be totally awesome. Last night, I could not sleep. At 3:45 AM, I looked at my watch and burst into tears. Then my roommates said they had not slept either. I fell asleep a little after that, and we accidentally slept in until 8:15. I know the Holy Spirit was my fuel today because I sure had none of my own spirit left in me.

We distributed free water ("thorean nero" in Greek) with coupons for free Greek Orthodox approved Bibles attached. At first, no one would take the water, but, eventually, people took it and were very happy.

My group didn't eat dinner until about 9:30, and then we decided to walk along the water and pray instead of taking the bus a half hour away to do surveys, which haven't been very successful in our area. Walking along the Aegean Sea, I could totally feel God's presence. For me, it's easy to feel God when connected with nature.

When we were praying, a man in a bright green shirt handed us each a paper and he spoke really fast in Greek. The whole paper was in Greek except for a web address at the end: www.christianity.gr. We thought about finding him, but he had given us the last sheets and was gone. We asked a lady nearby if she could read the title to us in English, and she said it means something like, "Somebody Really Loves You."

It was as if God was saying, "I'm listening, and you'll never be alone."

The rest of the night of prayer was great. We sat on a bench and sang a couple songs. I sang "Be Not Afraid," my favorite hymn, and it actually sounded in tune! [I cannot sing. Even my parents admit it.] We prayed that God would bring us someone to survey. Then a man sat next to us. We passed up the opportunity, partially because our friends came by and then he left. But I'm praying for forgiveness for passing up an opportunity that God practically gift-wrapped for us.

Anyway, I need to catch up on some sleep. Praise the Lord for this awesome day!

Reminder from the Big Man

irishwings — 2004-10-04T02:10:53-05:00

Sorry for not updating. Here's more about my trip this summer:

08.28.04 Thessaloniki, Greece

Today, while distributing water, a Greek man that now lives in Canada said he believes in a God but doesn't understand why we need to tell people about our faith. He feels that organized religion exploits good people for money. There were too many of us to have a conversation, and everyone just started saying, "But Jesus loves us and wants you to know He loves you too." I knew that saying that would be pointless. It made me realize that God has given me a gift for talking to people that challenge my faith. I love talking about my faith and listening to what others have to say. I wish I had had a chance to talk to this man, because I agree that what he said can be very true, but it isn't always true. Maybe God wanted to remind me that, while I haven't seen results directly through surveys I've done on this trip, I will never fail if I let the Spirit move through me.

Tonight we saw the men's bronze medal soccer(football) match! I cried when it started. I can't believe my dream of seeing the Olympics has come true.

Well, we're off to Mt. Olympus tomorrow!

The Same Subject as All Others, I'm Sure

irishwings — 2004-11-03T10:11:09-05:00

Renewed in faith :)

To all you Bush supporters: go celebrate.

To all us Kerry supporters: it's just four more years.

What I've realized in my own beliefs: God is in control. Regardless of how I worry about our crazy capitalist country, God's got a plan. Maybe we won't like it, but He created everything. He sure knows a lot more than I do. And He's been in charge of the universe for a good ammount of time. He's got to be a pro by now :P

Classic Incidents

irishwings — 2004-11-04T05:11:44-05:00

Two classic examples of the kind of person I am:

Today, I was hanging up fliers in the residence halls on campus. I was in a building I'd never been in before, and I opened the door to go downstairs. Only it was some guy's room that he left unlocked. So, yeah, I just strolled on into some random dude's room. Thank goodness he was dressed...but if he wasn't, I guess that'd be his problem for leaving the door unlocked. His door is located where a similar building has the staircase door...it was really embarassing.

Also, last night, a girl recogized me as the girl who shook the cafeteria walls with her burp. She said that I had the perfect burp: loud, long, with a bass, and punctuated at the end instead of trailing off. That's just awesome that I'm recogized as the burping girl :P

Disease of Apathy

irishwings — 2004-11-10T09:11:56-05:00

I think that there are some major diseases in American socitey today. And I know it's not all of America, and these diseases occur elsewhere also. But I believe that there are some major diseases we are suffering from, myself included of course.

The first that comes to mind is apathy. People seem not to care about things that don't affect them directly. For instance, the problem with the shortage of fossil fuel energy. "Let my kids deal with it!" I said jokingly one night. Of course, everyone jumped all over me, and I still don't think they believe I was joking. But I think that the general attitude is that, hey, if it's not bothering me right now, then why deal with it? I'll do it later. I'm an American, I can procrastinate and put everything off and eat junk food and watch the game and forget about the issues at hand. We, in our dillusions, think that we have that luxury.

But, if it was the other way around, if we had zero fossil fuels now and no replacement, wouldn't we blame the lazy bums before us?

Apathy's a killer.

Incident at the CVS

irishwings — 2004-11-28T12:11:12-05:00

My visits to CVS are often filled with adventure, from the guy at the counter that said girls shouldn't cover up beauty with makeup to the elderly man who swore to me that the viagra he was picking up was not for him because he's "still like a horse," I never know what to expect. Plus the fact that I always see people from high school who don't recognize me is always a thrill.

This weekend, I encountered yet another adventure at CVS. It was disturbing in a different way than the scary old man. A little boy, no more than seven or eight, got my mom's and my attention as we passed him. He was holding a toy car and kept looking around him, so we asked if he was lost. "No," he said. "But I'm been dreaming and dreaming of having this toy forever. And my mom won't buy it and Santa hasn't brought it."

"Well, Santa hasn't come yet," said my mom.

"Well," he said, "my mom said that she won't get it for me, and she knows how much I want it!"

"Well, moms usually know best," said my mom. "I'm a mom too, and she probably has a reason."

Then the boy looked at me and said, almost in a whisper so that my mom couldn't hear, "Look, just drop four dollars for me and I'll pay you back fifty. That's five tens!! Five tens!! And I can keep a secret. I won't tell anyone you took fifty dollars from me. I promise!"

I was really taken aback. "Look, I'm sorry, but I really can't do that," I said. Being broke myself and not knowing if his mom had already bought it for him or if she couldn't afford the toy, I didn't really know what to do. I thought, if his mom can't afford it, how would she react to us offering to buy the toy for her? That whole fifty dollars bribe freaked me out. I mean, this kid's too young to be bribing people with fifty dollars. I guess I'm naive.

He sighed and walked away. I wondered whether this kid just really wanted a toy and would be getting it as a surprise for Christmas, or whether he has a terrible homelife and would be beaten later that night. Or maybe he didn't have a home. Or maybe he had a great, loving one. Perhaps he watches too much TV, or perhaps he lives bribes in everyday life. Maybe he was just making up some bribe. Maybe he had a way to make it happen.

Regardless of whatever situation the boy was in, the incident really disturbed me. I guess I've just lived a perfect little life. When I was a kid, I assumed that I'd get the few things I wanted for Christmas. And when I didn't get my pet flamingo I asked for every single year, I decided that someday I'd be able to buy one. (Of course I later came to understand that people can't just steal random flamingos, and they're probably not too easy to care for.) I felt like I didn't deserve to live a life so full of assurance. I never felt like I had to bribe random people in a store for a toy. (Actually, I was terrified of people, so it never would have happened even if I did think about it.) Also, living in the country, I guess I'm naive to things that young kids face every day. When I hear about drugs in city elementary schools, I'm not a bit surprised, but when one kid bribes some strangers in the country, I flip out. I am that naive.

True Blue Miricle

irishwings — 2004-12-26T12:12:27-05:00

Well, I am back at my parents' house through the end of January, and I now realize that I can't open the reply windows on this computer. At first I thought it was the browser, but I use the same browser on my computer at school. Oh well, I will keep trying.

Anyway, I hope everyone's had happy holidays and/or enjoyed the wintery season. The Christmas season almost embarasses me when I receive so many gifts. I know that I don't deserve them, and I know how many sacrifices people make to give me those gifts. On top of that, I am humbled by the fact that, about 2000 years ago, a baby was born that was God and human and would sacrifice His life for us. It's pretty humbling, and I don't understand why I get gifts when I've already been given salvation.

Why do we get gifts?

When I was little, I decided that Santa made all the gifts for Jesus for His birthday, but Jesus wanted to share those gifts with everyone, especially children. Because Jesus especially loved children. I don't know where that idea came from because my parents said that they had never told me that, nor had they heard that idea.

So, Christmas. We receive material gifts to celebrate the birth of the Savior. It just seems weird and unnecessary to me.

The worst part is that everyone's so stressed. They didn't buy gifts in time, or they received gifts they didn't like. Or they get the video game they wanted and curse at it all day because they're not skilled enough to win it yet. Or they fight over who gets to play with new toys first. They make cookies but then are mad because cookies = fat. Too many drivers on the road. Too many drunk drivers on the road. "You're spending Christmas with HER side of the family???" It goes on and on.

But then there are the moments of real Christmas. Not the sick holiday society has made it, but true evidence of our Savior still working today. Christmas miricles of people being healed of diseases, charities receieving extra money, babies being born, families reuniting, extra welcoming in churches. "Good will toward men" and visiting homeless shelters and nursing homes to bring some Christmas cheer. And the people who sacrifice for others.

Why can't we keep these good moments all year? And why can't we banish the sick Christmas of December, the holiday that is in no way CHRISTmas, but MONEYmas. I hope we can drive moneymas from our hearts this year and always, and keep the spirit of Christ-mas in our hearts constantly.

Like they sing in one of my favorite movies of all time, "Keep Christmas with you all through the year. When Christmas is over, save some Christmas cheer. These precious moments--hold them very dear. And keep Chrismas with you all through the year." "And if that isn't a true blue miricle, I don't know what one is." (Christmas Eve on Sesame Street)

success?

irishwings — 2005-01-08T12:01:51-05:00

I get tired sometimes when people underestimate me...or anyone. People often ask me, "Why are you wasting your time at Frostburg? Why didn't you go to Yale?" or, "Why don't you go for a career that's more successful than a teacher?" "You have so much potential." Well, here's the thing. What is success to one person is not necessarrily success to everyone else. To most people, I think, "success" means respect and money. Like being a doctor or a lawyer or the President. Not some girl that teaches high schoolers for very little pay. Other people base success on intelligence. But what is intelligence, really? And how could people ever assume that TEACHERS lack intelligence? Aren't they the ones that are supposed to bring out the intelligence of their students? Still, otheres base success on fame. If a lot of people know who you are, you've obviously made a great contribution to the world, and therefore you are successful. But what about the people behind-the-scenes? What about those who motivate others to climb higher? What about those who live in remote poverty just to help others get by? To me, success is based on love. And it's not love you recieve, but love you give. The more love you give, the more successful you are. And those people could have money and respect and intelligence and fame. Or they could be poor simple "nobodys."

Cheese rules and Old Bay

irishwings — 2005-02-04T11:02:15-05:00

I wonder how well I'll do at attempting to post somthing every day. Maybe I'll stop waiting for something semi-interesting to write about and just write about whatever comes to mind.

Like cheese.

Why is it always cheese that is the random subject for everyone. Cheese and pie. Hmm.

Well, being lactose intolerant but a dairy lover, I'm all about cheese as long as I have my lactase pills to pop. Especially smoked cheese. Mmmmm.

You know, in the grocery store I went to in Greece, they had like a whole cheese section. It was crazy. It's kind of funny to be in a foreign grocery store, not that I frequent them or anything. Even in different parts of the US, grocery stores are different. I'm all about the spicy foods in Arizona grocery stores, but I miss the Old Bay seasoning of the East Coast. If I lived somewhere where there was no Old Bay, my parents would have to mail it to me in bulk. My buddy from Japan has seasonings mailed to him, since we're in the middle of nowhere and have zero "ethnic" foods.

In Greece, some of the girls I met said that there's not much choice in the way of ice cream. They missed peanut butter ice cream a lot. I'd be pretty sad myself without peanut butter ice cream, or at least without being able to get any if I wanted.

