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Monday, May 31, 2010

she's really gone off the deep end

Today, I realized I'm stuck.  I'm caught in the present, longing for the past and wishing for the future.  How do I do this, you ask?  I don't know.  I have many talents, procrastination, thinking too much (not well, but just too much), laughing or singing at inappropriate times.  Apparently this schizophrenic limbo game I've been playing the past couple of days is something I can tack on to my list.  Yippee!

I've spent the better part of the last couple of days at the pool.  Spitting distance away from my house.  Grab a book, a Betty Boop towel, some goggles, iPod and a good book, and voila.  Perfection.

I usually go later in the evenings, but today I spent all afternoon there.  Much different crowd.  There were little girls in their floatees, little boys begging their moms to buy nachos at the snack shack.  There were cannon-ballers, and men-much-to-big-for-their-speedo-ers, and all kinds of other crazies.

Let's just say, the freaks don't wait to come out at night in Mechanicsville, Virginia.

I was kind of floating around (it's amazing how graceful you can pretend to be in the water.  I should mention that falling is another talent on my list), during adult swim (by the way, a totally anticlimactic phenomenon - you wait your whole life to be old enough to be considered an "adult" so you can swim with the big fishes, then when you're finally old enough, it's so last year.  Wow, I've taken a lot of segways today, I think the sun was baking my brain and disabling my judgment/writing capabilities.  I'm back).

So anyway, it was adult swim and I noticed this precious baby girl being thrown up into the air by her (assumption) father.  The look on her face was pure joy.  My dad looked at me and said, "I used to have little girls that I could throw up in the air like that."

Aw.  Those were the days.  I don't really remember them, duh, but if I had half as much fun as that little girl was having, it must've been great.  Then I found myself wanting a little girl to throw up in the air.  That came out weird, but you know what I mean.  I hope.

It was just a weird feeling.  Like Derek Webb says, "Between dreaming and coming true."  I think that's where I am.  Right smack dab in the middle of it all.  I've had twenty-one years of dreaming.  They've been great.  They've held so many captivating possibilities for me.  Now, I'm on the brink of coming true.  It's exciting.

I'm ready to take a dive.

Unrelated, here is my favorite scene from Shallow Hal.


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she's really gone off the deep end

Today, I realized I'm stuck.  I'm caught in the present, longing for the past and wishing for the future.  How do I do this, you ask?  I don't know.  I have many talents, procrastination, thinking too much (not well, but just too much), laughing or singing at inappropriate times.  Apparently this schizophrenic limbo game I've been playing the past couple of days is something I can tack on to my list.  Yippee!

I've spent the better part of