So, cheese rules. And peanut butter ice cream. Even though I'm lactose intolerant. And grocery stores away from home are funny. Aisles of cheese, hehe. And I'd be lost without Old Bay.

no subject

irishwings — 2005-02-05T02:02:34-05:00

Well, it is a totally beautiful day! The sun is actually shining, and it's up into the 40's. The sad thing is, it feels like the 60's to me and to everyone else...I guess we're adjusted to the weather again, wearing shorts in 40-degree weather.

It's fantastic what a difference a little bit of sun makes when you're not used to seeing it. I don't think I could ever live in Alaska. I go crazy if we don't see a non-cloudy day for just a week.

Last semester, it rained for about 11 days. When the sun finally came out for a hot second one day, my roommate said a guy stopped walking and shouted, "Look everyone! It's the sun! Stop and look! What a glorious day!" I do very much the same thing, telling everyone I see to enjoy the sunshine.

Well, that about wraps it up. It's going to be another interesting Saturday of homework. Bleh.

Goodbye Stress!

irishwings — 2005-02-06T01:02:02-05:00

Wahoo! Another beautiful day!!!!

I saw the movie Ray last night, and I thought it was fantastic. I kept forgetting that it was actually just Jamie Foxx playing I character--I kept mistaking him for Ray Charles. I guess I didn't know Mr. Foxx had such talent. I was really impressed. The only other two actors that really make me forget that they're actors, not the real characters, are Edward Norton and Johnny Depp.

I thought the whole movie was well-done, and, although it's a quite lengthy movie, it didn't seem like any time had passed at all.

I feel totally renewed today. I don't know if it's the weather, or church, or the fact that I've started a new semester the right way: excersizing, doing my homework, writing stories again, writing down my dreams again, and journaling online again. I think that I got away from myself last semester, that I let myself get so absorbed in my work that I lost myself, the fun person I am inside.

So I've give up stress. No matter what, I'll find a way. It's never really as bad as a make it out to be. And I know I can do whatever I put my mind to. I have that confidence in myself as a creation of God, and I have confidence in that Creator.

Goodbye stress! Hello life!

Addicted

irishwings — 2005-02-07T04:02:15-05:00

Ballroom dancing is addictive. I think about it way too often, and actually get to ballroom dance way too infrequently. For some reason, it popped right on into my head today, and now I'm longing for some waltzing time.

It's like you have to think in unison with your dance partner, figure out their little signals to you. Then you can throw in enough of your own style to complement theirs. There's something very natural about ballroom dancing, about moving with another human being to music. But there is also strategy to it, like "Well if he dips me now I'll bend back just so," or "She looks confident enough to do a death drop, so should I try it?" But the strategy is always changing with the music and with your partner.

The best part about ballroom dancing, I think, is that you can dance with a complete stranger and somehow click perfectly with them on the dance floor. And you can dance and dance with this person but still know nothing about who they are off the dance floor. You can also dance with someone without obligation, unless, perhaps, it's the last dance.

The last dance is more special. And the dance to your favorite song. If someone asks you to dance and they say, "This is my favorite song," they might ask you to dinner sometime that week. Or maybe not. Part of the strategy I suppose.

So I'll still be thinking about dancing as I start reading in a moment. And I will think about it at dinner tonight and probably next week at work. I wish I was waltzing with my boyfriend. As I said, it's addictive.

Too Much Testing

irishwings — 2005-02-08T03:02:31-05:00

"Tests should not be used to reward or punish a school, a system, or a state, but instead should be used as diagnostic tools to improve teaching and learning. Tests should not be used for high-stakes purposes or as exit exams."

(emphasis mine)
V. L. Ferrandino and G. N. Tirozzi, "Test Driven or Data Driven," NAESP Principal Online, June 15 2001

Where Writing Begins

irishwings — 2005-02-09T05:02:41-05:00

". . .[W]riting begins at the point where speech becomes impossible." -- Roland Barthes, "Writers, Intellectuals, Teachers"

One of the main reasons why I love writing so much is that I can write so much better than I speak. When I try to talk, the words get all jumbled up, and what I'm trying to say almost always comes out the wrong way. I switch verbs or names or pronouns, or I don't introduce what I'm saying, or I don't transition well from topic-to-topic. I almost never think before I speak, and I say a lot of stupid things that I later regret.

This is where writing comes in for me. I'm terrible at expressing basically anything in spoken language. Writing takes over when it becomes impossible for me to communicate through speech. (And, even still, writing can be an ineffiecient means of communication.)

Funny Abandon

irishwings — 2005-02-10T02:02:48-05:00

Strange thing about the English language is that, not only are spelling and pronunciation completely irregular, but words can have two unrelated meanings. I can't imagine trying to learn English as a second language. It's just totally ridiculous.

Take "abandon" for instance. It usually means to give something up completely, especially if this violates a responsibility or promise. But it can also mean unlimited enthusiasm. What the heck??? I suppose unlimited enthusiasm can result from abandoning inhibitions, but that's really the only connection I can come up with.

And then there's "funny." "Funny" could mean comical, but it could also mean a serious kind of strange. While they are kind of similar, I still think it's completely confusing.

What a nutty language.

Goodnight

irishwings — 2005-02-12T11:02:56-05:00

Yeah so I skipped a day of entering a journal here, but I was travelling home for the weekend--home where I don't get to use the computer until my brothers are gone.

I got to see my extended family today plus another large family because we threw a double 50th birthday party for my uncle and his best friend. Everyone asked me why I was home from college. Really, it's only 100 miles or so away, so it's not that big of a deal. I just love my crazy loud family. It's shocking to most people--we're loud and nuts and really have no inhibitions about subject matter. It's fantastic. My dad's one of ten kids, and it's a large Irish Catholic family Everyone is very very close.

I'm trying to think of a really good story about my family but I'm just pretty plumb-tuckered-out. I can't believe I just said...well...typed that. Why don't I just backspace? Hmmm.

Oh well, it's time for sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.....................

Missing them back home

irishwings — 2005-02-14T12:02:52-05:00

I am so sick and tired of having my friends ripped away from me and slapped into some country for the sake of war. And most of us don't even know what we're fighting for anymore....

By the same token, I am very proud of everyone in the military. They work hard and put their lives on the line for the rest of us, for our sakes. God bless them for stepping up to the plate while the rest of us are afraid, whether we believe in the "cause" or not. (What is the "cause" anymore...?) Our military men and women are brave and deserve so much more honor than they get.

I just miss them.

no subject

irishwings — 2005-02-15T11:02:31-05:00

Yeah so the internet's been down at school. Fabulous.

I don't have much exciting to say today. It's Tuesday, so I basically leave my room at 9:30 AM and return at around 11:00 PM. At least it's very nice out today. Well that's it. Back to work.

Money and Life

irishwings — 2005-02-16T06:02:17-05:00

"You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all--the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

--Dumblebore, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Getting Dumber and Numb-er in the Snow

irishwings — 2005-02-17T11:02:05-05:00

It's funny...I was thinking earlier about my original perception of college. Having no older siblings, I had never visited too many colleges, and I had a totally naive idea of what it'd be like.

For instance, I didn't think people carried bookbags anymore in college. Why did I think that? What else did I think they carried?

I also thought it'd be autumn at all times. This is mainly because advertisements of colleges always show the changing leaves on the rolling mountains. Picturesque, but not really the case.

Finally, I thought I'd be studying outside, reading the classics, learning how to think, etc. Perhaps this would occur if I attended a non-traditional liberal arts college with a focus on the classics. But the reality is that I can only afford a state college, and I spend my time inside hiding from the snow, skimming boring textbooks or hitting up SparkNotes--and I think I've gotten dumber. I stopped thinking a long time ago. I just recite back to the professors what they want me to know for the exams.

I also spend my free time at Super Wal-Mart.

It made me sad to think about all this today. How beautiful my perception of college was...and how mediocre my education has turned out to be.

In defense of my school, though, I have built fantastic relationships with people that I will always love. And I wouldn't change this for all the bookbag-less autumn days, for all the classics, for all the thinking there could possibly be.

Blustery Day

irishwings — 2005-02-18T02:02:53-05:00

It's mighty chilly today. My skin is still cold. I would hate to be lost in the cold. It hurts.

We Don't Want No Charity Shows

irishwings — 2005-02-18T09:02:44-05:00

What makes me really raging mad is that we can't reherse in the theater until the night before the show. Until then, we're in meeting rooms. No stage, no nothing.

You know why?

The University caters to other shows. Other shows bring in money.

But no. The Vagina Monologues is a benefit show that gives all the money to charity. Hell no, the University shuns us.

Plus we're just a bunch of butch lesbians bitching about how the vagina is superior to the penis. Or at least that's what's obvious to everyone who has not seen the show.

arg

irishwings — 2005-02-20T11:02:31-05:00

Hey, so this next week I will be posting short blogs, if any, since it is show week.

I'm still angry from my last post about not having rehersal space...we got kicked out of ours tonight, even though it's show week for us and we had signed up and reserved the space. I'm sick and tired of this bull crap. And I don't get angry very often.

Somewhere

irishwings — 2005-02-22T04:02:18-05:00

I'm exaughsted emotionally, physically, and mentally. I miss the days when I was a freshman here, when I never had work to do, and I would just drive around, play with toys at WalMart, watch the Simpsons, eat Taco Bell. It all seems like a fantasty now. Now I wonder how all of that could have ever been possible.

I don't know how everyone else does it. Everyone else who watches TV constantly and everyone who has hobbies. That used to be me. I used to have a life.

I promise that there's a real me inside...somewhere...buried underneath the novels and the textbooks and essays and lesson plans and research.

I swear there's a real me somewhere

Yay to the Nice Guys!

irishwings — 2005-02-26T03:02:49-05:00

http://www.stwing.upenn.edu/~jenf/writing/rant04.html

I thought this was going to be just another nice guy complaining about how much it sucks to be a nice guy, but this article provides hope at the end, so I enjoyed it.

I wish nice guys didn't always feel like they finish last. I admit, a lot of girls are crazy and say they want to date a nice guy but, when offered the chance to, they say he's "too nice." What does that mean? Would it be better if he made you feel ugly and stupid every now and then?

I jumped at the chance to date my boyfriend, who other girls claimed was "too nice." After dating over a year and a half, I have the same girls telling me how lucky I am to have him. It's a strange cycle.

Anyway, horray for the nice guys! I know tons of them, and they're all sad and single. So girls, just to let you know, there is no such thing as "too nice." Expect compliments and massages and romantic messages left on your door or on your voice mail. Expect flowers that he says cannot compare to your beauty, expect door holding and RESPECT. Expect him to hold your hair back when you're spewing your brains out, and expect him to still think you have an incredibly beautiful face afterwards. Expect to watch The Notebook or another romantic movie and know that you've still got it better. And while you may think this is all "too nice," ask yourself why you think this. Is it because you don't think you deserve him, or are you afraid?

Too Poor, Too Small

irishwings — 2005-02-27T06:02:25-05:00

Your world is not an easy one, illustrious ones!
When we extend our hand to a beggar, he tears it off for us
When we help the lost, we are lost ourselves.
And so
Since not to eat is to die
Who can long refuse to be bad?. . .
. . . Why are bad deeds rewarded?
Good ones punished?. . .
. . . All that I have done I did
To help my neighbor
To love my lover
And to keep my little one from want
For your great, godly deeds, I was too poor, too small.

--The Good Woman of Setzuan by Bertolt Brecht (trans. byEric Bentley)

Internet still down

irishwings — 2005-03-01T11:03:27-05:00

You know what I love? The fact that the campus is still sloshing our e-mail boxes with mail, about 10 e-mails a day, when they know very well that the Internet is down campus-wide except for a couple computers in the 24-hour lab. Then they have the nerve to tell us our mailboxes are too full.

Well, seeing as how I'm at work, that's it for now. I wish I had something exciting and intelligent to say, but I really don't.

The Art of Belching

irishwings — 2005-03-02T03:03:23-05:00

I love to burp.

I burp a lot.

I have decided that burping is really an art. I call it "The Art of Belching."

Why is it an art? you may ask. Well, good burps have forms to them, have passion. Most people rate burps purely on volume and length. While that is all very important, a loud, long burp with zero passion might as well not have happened.

For instance, some have facial expressions with their burps. Some have hand motions. Some beat their chests. Some have sneaky burps, like all the sudden, there it is, this super-loud belch from no where. You have to ask yourself, what emotion is behind this burp? Pride? Surprise? Excitement? Give your burp emotion. Give it passion! I'll take a meek but passionate burp over a strong but emotionless burp any day.

There you have it. The passion, the expression, is what makes burping an art form. Passion is what makes it the Art of Belching.

Love Yourself

irishwings — 2005-03-03T10:03:44-05:00

In church on Sunday, Father Ed started talking about how it is sometimes difficult to love our neighbor as ourselves because we sometimes do not find our neighbors easy to love. Something struck me then: "Love your neighbor as yourself" presupposes that you love yourself. And this commandment, to love your neighbor as yourself, is what Jesus identifies as the second greatest commandment. So loving yourself must be important.

In Christianity, I think we put a lot of emphasis on staying away from self-glorification and vanity. And this is important. But, in staying away from these, do we forget to love ourselves?

Remember: God dwells within us, because our bodies are a temple for the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 6:19). We are God's workmanship (Eph 2:10). God created us in His image, and He found His creation good (Gen 1:27, 31). We should love ourselves as we love any creation of God. As a friend of mine says, "God don't make no crap." To have self-hatred is to insult God's work. There is a lot to love living within us.

Sick Cycle

irishwings — 2005-03-05T04:03:17-05:00

(Funny how this contrasts with my last entry.)

I'm starting to feel like an obnoxious person. Lately, I feel like I've been getting on people's nerves. On Thursday, a girl snapped at me in class and told me to stop bragging about the English department. I couldn't tell if she was kidding or not. Then, in my next class, we were reading our papers aloud in groups. I apparently read so loud that the entire class stopped talking and listened to my paper, which is kind of embarassing. Another guy that day got mad at me because I couldn't hear what he was mumbling to me in class.

And today, I just feel like every time I talk to people, somebody else's words come out. People seem uneasy around me, people I'm friends with. They shift in their seats and look away from me.

I wish I knew, though, if it's all in my mind.

It reminds me of when I used to hear people laughing around me, and I'd always assume they were laughing at me. I hated myself at that point in my life, and I hated being around people my own age.

I hope this is not happening again. It took a lot of work to get through that part of my life...and I don't think I could take it if it starts again.

What is it about music that is so wonderful?

irishwings — 2005-03-06T07:03:03-05:00

What is it about music that is so wonderful?

caged.

irishwings — 2005-03-07T02:03:35-05:00

Yank, to a gorilla in the zoo (with some changes for readability):

"Sure, you're the best off! Yuh can't think, can yuh? Yuh can't talk neither. But I can make a bluff at talkin' and thinkin'--almost git away with it--almost--and that's where the joker comes in. I ain't on earth and I ain't in heaven, get me? I'm in the middle tryin' to separate 'em, takin' all the worst punches from both of 'em. Maybe that's what they call hell, huh? But you, yuh're at the bottom. You belong! Sure! Yuh're the only one in the world that does, you luck stiff! And that's why they put yuh in a cage, see?"

--The Hairy Ape by Eugene O'Neill

I Don't Know Anything

irishwings — 2005-03-15T11:03:39-05:00

Well, a buddy of mine will be leaving for Iraq soon. I can't believe a month has already gone by since he told me. It's strange how real everything is becoming. I remember studying wars in elementary schools, and we studied them all as if war was a thing of the past. Even when another friend of mine joined the Army four years ago, we thought it was such a "good, peaceful time."

But war is now. It's not something we're removed from, reading in books. It's something we've got to live, whether we are directly involved or involved indirectly through friends and family. Most people I know have felt some kind of loss over the fighting going on.

Worst of all, I think morale is very low. Back here at home, we don't know why we're in Iraq. No weapons of mass destruction--those have been all but forgotten. Some people say we're building a democracy. But are we really? I think it's an idealistic cover-up for a mistake. It's not our job to bust into countries and set up a new government. Our citizens were not told that their sons and daughters' blood has been shed to reconstruct another country's government. What about our own country? We need help taking care of our own people.

I still have mixed feelings though. When I met some guys from Iraq at the Olympics this summer, many of them were very happy. They told me that they were excited to be able to participate in the Olympics unafraid of what would happen to them if they did not win. Many of these young men were refugees, though. I wonder what the people who live in Iraq would say. Regardless, it was hard for me to believe how friendly they were to us Americans. They seemed to me very gracious, good people. Much better people than myself.

I'm not really knowledgable enough to have a strong, valid opinion. As much as I've tried to grasp from the news and from the Iraqi men and from history class, I still feel like I know nothing. Perhaps it's because I don't know what sources to trust. Perhaps it's because I'm too lazy to do in-depth research. Maybe I just don't feel like I need a valid opinion: elections are over, my friends will still keep getting ripped from school to fight for nobody-knows-what, and I'm not in the reserves so I will probably stay put. It feels futile sometimes. Or maybe I'm just emotionally drained, tired of thinking about it, tired of feeling defeated.

I've realized that I just don't know. I don't know anything.

APALLED

irishwings — 2005-03-16T08:03:15-05:00

Our school newspaper frustrates me. One column, which is the only column some people read, is usually highly controversial. Controversy is interesting, and it does get students to read the paper, but I feel the column goes a bit too far.

The same guy writes every week and usually complains about something-or-other on campus. This could be interesting if there were facts or intelligence behind his complaints.

Instead, he chooses to be offensive. For instance, when V-Day was in full swing (V-Day is a movement to stop violence againt women), he wrote that he was "sorry that big rednecks named Earl occassionally back-hand their wives." I know young women here who have been beaten or sexually abused, many by their own fathers. This is the reason they are involved in V-Day.

Recently, a friend of mine who is studying abroad from Ireland wrote a letter to the editor in support of V-Day and gay marriage (another topic that had exploded in the newspaper). The same guy who made the Earl comment wrote in response to my friend's letter, "Go back to Ireland, you patty, where you can wave your shamrocks."

Has the school newspaper been reduced to unintelligent insults? What does this say about our university?

Intolerance like this has no place in a school newspaper, especially when a study abroad student, a guest here, is told through offensive stereotypes to go back home. I am appalled that those words, those stereotypes, those insensitivities, are in MY school newspaper, representing MY UNIVERSITY.

remembering

irishwings — 2005-03-25T11:03:26-05:00

Sometimes I forget that I never knew my Uncle Johnny. The memories of my family have become vivid memories of my own.

Today is Good Friday, the day that Jesus' death on the Cross is remembered, three days before Easter Sunday, when we celebrate His rising. On Good Friday, my dad's family goes to Gate of Heaven cemetary, where a bunch of reletives are buried. We never plan on where and when to meet, but we all find each other every year. My dad is one of ten children. We visit the graves of my grandparents, my dad's cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparerents and friends, and we visit my Uncle Johnny's grave.

My Uncle Johnny died of melanoma at 36. But in those 36 years, my uncle witnessed fantastic miricles. When he was 26, he was on his death bed from the melanoma, and a priest prayed over him in a church called St. Jude's. That night, my uncle was healed and had grown a new vein around his tumor. From the on, he called himself Saint Jude's "right-hand-man," and Uncle Johnny's miricle became one of the miricles that made St. Jude's a shrine.

Ten years later, after my uncle had gotten his life in order and had deepened his faith, the cancer returned, and he died. When my aunt, his wife, tried to find him a plot in Gate of Heaven, there were no plot openings. For some reason, though, a plot was sold back, and she was able to purchase it. It was to the right hand side of a St. Jude statue. So he was always be Saint Jude's right-hand-man.

These memories and many others have become my own. Like the image of my uncle with his black hair slicked back while he wore a leather jacket. Or his face after he saw his last movie, E.T. I remember as if I was there because the stories have been told to me so clearly, over and over.

For me, Good Friday is about remembering. Remembering loved ones that we've always felt we've known but maybe never met. Remembering Christ dying for us. Remembering the forgiveness that came as a result of His death and resurrection. Remembering that life on this earth is short, but the memories we create will live on through others who tell the story.

Why?

irishwings — 2005-03-28T05:03:55-05:00

At my church's Easter Vigil, I was caught up in the symbolism and the sermon and God's love surrounding us. Then I wondered out of no where: what about our armed forces overseas? What about people who are not free to celebrate Easter because their country does not have religious freedom? For the rest of the night and for the rest of yesterday, my thoughts were focused on these questions. I sometimes wonder why I am blessed with freedom, why I'm blessed with having food and shelter and a good family, why I'm blessed with education, why I'm blessed with the millions of other luxries I have. Why?

Lent Lesson

irishwings — 2005-03-29T01:03:29-05:00

In elementary school, I used to hate lent. I had to do extra chores or give up a favorite stuffed animal or be extra nice to my brothers. I was so mad that Jesus ever spent those 40 days and nights in the desert. I didn't understand why we had to put ourselves through a desert of setting the table every night instead of every other night.

As I got older, around middle school, I used lent to try to break my bad habits, ones I knew were definately not glorifying to God. But, as Easter rolled around, I was thrilled to take the bad habits up once again. I did, however, try to wait until the day after Easter, especially when I had given up cursing.

Then it hit me in 10th grade: Jesus died. Brutally. For us. For dirty, ungrateful sinners who deny Him over and over again. I don't remember what I gave up for lent, but I do remember slowly taking down the decorations in my room, finally covering my mirrors in black fabric on Good Friday. After the Easter Vigil on Saturday night, I put fake flowers and ribbons all over my room. It was spectacular to wake up on Easter Sunday! Christ has risen! Alleluia!

That year, I discovered that lent was about anticipation. Anticipation of Christ's rising. But it is important that we remember how much He gave for us. How much He suffered. For us. Us.

This year, now a junior in college, I've discovered something new from lent. I chose to give up all desserts this year, and anyone who knows me knows that I might as well have given up sunshine. I felt that dessert was something frivolous, though, something I liked a little too much. By taking it out of my life, even though I complained a lot at first, I realized how much I did not miss it. I didn't mind my friends eating ice cream and cheesecake in front of me. In fact, I encouraged it. Sometimes it still bothered me, but much less than I had imagined it would.

I realized that I didn't miss something so material, something only physically satisfying, because God filled that void of enjoyment. Even now that I can eat whatever I want, it's unsatisfying. It's much better to have a void filled by God than to have no void at all. It sounds silly, learning more about God by laying off the chocolate and sugar, but that's where this year's lent lesson laid.

classic.

irishwings — 2005-03-30T02:03:29-05:00

My ink only runs out when I am at my breaking point of stress, usually from a combination of schoolwork, friends' issues, no sleep, outside activities, and not enough time with God. But, for some reason, my ink running out tonight has turned me from an emotional disaster into a very happy person. Maybe it just reminded me how silly and trival all the things are that have led me up to my stress. They're not worth the madness they cause me.

the envelope is irrelevant

irishwings — 2005-03-31T07:03:44-05:00

"Nothing on earth is more gladdening than knowing we must roll up our sleeves and move back the boundries of the humanly possible once more." -- Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

This is motivating to me in itself. As I writer, I feel like I tackle the impossible every time I attempt to put a word to the page. I've always worked to be someone who pushes the envelope, tries something new, does something no one else would ever do--in writing and in the rest of life. Someone who does the impossible.

But the impossible sometimes is impossible. For us, anyway.

"Jesus looked straight at the disciples and said, 'This is impossible for human beings, but for God everything is possible.'" -- Jesus Christ (Matt 19:26)

Walking on water, raising the dead, raising oneself from the dead, forgiving all of humanity--He did it all, man. He didn't just push the envelope, He made the envelope irrelevant. There is no envelope with God, no limits, no boundries. He IS.

wonderful migraine!!!

irishwings — 2005-04-01T11:04:13-05:00

Earlier today, a killer migraine came on. I haven't had one like this since sixth grade. It's not so much the pain as it was the loss of eyesight. My vision was tunneling, and I was convinced I'd pass out because it was getting worse and worse. Not fun in a college dining hall.

A friend of mine prayed with me though. Another was convinced I needed an MRI. My boyfriend wanted to cancel our plans to see Sin City. It was...well I don't know the word...but I felt something wonderful knowing that everyone cared about how I was feeling. Knowing that I'm not just the person someone turns to when they need someone energetic to pick them up or make them laugh--that their friendship deepens when I cannot be that person. Although I love to pick others up, it's nice to know that they're there in full force to pick me up when I need it.

When I could see again, it was so wonderful. But the most wonderful part of it, I think, was others' love for me revealed.

What Kind of Happiness?

irishwings — 2005-04-03T03:04:09-05:00

What kind of happiness do you forsee for me? Paint me the picture of your happy Antigone. What are the unimportant little sins that I shall have to commit before I am allowed to sink my teeth into life and tear happiness from it? Tell me: to whom shall I have to lie? Upon whom shall I have to fawn? To whom must I seel myself? Whom do you want me to leave dying, while I turn away my eyes?

-- Antigone, Jean Anouilh's adapation of Sophocles's Antigone

Awesome.

irishwings — 2005-04-03T09:04:39-05:00

Classic:

Well, I was balancing my check book, and my back itched, so I un-clicked my pen and scratched my back with it.

Turns out I really didn't un-click the pen. Now I have huge black lines all over my back. Probably at least eight seriously huge lines (my back really itched.) I don't even have a bathroom I can close off to myself so that I can get it off (I'm in the dorms.)

Awesome.

beautiful. incredible

irishwings — 2005-04-04T08:04:16-05:00

Last night at mass, we had a full house in our tiny little chapel. I was wondering if it was just coincidence or if people wanted to go because Pope John Paul II died. I'm sure the Pope is smiling down, seeing a bunch of college students trekking across campus in the snow to go to mass when maybe they normally wouldn't. I'm sure he said it was beautiful.

He lived such a full life. Eighty-four years, and he worked for peace, for love, for God. As he died, millions prayed for him, and he died knowing he'd finally get to see the One he has worked so hard for.

Losing such a great, loving, peaceful, strong leader is difficult. But I rejoice in the fact that he was our Pope, that he made some changes, made some appologies, made the effort to connect with us young people. I rejoice that, after giving us so much, he is now surrounded by incredible peace, incredible love--an incredible God.

How Great to Have a Job

irishwings — 2005-04-06T02:04:39-05:00

I was walking back from the post office the other day, and my stomach was growling. I thought about how blessed I am to have a job this semester: I knew I could afford to go to the store and buy some snack food. Last semester, I would have just grabbed my stomach and dealt with it until dinner.

It's a Beatiful Day, Don't Let it Get Away....

irishwings — 2005-04-11T02:04:08-05:00

Whoops! The weather's been so absolutely amazing that I've been forgetting to write!

I didn't do homework for about ten days, which was pretty sweet, but now I'm playing catch-up. My intramural softball team also has their first game today, which is pretty funny, since I don't know how to swing a bat. We've never practiced. I'm pretty much the worst ball player ever. I've worked at a minor league stadium for five years now, though, so maybe I have some knowledge stored up other than how to dodge the players spitting their gum at me and how to be a bodyguard for the mascot on Camp Day and Scout Night.

It's incredible how much the weather affects us here in our snowy hell. Actually, since hell is hot, most people call this place purgatory. Anyway, once the sun peeks out for a moment, everyone's outside, playing frisbee, tossing a baseball, laying out to get a tan, playing guitar, etc. It's fantastic. I never knew so many people went to school here!

Well, it's another glorious day. I suppose I'd better get crackin' on some homework.

Bored Out of my Mind

irishwings — 2005-04-12T11:04:16-05:00

So today I was observing a high school English class, and, for the second time in a row, there was a substitute, which makes my observation pretty pointless. I need to write a paper about the teacher's classroom management methods, not about how everyone falls asleep when this sub comes in. He just lets the class talk and talk over him, put their heads down, throw stuff around the room. Plus, to top it all off, there was an assembly for pretty much the whole time I was there. So it's been a pretty pointless day so far.

Ah well. There's plenty more hours ahead of me for fantastic things to happen!

Drawn Again to Run Away

irishwings — 2005-04-12T11:04:49-05:00

In Jim's hand, the bog turtle shrinks its orange neck, disappearing inside its carapace. Some primitive fire still glows in the recesses of its shell, millions of years old, reminding me of a world without form and void, before God separated the light from the darkness, me from my twin, land from water, where you can live on both sides at once and you know, lifting one foot and then another, in and out of the bog, that the bog is your body too, that the lines severing one thing from another are chiseled in air, that you can bend down and blow the debris of erased edges into a sky that will blur with shimmer and light.

-- Barbara Hurd, Stirring the Mud

Hurd spouts off words that connect metaphor and philosphy and fact and allusion and imagination. I'm really enjoying this book, and I wish I had more time to read it.

Hurd wrote Stirring the Mud about swamps she visited, connecting the wetlands to the human imagination. As part of one of my writing classes, we, like Hurd, went to a swamp (one from her book, in fact) and wrote about it. I miss writing about nature. Here at school, everything's usually so frozen and windy and dead that I forget nature. I forget it. How? Such a fantastic creation of God, a place in which I always saught refuge from the time I could crawl to today. In high school, I would go outside and catch falling leaves on the wind in autumn. In middle school, I created my own little camp in between two bushes in our yard, and I would hide out in my little camp for hours. Mom would call me in for dinner, and I never wanted to leave. I wanted to live outside.

And now, having been to the swamp, bringing me back to the solitude and peace and purity and rawness of the outdoors that I had totally fogotten, I pray that I never lose the desire to be constantly in nature. To run wild in the fields, living like an animal.

I know I will never allow this dream to come to fruition. I want to have a family, kids. To give back to society. It would be selfish of me to choose the animal life. To choose the escape from society rather than use my God-given gifts to help it.

Looking out the window here at work, I am drawn again to run away. To hide in the woods, in the swamp. Nevermind the bears and the wasps and the snakes. Nevermind that I'd have to kill for food and have to start a fire. I'd get over these fears.

Would I miss people? I love people so much that I imagine I would feel empty without them. But I also feel that God would fill that void so much so that my heart would be bursting with His friendship.

I set back from the computer and laugh. I can't believe I'm writing this. In my heart, it makes perfect sense. Logically, it makes none.

Rockin' God

irishwings — 2005-04-13T02:04:17-05:00

I'm way far behind on my homework and projects, etc. But I would like to say that it's becoming a fantastic week. On Monday night, I pretty much had a breakdown. I was crying and I was convinced that I'll never get my work done and that I'm a failure to everyone who needs me, and I am especially a failure to God.

Yesterday, though, I forced myself to pray and read the Bible for an hour. I really didn't have the time, but I knew that I had to. So much is better now! Everything yesterday seemed like it went right--but what was really right was my attitude. I finished most of my work and I was motivated in everything.

It's crazy how often I forget how much I need to make personal time with God. Group Bible studies are great, but it's not enough.

We have a rockin' God!

Mmmm....fruity.

irishwings — 2005-04-14T06:04:42-05:00

I'm reading Secrets of the Vine by Bruce Wilkinson, since a friend of mine leant it to me and suggested I read it. I'm really enjoying it. Today, I read a chapter about how God "prunes" us. He cuts back the things in our life that are dead or that block light from reaching our fruit. It made me think about how I love so many things, like reading, writing, math, biology, being outdoors, sports, music, theatre, drawing, painting, organizing, medical stuff, ballroom dancing, computer programming and networking, etc. I can't possibly grow fruit on every one of these branches. But when I let my focus be on God, he prunes away all the branches that he knows will choke my best fruit. So I'm not going to make ballroom dancing an Olympic sport and win the first gold medal--that's not what God seems to have in mind for me (at least at the moment). I feel drawn more and more to working with youth, and all the other things I've tried to keep as hobbies out of selfishness are falling away. If I kept them all, I wouldn't be committed to any of them--I'd be spread too thin.

Praise God for guiding me, for pruning me! I can grow fantastic fruit on a few branches rather than letting hundreds of branches choke all my fruit. Praise Him also for the gifts He's given me in order to bear fruit through Him.

School in Spring is No Good.

irishwings — 2005-04-18T03:04:50-05:00

Spring semester is so difficult at the end. There are all these projects and papers and exams, just like the fall, but it's so incredibly beautiful outside. I don't remember it ever being so consistently warm and sunny here. So I'll be locked up in my room with the windows slammed shut (we have swarms of wasps) and the heat is still on in the dorms, so it's about 90 or something in here. I can't keep candy in here because it melts.

So here I am, gazing outside, wishing I was up on the hill in the woods I can see from my window. My phone rings--"Hey Shea, do you want to play frisbee?" My heart jumps, and I have to remind myself that I can no longer let myself have fun. I had fun last week, and now I have to pay the price. Two papers due tomorrow. Two projects due Thursday. Planning a prayer walk for tomorrow. Applying and interviewing for a leadership posistion tomorrow. Speaking at a women's retreat on Saturday. A project and a paper due a week from today. It never ends, and who knows when I'll be breathing heavily in the fresh air again as I dive for a frisbee, knocking 3 other players out of the way.

War Is an Ugly Thing, but Not the Ugliest of Things

irishwings — 2005-04-19T10:04:33-05:00

On Sunday, my friend who is in the Army Reserves called me. He is in Alabama learning how to drive trucks before he goes to Iraq. It breaks my heart that he's leaving. It breaks his heart, too. He's actually one of those college kids who loves school, who loves filling his brain with any information he can grasp or attempt to grasp. But he told me, "You know, not many other people get this chance. I'm going to get to experience something that not everyone else gets to."

I am not a fan of war. I do not think that war is glorious. I owe my life, however, to the men and women who fight for us, who put their lives on the line for us back home. They're heroes. So I want to share with you some quotes.

War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of men better than himself. -- John Stewart Mill

Never give in--never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yeild to force; never yeild to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy. -- Winston Churchill

Be convinced that to be happy means to be free and that to be free means to be brave. Therefore do not take lightly the perils of war. -- Thucydides

i wish i had done my homework

irishwings — 2005-04-20T09:04:21-05:00

thefacebook.com is way too addicting.

Lunar Mines

irishwings — 2005-04-21T12:04:10-05:00

Perhaps it's because I watch too many movies, or perhaps it's because I know too many statistics about rapes and such on campus that are obviously kept as quiet as possible, because I never used to be terrified of the dark. It's something that started growing in me during high school, and it's now in full force. I used to think the dark was peaceful.

So here we were, three college students trudging through dark dark woods, fairly removed from the lights of our campus, and our eyes had not yet adjusted. The moon wasn't even out because the clouds were choking it and the stars. My legs were slashed second by second with throrny branches that we couldn't see. In the woods, little night animals rustled around, so I grabbed Joe's arm for dear life. When did I become so afraid of what used to make me most comfortable?

And then we emerged. Below us, gaping craters of coal dust, coal chunks, and debris. The old abandoned mines. I had never seen them at night before.

"So, you see that little path leading down into the pit?" Joe asked. "That's the way we'll take."

I gulped. We weren't going home? It was midnight. Why were we, three college students, going into the pit of an old mine in the cloudy darkness of night?

So we climbed down into it. Joe made sure Haley and I didn't fall. I almost did a few times. I'm clumsy, I just finished running for a couple miles before this excursion, I had to get up at 7:30, and I'm terrified of the dark. Why was I there?

We followed a path through the mine pits and came up on the other side. Joe wanted to reach a hill off in the distance, but as we moved closer, it never seemed to be reachable.

The road we followed reminded me of Hell in Constantine. Add some fire and goblins, and it would have been. Everything around us was grey--coal dust, cloudy night--and the wind was whipping by more so than usual, tossing coal dust into our eyes and all over our bodies. Forboding trees warned us off from the distance. Hell in greyscale, minus the heat. I wanted nothign more than to run back home.

Suddenly, the clouds began to break. Stars peeped through the holes. The moon breathed down its light on us as gaps passed over it.

I could see the outline of the clouds now. Like a storybook. Like Chris Van Allsburg had illustrated it.

We stood there for some moments, legs torn, bodies grey, hair whipping, goosebumps rising. Silent.

We decided not to reach Joe's hill. As we turned back to campus, its lights, like Christmas, welcomed us back home. We watched our footprints stay stationary despite the wind. Like was were walking through moon dust. I always did want to be an astronaut.

I was still convinced that someone lurked in the woods or in a ditch somewhere, just waiting for three crazy college students to crawl through some mines. Or maybe there was a bear. We have constant sightings here. I knew it wasn't probable, but I thought it anyway. But the lights ahead of us and the moon and stars occasionally glowing down on us reassured me that coming here was the right choice after all.

Rockin' Guitar

irishwings — 2005-04-22T01:04:14-05:00

I'm listening to "Man Made God" by In Flames. What an incredible song. I can't wait to see them at Ozzfest :D

Snow :(

irishwings — 2005-04-24T01:04:27-05:00

It's been snowing all night. It's supposed to continue through Monday. Perfect, so that all the plants that FINALLY started to bud a couple days ago will all freeze and die. And all the poor little animals, who should know that the snow always has one last hoo-rah in April here, will think it's time to hibernate again. And we were finally starting to see life!!!

Sometimes I think I might hate this place, but all I can really do is laugh at this point.

Tree-climber

irishwings — 2005-04-26T11:04:54-05:00

I would like to go climb some trees. When I was at home, I used to sit in a tree whenever it was nice and do my homework while lounging on a branch. Regarless of how many birds pooped on my head or on my books, I loved it. My family wouldn't know where to look for me sometimes, especially when I was in high school. Who still climbs trees in high school? I still climb them now when I'm home.

The worst was when Dad would cut off the best branches. He said he didn't want us breaking our necks. Pollyanna must have warped his view of climbing trees. I'm 21, I should be able to handle it.

Pine trees are really the easiest to climb. I remember climbing my nieghbor's pine tree. Her dad nailed wooden planks across some of the branches, and we would all sit up there for hours.

He died of a heart attack this past New Years.

I wonder if those wooden planks are still there...if Mr. Murphy's work still lives in that pine tree.

That tree was how I discovered my pine allergy. I had a migrane and some killer rashes. I climbed back up days later anyway. Stupid things like that wouldn't hold me back from tree climbing.

Someday, when I have kids and grandkids and great-grandkids, I'm going to have a wicked awesome tree for them to climb. And I'll climb with them. 100 years old, still laughing and gazing from a tree branch.

Heckling is Dumb.

irishwings — 2005-04-27T11:04:31-05:00

Some hard-core heckling took place today at our intramural softball game. My favorite was when the other team was up to bat first, and a guy on their team yelled loud enough to be heard in Italy: "Hit it to right field! Hit it to her [me]! She can't catch! She sucks! She's their worst player!" and such comments. No no, not for a couple seconds. For a few people being up to bat. I just looked straight at him and laughed, since I really didn't know what else to do. I knew he had seen me practicing, and I really am terrible. I wavered between being proving him wrong and believing him.

I don't know why it makes me so upset. I guess it's because there were some really nice people on his team. It's just in absolute poor taste to heckle the other team (which he continued to do throughout the game). It makes the whole team look bad. What bothered me most though is their team wasn't that good. And it's intramural co-ed softball at a tiny college. No one cares who wins aside from a few people here and there. I don't know why it has to be ugly when it could just be a fun game.

Intramurals should be about fun, not about making people feel like crap.

One plus, though, was that our team held back from starting trouble with him. All the boys wanted to rip his guts out for cracking on me, but they remembered that we're a Christian team with the name "Baptist Student Ministry" on our backs. We remembered that retaliation would solve nothing. We remembered Christ's words to turn the other cheek.

He stopped heckling after we got a home run, with me being one of the RBIs :)

why not?

irishwings — 2005-04-28T02:04:52-05:00

it's crowded in worship today
as she slips in
trying to fade into the faces
the girls' teasing laughter is carrying father than they know

a traveler is far away from home
he sheds his coat
and quietly sinks into the back row
the weight of their judgemental glances tells him that his chances
are better out on the road

Jesus paid much too high a price
for us to pick and choose who should come
and we are the Body of Christ

but if we are the Body
why aren't His arms reaching?
why aren't His hands healing?
why aren't His words teaching?
if we are the Body
why aren't His feet going?
why is His love not showing them there is a way?

--Casting Crowns, "If We Are the Body"

coincidence

irishwings — 2005-04-29T07:04:05-05:00

A couple months ago, my brother's friends' band was going to be playing up here at school. So I tried to find out more information, and ended up asking at local bookstore. They said that they didn't know, but they gave me the number of a guy they knew who went to all the local concerts.

So here I was with this random guy's phone number. I called him and got the information about the show, but it ended up snowing and I didn't go anyway.

Today, after class, a guy I've never talked to told me to have a good weekend. I told him to do the same. Then he said he liked my project I did, and I told him his rocked. He created a sound track to A Wrinkle in Time. Then we talked about music, and he told me I should come to his concert tonight. So I told him about me having to call some random guy about my brother's friends' show. As it turns out, he's the same guy! What a crazy world :D

Top Three Events of the Day

irishwings — 2005-05-01T04:05:48-05:00

Top Three Events of the Day (and it's only half done!)

3. My pants I'm wearing zip on the side, and I zipped up the skin on my hip this morning. Darn that skin for being in the way...I blame it on the cookies I ate...

2. While driving at 70MPH, a piece of something flew in my window and hit me on my chin. It seriously hurt--I almost pulled over.

1. Driving back from a search for a local swamp, the clouds covered the sun so that it looked like a carpet of shade was being laid out for me as I drove. The sunlight was always about 30 ft from the front of my car, and this continued for several miles. Fantastic.

and then I awoke

irishwings — 2005-05-03T12:05:24-05:00

I've been fairly negative about Pope Bendict XVI being the new Pope. I don't agree with him on most issues, and I feel like he was chosen just because he was the oldest, and they wanted someone who wouldn't be Pope for very long.

But there's always been something deep inside of me that said, "It's not Christian of you to judge someone. You don't know him, and you're not in any place to judge anyone. Only God is."

So then I had a dream:

Our new Pope was actually in training, and Pope John Paul II was still alive. I'm not sure why, but John Paul II was training Benedict XVI at my home church. Go figure. So the whole church was in a uproar, and Benedict XVI said Mass. I don't remember much about it except that I liked his homily (sermon).

As I was cleaning up after Mass, I saw him standing in a corner, and he quietly said, "Fuck no!" I was shocked, as you would imagine, to hear the Pope drop the F-bomb. But he looked very troubled, and, as I approached him, I saw that he was crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I'm not fit for this job," he said, sobbing.

I put my arm around him. "God is with you," I said. "We don't do these things on our own. Remember your roots in Christ, and listen to what he says to you. You're His child, and He loves you."

Benedict XVI sniffled, and then he smiled at me. He patted my shoulder.

And then I awoke.

Awakened

irishwings — 2005-05-05T02:05:58-05:00

I'm listening to one of the most powerful song I've ever heard. He wrote it on the top of a mountain in central America when doing missions work. We need more music like this. I wish it was up on the net, because it should be shared. But the lyrics are the best I can do:

I don't want to hide from the pain anymore,
it's too hard to try.
And I don't want to hide from the truth anymore,
it's too hard to lie.

These days, much thinner runs my blood,
and I'm bleeding more without Your love.
What thoughts are these that evade my soul?
I'm bleeding more without, more without control.

I don't want to mourn for the loss I've endured,
it's too hard to cry.
And I don't want to run from this life anymore,
it's too hard to fly.

These days, much thinner runs my blood,
and I'm bleeding more without Your love.
Still haunted by every fear I hold,
what I'm needing far outweighs the pride that keeps me numb.

I need you. . .

-- "The Awakening," by Touch

nothing gold can stay

irishwings — 2005-05-07T11:05:16-05:00

It was my first night back at the minor league baseball stadium I work at. Everything has changed.

Of the staff I've known for four years, only two people have returned. We have new owners, and new general manager, everything. The worst part is that we now sing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" at the 7th inning stretch instead of the tradition we've had for years and years of shaking our keys (our team name is the Keys, after Francis Scott Key).

Change is good and all, but, sometimes, it really bums me out. We have cool new staff people, but it's strange. I feel like I sit and watch the world around me change, and I change too, but I change in a different direction. As the world speeds up, I decide to slow down. As the world becomes more apathetic, I care more. And I care about that apathy. As the world becomes more greedy, I realize how much more I have than what I need.

Or is it that the world isn't changing at all, and I'm just now beginning to see?

Ignorance Deafens

irishwings — 2005-05-09T02:05:44-05:00

Last Thursday, I went to an information session about Islam. Several campus religious groups were invited, and I was glad we were all getting together, breaking down our strange barriers, and trying to learn in order to understand.

The first part of the session was great. A Muslim speaker talked about the basics of Islam, hoping to clear up confusion. I think it's really important--especially now--to talk about Islam. People often have such strange misconceptions, and I think education is the best way to blot out ignorance.

But, then we had a Q&A session, of which I was not a fan. People submitted questions on cards, and several Muslim men answered them. These questions proved the dire need for cultural education. Questions like, "Why do you not let women speak in public?" and "Why do you promote terrorism?" showed:

1. people didn't listen to what the man was speaking about because he covered those issues already

2. ignorance makes people deaf

Perhaps I've been lucky with the way I have been raised. I have been taught about other cultures, other religions, other ways of life, and I have always, always, always been taught to learn as much as I can about something because our preconceptions are nearly always wrong.

I wonder what people took away from the information session. I hope that the Q&A reinforced what had already been talked about. But I can't help but wonder if people were still sitting there, only hearing what they had expected to hear, blotting out anything that might have lead to understanding.

Keep Your Shirt On

irishwings — 2005-05-11T04:05:38-05:00

Not that I don't love my guy friends, but hypocrisy irritates me in anyone.

Many of my Christian guy buddies have commented that women should wear shapeless sacks so men won't be tempted by their beauty.

Today, those same guys took of their shirts when playing frisbee with us girls.

Perhaps I should have said something. I knew that it is hot outside, but it's difficult for us girls to be held to a standard the guys don't work to meet as well. If we ran around in only our sports bras, that would not have been looked upon well. We'd be "using our looks to bring ourselves gratification by watching the men stumble." It wouldn't have been assumed that we were merely feeling overheated.

But with guys, it's acceptable. It's hot out, so they remove their shirts. Perhaps they don't realize that women can stumble over them just as much as they stumble over us.

Fetter Me

irishwings — 2005-05-13T10:05:17-05:00

You know how sometimes you hear a song and think the songwriter wrote it exactly for you because it plays the notes your heart can't express?

Oh to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

--"Come Thou Fount"

Lunch Visitor

irishwings — 2005-05-13T01:05:30-05:00

Today at lunch, I ate alone at the cafeteria. At the beginning of the semester, I would have sat with random people who looked friendly, but, at his point in the game, I decided I'd just sit at a table by myself.

But I wasn't alone. As I bit into my first chicken nugget, I noticed that I had intruded at a fly's table. He stood still, perhaps hoping that I wouldn't notice him. After a few moments, he began to suck at some partially-dried, sticky soda clinging to the table in a little half-ring, as if someone tried to draw a circle with a drying fountain pen.

He slurped, and then he rubbed his legs together. Then he slurped some more. As I watched his legs, I couldn't help but wonder how they worked. They seemed to have either thousands of joints or no joints at all, since they could intertwine like pieces of thread. And what makes them move? I know we have muscles and ligaments and tendons and nerves, but what could fit in a fly's tiny little leg?

Part of me digs back to remember what we studied in AP Bio 4 1/2 years ago--I'm sure we at least touched on insect anatomy.

But another part of me is glad not to know, is glad to speculate, to wonder, to marvel.

Catching His Hand to Make the Leap

irishwings — 2005-05-14T01:05:27-05:00

"By His wounds we are healed."

I guess I'm so used to hearing this verse, it sounds logical to me. Of course we are healed by His wounds. I don't really think about it. It's like saying someone got a cut on their leg, so another person is healed for it. Crazy talk.

The same with Christ being born of a virgin. It made sense to me my whole life, even when I knew what "virgin" meant. Of course Jesus was born a a virgin--that's the way the story goes. But how is it possible? This, too, is crazy talk.

The biggest kicker is Christ rising form the dead. I mean, come on. His body disappeared.

Sometimes I like to stop and really think about these mysteries of God, these miricles, these impossibilities. I have grown so accustomed to hearing them--in church, at Bible study, in the Bible, in music, in literature, in poetry--so accustomed that I don't think about them. They make sense to me because I've known them all my life. But the impossibility of them, the lack of logic in them, is what makes them fantastic.

It's some kind of leap of faith to believe.

I'm speechless knowing that He reaches out to us so we don't have to make that leap without His help.

It's Still Not Easy

irishwings — 2005-05-15T11:05:35-05:00

I suppose I am now getting a taste of the price I must pay for being an artist.

Recently, I had a poem published in my University's literary magazine. The poem is entitled "The American DISPOSABLE Dream."

Many people told me how much they like the poem, how much they agree that the American dream is no longer about freedom, but it is about throwing away what we don't want to see, whether is be poverty, a bad marriage, or the effects of war.

But my last stanza,

    "Welcome to the American disposable dream, everybody:
                      a TRASH-HEAP
                      with a Flag."

makes people think that I am calling America itself a trash-heap. No, it is the DREAM, the dream of reveling in apathy, of making disposable all the things that we don't want, that I am describing. If we throw away what we don't want, all we will have is a heap of trash, with a flag in it to say, "I did this for the love of my country."

I had thought I had made it clear that the poem was about apathy, with lines about dispoasble people (the unemployed and poor), disposable soldiers (because we forget that they're giving their lives for us), and disposable weddings (because divorce is becoming more and more of a remedy.) I thought that the calling these things "disposable" would make the irony clear. But no. I wonder whether I'm just a terrible writer, or if non-writers have a hard time understanding poetry. Maybe it's a combination of the two.

I am learning now that not everyone in the world is going to understand me. Not everyone in he world is going to love me. But if I do not write, if I do not express myself, I will explode. I should expect for people to misunderstand my art. I should be ready for it. But it's still not easy.

Vacation?

irishwings — 2005-05-16T10:05:33-05:00

So often, people tell me that they can't believe people complain about college life because it's a vacation compare to real life. But I'm not so sure.

Many of my friends are at this University because it's one of the cheapest schools in our state. In addition to working one or two jobs, usually 40 or more hours a week, to pay for their classes, they take around 18 credits a semester to finish faster so they do not have to keep on paying.

Such a life is no vacation. I have so much respect for the students here who work their butts off just to stay afloat. Thank goodness we go to school in a town that's depressed economically--one semester's rent for an apartment can be the same as monthly rent down-state.

Yes, I can see how someone would call my life here at college a vacation. I work only four hours a week, although I work two over the summer, usually 40 to 65 hours a week, which still isn't that bad. Here, I take 17-18 credits a semester, but I am blessed with scholarships that pay for most of my school, although my life is chained to public schools in my home state for eight years. I have friends, I live with thousands of people my own age, and I can go to class and/or work after rolling out of bed, comfortable clothes on, no shower yet.

But for living such a vacation, we are constantly stressed about school, work, rent, and our activities.

What, then, will the "real world" be like compared to this "vacation"? If I work three jobs now just to stay afloat, even though I have scholarships, imagine what it will be like when I'm a poor teacher, taking work home every night.

Just for Fun

irishwings — 2005-05-18T10:05:52-05:00

Only finals week would bring out such heartfelt poetry from me:

i am the master belcher,
hear me roar
across the cafeteria,
it'll drop your jaw to the floor.

About Those TPS Reports...

irishwings — 2005-05-24T09:05:45-05:00

Well, it has been a mighty long time. I moved my stuff back home for the summer, and the Internet was down for a good while. But now it's time to ramble. It's incredible how much the quality of administration affects the workplace. I guess this seems obvious, no big discovery, logical, but experiencing it brings a whole new perspective to it. For the past two years, I've worked in a doctors' office, and, overall, it's a great job. I filed papers and did lots of crap work, but I got steady pay, worked 40 hours a week, had an hour-long lunch, and was able to be off work whenever I needed. Since I had steady hours, I could work my second job often. But what made me leave was not the stress or the lack of human contact or fearing for the sanity some of my co-workers who threatened to kill people, although all these things affected me. What made me quit was the administration. Everyone complains about their boss, I guess, and I never understood why until now. She told us we were stupid, never told us thanks, never told us what we did right, and told people they'd have to use their own cars and their own gas money to run errands on their lunch breaks outside of their contracts. When one employee was viciously verbally attacked by another, she did not react. In addition, the office was in complete disarray. I do not recommend my friends to go to the office because I feared for their medical records. I guess it always comes back to the low man wondering how he works for such an idiot. Movies like Office Space and Christmas Vacation show that almost everyone believes that their boss is the empitome of an idiot. I can't figure out why this is. Perhaps we have a picture of what a boss should be, and then we are let down. Perhaps we actually are more intelligent, only our boss had the money to go to a nicer college, get a better degree, etc. Or perhaps we just like to complain. I'm not sure. To be honest, though, I have been absolutely pleased with every other boss I've worked for. Perhaps, after all, it's just the select few that make us want to create the stereotype of the idiot boss.

My Mind was Famished.

irishwings — 2005-05-25T03:05:05-05:00

It's fabulous not to have homework.

Toward the end of the semester, I had all kinds of poem and story ideas rushing at me, and I'd put them down on paper, but that was all I really had time for.

Now, I have time not only to shape these ideas into pieces of writing, but I also have time to READ what I WANT to read :D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D This is almost unheard of for me as an English major, only ever able to read what I'm assigned.

But I am free once more to delve into any piece of literature. Right now, this includes Ender's Shadow, which, of course, blows me away every time I open it, and The Jesus I Never Knew, giving me interesting information and outlooks I had never before known.

Finally, I feel like I am challenging myself. Pushing my imagination further, catapulting my intellect.

Thank goodness I have a break from school so I can learn.

"The Heavens are Your Tabernacle"

irishwings — 2005-05-26T10:05:24-05:00

The weather was absolutely glorious today. I laughed because God's creation is so incredible. Just grinning and laughing while I drove, while I sat out on our new deck, while I stared into the vibrant blues and greens and oranges and violets of this picturesque planet.

Off to Young Life leadership camp until Monday-ish, adios till then!

incredible

irishwings — 2005-05-31T11:05:25-05:00

Before we got to camp this weekend, we heard rumors flying around about bald eagle sitings on the lake. Of course, all of our best efforts to spot one as we canoed were fruitless. When we gave up, we canoed onto land, and accidentally bumped a tree.

Then, there he was. Gigantic and magestic, his wingspan casting an enormous shadow, the bald eagle soared out from the tree across the lake to a quieter area.

Incredible.

Pieces of my Family

irishwings — 2005-06-03T10:06:57-05:00

[Prepare for rantage.]

Today my brother graduated from high school, and I've been looking forward to it forever. But everything was off.

1. My family didn't wait for me to take family pictures, nor did they take them after the graduation. It's not my fault that I have to work constantly to pay bills. It's as if I'm not even a part of the family anymore because I've been at college.

2. Everyone argued in the car on the way there. No "Hey Brian, are you excited?" or "Wow, you've worked so hard Brian, can't wait to see you walk across that stage." Just my dad trying to argue with me about getting a better job and everyone trying dumb remedies to get me to stop coughing and sneezing. I have a sinus infection--cough drops won't do much.

3. On the way home, I did not hear ONE "I'm proud of you, Brian." Just, "You can't drive anywhere tonight! You'll fall asleep at the wheel and die!" and "Why don't we have this and that done for the graduation party yet? It's on Sunday." No sincere words of congratuations. No joy.

I'm not sure what's going on. Perhaps everyone changed after I went to college. Perhaps I'm the one who's changed. Maybe it's just stress. No matter what, I'm extremely frustrated right now. I feel like everything's just in pieces, and it's my fault I haven't been here to hold them together.

What do words mean?

irishwings — 2005-06-10T10:06:29-05:00

I just haven't felt like I've had anything to write about lately. I'm not sure why. I'm reading, etc, so I should be okay for material. Who knows. For some reason, I was thinking today about curse words. My opinion on them is that they're only offensive because people allow them to be; they choose to take offense to them. I'm not trying to make moral judgements or anything, just trying to analyze the situation. There's nothing inherently offensive in the sounds that make up d**m, s**t, and even f**k and c**t. It's the manner in which they're said and in which they're taken. I could say "You're an idiot" and "You're a f**k-up," but each may or may not offend people depending on how they're said and how they're taken. What's additionally intriguing to me is that the particularly offensive words are not those that deal with religion, like "God d**mit," but they are words for natural acts and body parts, such as "f**k." Why is this? The body is more offensive than taking the Lord's name in vain? Perhaps I ponder curse words because I used to curse like a sailor. I stopped because I had a difficult time controlling it, and I sometimes let it slip out at Christian events, where my language really offended people. It didn't offend most of my friends while we watched football and ate wings. So I decided to stop altogether so I wouldn't make the mistake of offending anyone. I've had fellow Christians crack on me about giving up cursing because of people, not because of God. I guess I never felt conviction about the words offending Him. I didn't take His name in vain, and I felt that was what was important. While throughout the Bible it says not to use offensive words, I felt that this was to respect and love your neighbors and therefore love God. So if my language didn't offend the people I was with, was it wrong? What is foul language anyway? What words are said or how they're meant? Or is it both? "Bloody" is offensive in England but humorous here as an expletive. So is it a bad word to use? I love trying to answer these questions, and my answers change by the minute, even though the answers will most likely not change my behavior. I'm still going to steer clear of cursing. But maybe my perception will widen. Perhaps being an English major who's interested in linguistics has something to do with my desire to discover and re-discover answers.

no subject

irishwings — 2005-06-13T01:06:46-05:00

I'm not typically a fan of my deacon's sermons, but I have enjoyed chewing on his last thought today: Repentence does not cause grace; grace should cause repentence. At first, someone might object, saying that of course grace is bestowed on us when we repent. But I don't think that was the message. The message is that God's grace is already there. We don't make Him have grace--He's the One Who it originates from. And our repentence should be caused by His grace. Because God is so loving, because He is our Father Whose Son died for us selflessly, we should desire to repent. We should fall to our knees, tears in our eyes, at having hurt our heavenly Father. At not loving Him the way He deserves. Praise God that we are broken before Him, yet He makes us whole in Him.

you have forgotten Me

irishwings — 2005-06-14T12:06:32-05:00

"Does a virgin forget her jewelry, a bride her wedding ornaments? Yet My people have forgotten Me days without number." (Jer 2:32) What a powerful verse. I read it before bed one night, and I felt slapped with the truth. I never forget to wear my watch, to do my hair, to take a shower, but how often do I forget God? How often do I forget to read my Bible, to have in-depth prayer, to reflect on Him? How often do I praise myself, lift myself up, totally forgetting God and His hand in things? How could I forget my awesome God days without number? How do any of us forget Him?

decisions....

irishwings — 2005-06-15T12:06:44-05:00

So for the past few weeks, I've been a cashier at Safeway. Not the most thrilling job, or the best paying, or the best hours. But time was running short and I had to take what I could get. And I do like it. I just can't work my second job as often anymore. But here's the thing: I applied at a local huge bio research place as an "automation clerk," pretty much the most boring-sounding job ever. And I called back and called back, and I was finally given a date to wait for to find out whether or not I had a job. It came and went. Now, this research place has called me twice. I haven't figured out all the details, but I can't imagine leaving Safeway after all the work they've done to work out my schedule and fit me in. On the other hand, I could make more money and return to my second job if I work at the bio place. Also, the bio place sounds better on a resume, but I would not be doing exciting work it seems. Why do I feel so loyal to a place I've been working at for 3 weeks as a cashier?

The God-Father

irishwings — 2005-06-19T10:06:46-05:00

Excuse the cheesy title. It's incredible how much more sense God makes when you think of Him as Father Almighty. When we don't understand why something has happened, when we don't understand the way God has answered or seemingly ignored our prayers, we can remember our parents. When we were young, we didn't understand why we couldn't eat candy for dinner. We didn't understand why we couldn't go out to DC with our friends without our parents. We didn't understand curfews or rules or punishments. We believed our parents were there solely to make our lives miserable. As we get older, we understand the rules a little more. Later, we may make the same rules all over again for our kids, even with the same punishments. So it is that we don't always understand God. We must simply trust that He is Almighty (which isn't really so simple.) Sometimes we may see later through mistakes or near-mistakes how very right God was and is. But not always. And sometimes we may understand more as we deepen our spiritual relationship with Him. But not always. Perhaps in Heaven, when we are one with Him, we will understand. But, until then, we'll have to trust that He is God the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth, of all that is seen and unseen. And, unlike our earthly fathers, we can trust Him 100% as our omnescient God.

empty

irishwings — 2005-06-25T12:06:13-05:00

I feel empty of words. Nothing to write. I don't know why. I lead an interesting life. I'm checking groceries all summer, so I see a bunch of different people every day. Next week, I'm volunteering at a Christian camp for disabled teens, which should be an incredible experience. I'm reading, I'm working out. I've even caught up with people I haven't seen or spoken to in 3-4 years. I have a great boyfriend, an always-interesting family, and I'm making new friends at work.

So how could such a wealth of material still leave me so empty and void of anything to ponder? Does the end of school make me stop thinking, stop wondering?

It's like having a nasty, devastating disease for me not to be writing or pondering, especially the latter. I feel like I died. Like I'm living in a soulless body that responds to the world but doesn't think on a metaphysical level. As if I've become a robot, which are one of my phobias actually. I have an acute fear of robots.

So I've become my worst fear. And still it doesn't interest me or make me want to write, think, anything.

the world's greatest teens

irishwings — 2005-07-02T11:07:40-05:00

Wow.

I've spent the past week volunteering at a Christian day camp (Young Life's Capernaum Project) for teens and young adults with special needs. What an incredible experience.

I've been so incredibly blessed to become friends with kids who other people avoid. Those people are missing out so much. These kids offered humor and enthusiasm and quick wit and hearts of gold.

What touched me the most was their perseverance. No matter how much the world may try to categorize them, they push onward as beautiful creations of an awesome God. The kids I worked with never once showed a shred of self-pity.

Stories to come later, after I regain some physical strength.

miro las estrellas

irishwings — 2005-07-03T12:07:17-05:00

In other news, Jupiter was incredible last night. It's pretty awesome tonight, but, last night, I almost pulled over when I was driving.

the story's ending

irishwings — 2005-07-05T01:07:07-05:00

Tonight I saw "The Secret Window" for the first time. I was looking forward to it, being a writer and all. (If you don't want the ending spoiled, read no further.) The thing is, when you hype up a movie about a writer and one of the main lines is that the ending is the most important part of a story, you'd better gosh-darned-well have a great ending. But, soon enough, I smelled the dead, rotting fish named "cliche." As Greenleaf waved to Shooter, who smoked the same cigarettes as Mort, I realized that this was going to be yet another movie about a crazy guy. I hoped and hoped through the whole thing that the ending wouldn't be another cop-out, but every scene confirmed my beliefs more and more. To end a story, movie, or pretty much anything with a sudden shift in point-of-view and then it's revealed that the enemy has always been the protagonist all along, is such an easy, worn road. Sometimes, it is done well, such as in "Fight Club." But in this movie, I knew too soon. I was tipped off instantly. The worst part is that the storyline could have carried itself without the cop-out, cliche ending. To me, the ending felt like, "Hmmm, I don't know what else to do with these characters. Oh! How about it's all inside Mort's head. That would be interesting." I don't know how it would have been pulled off better. Instead, I would have gone a totally different route for an ending. Oh well. Steven King's writing, whether in book or movie form, tends to let me down. There's always something fishy about it, something lacking, something not solid. Then again, I didn't read his earlier books or see his earlier movies. I don't really agree that the ending is the most important part of the story. It may be the final destination, but it's the experience of getting there that counts. Otherwise, storylines would be seconds long.

He Understands, and yet He Loves

irishwings — 2005-07-14T12:07:17-05:00

"In one of his last statements before dying, Jesus prayed, 'Father, forgive them'--all of them, the Roman soldiers, the religious leaders, his disciples who had fled in darkness, you, me, who have denied him in so many ways--'forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.' Only by becoming a human being could the Son of God truly say with understanding, 'They do not know what they are doing.' He had lived among us. Now, he understood." --Philip Yancey, The Jesus Never Knew

I haven't been writing for quite some time. I don't know why, really. But knowing I have a God Who has felt what I feel, Who understands me fully, and Who still loves me despite all that He knows makes me want to shout from the rooftops.

I can't imagine how I would have any sanity if it weren't for my faith in the Lord. Past guilt would just stew in my heart, eating at me like a disease, holding me back from moving on with my life. I'd wake up in the morning and wonder why I was even here, scanning groceries six days a week, memorizing facts for school to regurgitate them for tests. I'd know that anyone who loved me didn't even know me well enough, or they'd hate me because, deep down, I hold cruelty, selfishness, greed. I'd know that no one would ever know how I was feeling or what I was going through.

Even if I did believe in a diety, I'd know I'd be destined for some kind of hell-like place. There's no way I live up to any expectations. I'd know I was separated, worthless, just another little human scum down here.

But God showed His love by becoming one of us little human scum. And He showed us who we can be, how the children He created were always intended to be before we gave in to sin.

And yet, He still loves us. We still give in to sin, we don't reach perfection, but He loves us eternally. He's been here. He knows how we feel. He knows our every thought and every pang in our heart. He knows it all, and loves us.

twinkling backyard

irishwings — 2005-07-14T10:07:07-05:00

You know how when you're driving in the snow, the falling snow looks kind of like you're flying in the original Star Wars movies? Well, today, I got a different experience--driving down a little windy dirt road surrounded by lightning bugs (or fireflies, depending on your dialect). They had a similar effect as the stars whooshing by in Star Wars, but more subtle, more asthetic.

Looking across the backyard of my family's house, lightning bugs twinkle everywhere. Like a reflection of the star-lit sky above, only put into rapid motion.

More spectacular than any Christmastree lights, than any fireworks, than any light show.

I wonder if they know we're watching them?

in everything

irishwings — 2005-07-17T12:07:42-05:00

Trying to force myself to write everyday so, eventually, something interesting may squeak out.

I really enjoy working at a grocery store. I see a bazillion customers a day, and they're all pretty interesting. Lots of character ideas running through my head.

The summer always makes me appreciate week-long vacations. During the summer, I hardly see my friends, and I never seem to be able to get anything done. I feel so unproductive when I'm not in classes. Good thing I'm going to be teaching and probably taking classes for the rest of my life. I wouldn't mind several masters degrees and getting my phd. Actually, that's totally incorrect that I wouldn't mind it, it's really something I thirst for.

I guess I just want to know everything, do everything, have my hands in everything.

But I guess the groceries of a small country town will have to be what I have my hands in for the next month-and-a-half.

clumsy

irishwings — 2005-07-17T09:07:00-05:00

So, when I was at the grocery store today scanning groceries, two ladies came through with an overflowing cart, and soon the conveyer belt was overflowing. Now, anyone who has been a cashier at a grocery store knows that a conveyer belt is no easy ride. It crushes eggs, eats eggplants, and knocks down every single liter of soda that comes through. No survivors. So, when groceries are piled onto the belt, things get extra dangerous.

I had just started work, and I was almost through this order when a huge canister of something cold--sour cream perhaps--rolled off the covery belt, onto the counter, and finally landed with a SPLAT on my shoe. It exploded. By the smell, I could tell that it was not sour cream, it was the biggest canister of yogurt on the planet.

I stared at my feet for a few seconds, thinking that maybe, if I stayed still enough, I'd realize that it didn't really happen. But it did. Yogurt splatted up to my knees, all over my pants and shoes, all over the floor and pretty much anything in a three-foot radius.

So I've smelled like yogurt all day, with it progressively turning bad. My pants were soaked, and as much as I tried to clean them up, fifteen minute breaks don't give you much.

It could be worse, though.
A. It could have been my fault, with me dropping it on myself.
B. I could have dropped it on someone else.
C. It could have been bleach.

Ah well, I can't believe that, for once, an clumsy incident is not really my fault!

Remember the time we got pulled over on a short bus in Bulgaria??

irishwings — 2005-07-19T12:07:32-05:00

It's crazy how insanely popular scrapbooking is. I went to the craft store for just a simple kit, and, low and behold, an entire section of the store is devoted to scrapbooking! And, I will admit, it is a bit addictive. Since I've had pictures from going to Greece last summer just sitting around, getting beat up from showing them off so much, I decided to go through them finally and throw together a scrapbook. And I could do this all day, mainly for two reasons. 1. I love art, and this gives me an excuse to create it. 2. Going through my pictures, brochures, tickets, and other little "scraps" from my trip has been an awesome journey back to the country, to the people, to the experiences. No wonder it's so addictive! Although it's a bit expensive to pull off, I think this project is going to be a success. I will stop worrying about the well-being of my pictures, and they actually look 1000 times better after being cropped, matted, etc. I don't know why I ever doubted that fine-tuning them would make them look better. It's also, of course, given me a desire to return. I only spent two weeks there, but it was an adventure with people I had never met, in a country whose language I didn't know, doing work I didn't feel prepared for at all. Frightening yet thrilling, and my favorite kind of experience, and one that I am finding myself being thrown into more and more as I get closer to God. (And, yes, the title is correct, we were pulled over on a short bus in Bulgaria on our way home to the States.)

rock experience

irishwings — 2005-07-19T10:07:57-05:00

System of a Down's newest album is fabulous. The way the beats change mid-song, styles jerk back and forth, guitar rocking out no matter what, lyrics thought-provoking--it's really an experience. Looking at their lyrics is like looking at a poem, and the music adds an entire new dimension to it. If I was a musician and lyricist, that album is what I'd want to take credit for.

reaching

irishwings — 2005-07-20T11:07:12-05:00

Every night, I love to go outside and gaze at the moon and stars. I feel like I could reach out and touch the moon, wiggle my toes in the dust covering it, hide out in a crater. Another world, yet in such close reach of us. Incredible.

visitor

irishwings — 2005-07-21T10:07:45-05:00

Today, I was scanning groceries as usual. I told my customer to have a nice day, and robotically (since I was working the express lane) looked to the next one and asked them how they were doing. He looked up and just smiled and nodded. He was an older man, and looking at his face, he was my grandfather for just a moment. A little taller, a lot less heavy, a little younger. But the eyes and the face--Granddad through and through.

I've always felt cheated in the gradnparents department. I have my Nana, who I am totally blessed with, but my Grandma died when I was 18 months old, her husband, my Grandpa, died when I was eight or so, and my Granddad, my Nana's ex-husband, has lived in Arizona for most of my life. I see him occasionally, but I still don't feel like I know him.

So, seeing this man in the grocery store, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have the traditional two sets of grandparents. In fact, I have no memory of having a married set of grandparents. What would my life be like? Would I feel different inside? Would some gaping hole I don't notice be overflowing with a special kind of love.

Or, I wondered, what if it's God's way of saying, "Here's how Granddad would act if he was here, right now. Here he is, just for a moment, since you miss him so much."

I scanned his groceries, told him to have a great day, and he smiled and nodded again.

I started to cry at my register.

no subject

irishwings — 2005-07-22T10:07:45-05:00

Nothing to write. Sensoring myself too much.

Strange Cigars

irishwings — 2005-07-28T02:07:52-05:00

This morning, my dad went out to the van to drive to work, like always. We live in a quiet neighborhood, and my family never ever locks their car doors. (I always do though, I don't care how far in the country we are.)

So my dad opens the (unlocked) van door, and, low and behold, he finds two neatly-placed unlabeled cigars on the front seat. None of us smoke cigars, except for my brothers' and my friends sometimes, but they have never ridden in our van.

My dad searched the car, but nothing was stolen.

Weird, huh?

no subject

irishwings — 2005-08-07T01:08:52-05:00

Just got back from the beach. Also an emotional wreck. Nothing to write...the pain is blocking the words.

What is Love?

irishwings — 2005-08-07T02:08:39-05:00

This is what's been getting me through this time: Since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through Whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the HOPE of the glory of God. Not only so, but we rejoice in our SUFFERINGS, because we know that SUFFERING produces PERSEVERANCE; PERSEVERANCE, CHARACTER; and CHARACTER, HOPE. And HOPE does not disappoint us, because God had poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, Whom He has given us. You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the UNGODLY. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: Which we were still SINNERS, CHRIST DIED FOR US! --Romans 5:1-8 (with added emphasis)

Purple Mountains Majesty

irishwings — 2005-08-11T12:08:14-05:00

The sun was a gleaming orange, low and close to the mountains, making them a deep shade of indigo. Every hill my car climbed would open up to fields of crops, amber and green, rippling in the breeze like pools of water. Whenever I drive to and from work on these back country roads, I know what "America the Beautiful" was inspired by.

I wanted my car to disappear from around me, to be flying over this land myself. I wanted this two-lane highway to fade into nothing but a scribble of dirt road, barely worn, footprints still visible. I wanted all the road signs and houses to be lifted away so not to detract from God's creation. I wanted to feel the sun on my skin, the wind kissing my cheek, to be able to see infront and behind and beside me all at once and in perfect vision.

And for a moment, windows down, grin across my face, it happened.

Safeway Disaster of the Week

irishwings — 2005-08-14T12:08:49-05:00

Safeway Disaster of the Week:

I work as a checker at Safeway, and I seem to significantly injure myself or groceries at least once a week. So here's this week's fiasco.

My shift was almost over, and I couldn't wait to get home. While I was checking a large order, a large block of ice in a plastic bag came up on the conveyer belt. I thought it was interesting, since I had never seen a block of ice at our store before. But it had a barcode on it, so I grasped the bagged block of ice to scan it.

My hand felt like it caught fire.

I dropped the block of ice onto the counter, and I felt like I had a serious burn on my hand. "Oh," said my customer, "that's DRY ICE."

I couldn't move my fingers, and tears welled up in my eyes. If anyone's been "burned" aka frozen by nitrogen before, you know what it feels like. I have a scar on my stomach from a previous incident.

Unfortunately, I was no where near the end of the order, so I sucked it up and kept checking, chocking back tears.

The skin on my fingers still feels like it's dead, five hours later.

Reaching

irishwings — 2005-08-16T02:08:29-05:00

Last night, I was watching a program about the structure of our planet, and scientists say they detect enormous mountain ranges in our mantle, so enormous, in fact, that Mt. Everest is barely a pixel compared to them on a computer screen. The scientists said that they're not sure what the function of these mountains could be or even how they came about. Still fascinating.

In addition to that interesting bit of information, the program explained how the core of our planet creates a magnetic field that protects us from our flaring sun.

I love to learn all the little things about our planet that make our life possible. I took an extraterrestrials seminar a year ago, which sounds hokey, but I actually learned quite a bit from it. While watching this program about our own planet, it got me thinking back to what I learned about other celestial bodies in our solar system. And while I think all the conditions on earth that have made human life possible are fascinating, I firmly believe that life is abundant in the universe.

no subject

irishwings — 2005-08-18T01:08:35-05:00

Still broken, despite what anyone may think. I wish I could control the way I feel, protect the people I love from everything--especially from me.

no subject

irishwings — 2005-08-29T04:08:23-05:00

Wow, I've been out for awhile. I moved into school a week ago, and I'm waiting on getting the internet. For now, it's the computer lab for me.

I've never realized how loyal and awesome my friends are. Through the things that have gone on at the end of this summer, my friends have not abandoned me when they easily could have.

Well that's it for now. I don't feel like I can write well in the computer lab environment.

There is an End

irishwings — 2005-09-01T04:09:35-05:00

This year, I'm living off-campus, and one of my housemates has a dog. Sitting here, next to the dog, brings me back to when I was younger, less busy, sitting outside for hours at a time just to be close to nature.

I don't think I could live in the city. Someday, I want a yard with trees, where animals live, so my kids can go outside like I did, playing with caterpillars and watching squirrels, spotting foxes and deer on the hillside, knowing that each of us part of their lives and they're part of each of ours.

We try to separate ourselves from the rest of nature, staying in our sanitary dwellings, keeping out all the creatures we can see with the naked eye. It disgusts most people to know the multitude of microscopic organisms they cohabitate with. But why? It's not anything new--it's always been this way.

Sometimes I feel like we've gotten this world all wrong. God gave us the Garden of Eden, but we weren't satisfied, we had to eat that apple, and we chopped the garden to bits to erect office buildings, apartment complexes, nothing more than tiny cubicles to live and work in. We finished it off with a statue of ourselves, so we can worship the great race of mankind, yet not even that statue brings us any immortality.

no subject

irishwings — 2005-09-15T04:09:38-05:00

Whoops! Another long span of no writing for me.

Well, I think I'm finally settled in at school, at least until I start student teaching in October. I just finished writing the first chapter of a novel for my advanced fiction writing class, and I'm trying to stay afloat in all my other classes.

As always, I'm hoping to write more often. It's especially difficult not having constant internet access in my apartment. But, with a little discipline, I should get on the ball here.

always behind perfection

irishwings — 2005-09-16T05:09:43-05:00

I wish I was hang-gliding.

I've never been, but I imagine it would be amazing. Feeling the air rushing against my body as I do everything I can just to be more like the birds, more like the animals whose wings we clip and whom we keep encaged.

It's funny how we always reach for playing God. Trying to master gravity through technology, trying to keep animals alive in our own homes. Even if we have pets as simple as fish, it's often a bigger hassle to keep their water balanced enough for them than it is to keep ourselves alive.

But He created everything the way it should be. The fish survive in the ocean just fine without worries of pH...except for when we're the ones who caused the imbalance. And as awesome as it is that we can get past gravity, sending huge machinary through the air and even to the moon, we're always behind perfection.

tired of being locked up

irishwings — 2005-09-17T08:09:55-05:00

Tonight, a random messed-up dude (drunk/high/both) wandered into our apartment, talking about how he was jumped by some dudes and wants to blow up their houses. Normally, this wouldn't seem so odd to me, except that it was 8:30 in the evening.

I'm glad my housemate's boyfriend was here and could calm the guy down because this guy was fairly aggressive. If it had just been me here, it might have been a much worse situation.

It saddens me to think that we have to start locking our doors at 8 in the evening even when we're home.

no subject

irishwings — 2005-09-20T04:09:32-05:00

I'm not sure what's happened, but I've finally transitioned from being melancholy about leaving school in May to being excited. Perhaps it's because I'm living off campus, or maybe it's because I am feeling more ready to teach. Either way, I'm glad I have until May to still be here with all my friends, but I think I'll be ready when the time comes.

I love looking to the future and seeing many vague paths. It's a new feeling for me actually, since I've had my life planned ahead of me for a long time. But, since things have changed over the past few months, I don't know where I'm going, except for teaching in my home state for a number of years to pay back scholarships with service.

Well, that's it for now because I've got work. I was hoping to write more...maybe tomorrow...

no subject

irishwings — 2005-09-29T04:09:37-05:00

Yeah, so I'm at work right now, but our boss isn't here. So all chaos has broken out. We've decided to spread the rumor that our boss is out because she's on trial for murder.

As for the progress on my novel, my professor told me today that Chapter One is of publishable quality, and I should keep writing. So I'm psyched.

It's a beautiful day, like paradise. Blue skies, puffy white clouds, leaves changing and skittering across the ground in the breeze. (Too bad I'm on crutches. And inside at work until 6:00. Ugh.)

no subject

irishwings — 2005-10-06T05:10:20-05:00

Well, I have now officially started my teaching internship! My schedule blows...royally. But I love kids! (They're eighth-graders.)

The Lifeblood Behind Them

irishwings — 2005-11-08T04:11:29-05:00

Someone recently asked me why I want to get my MFA in creative writing. It's not something practical, I was told, not something that would benefit other people. I responded that literature is important, which was met with laughter.

If no one wrote, what would we remember civilizations by? How would be know about their culture, what people felt, what they went through? What would I have done throughout middle school when characters in novels were real enough to me that I felt like I had friends who understood what I was feeling. They experienced the same things, different things, harder situations, more exciting situations. What would I have done all those years instead? Connected with characters on a television screen while my literacy plummetted?

I have been told before that I am wasting my time studying literature. It's not real, people say, you're studying lies that someone could illustrate vividly. But is it really lies? The emotions aren't lies. Somebody somewhere can identify with each piece, I'm sure. And how else would I know how to read and write, to communicate well with the world, without years of reading and writing?

By the same token, what would be the worth of any art? Or philosophy?

Perhaps the effects on humanity are not instant in the world of the arts. But what is life without taking the time to imagine, to create, to think, to ponder, to wander around in a whole other world for just a little while? We're not automatons; we're not meant to work night and day doing tedious things to push humanity into the technological future. Those occupations have their place, but the arts are the lifeblood behind them.

I still hold that literature is important, and it is not a waste of time for me to learn more about the art I excel most at. Through a young adult novel, I could reach out to teens in a totally different way than I will by teaching. And, by writing, I will keep my sanity.

THNIK

irishwings — 2005-11-10T05:11:30-05:00

After student teaching in public schools for several weeks, I've become even more disillusioned by "teaching to the test."

Before even delving into testing, let's talk about standards. It's good to have standards...when they're reachable. To expect every 12th grader to read 25 books outside of class is lunacy. And it's nice to have a list of literature to choose from...when you can still add your own. These are not guidelines: they are restrictions. If I think a particular short story will work well with a unit, I'm not encouraged, as a public school teacher, to use it unless it's on that microscopic list of material. There's little chance to be creative or spontaneous.

As for testing, the higher-ups think it's an effective monitoring and evaluating tool, but teachers know that it's not. Importance of material is measured by whether or not it will be on the test, not how it will develop the minds of students. The end goal of education is now to regurgiate information to the satifaction of the Board of Ed, not to learn for learning's sake.

In fact, learning itself has been redefined--developing the ability to know facts rather than to developing the ability to think. Education has become a thing of the brain, not a thing of the mind.

Unfortunately, I often feel the same way about college. Sometimes I wonder if I've ever actually learned anything in my four years here. Instead, I feel like I've bought my degree, not worked my way toward it. The real learning I've done has been from conversations I've had in dorm hallways and in faculty lounges.

I swear I remember school being different...I used to think...in one of my classes...years ago...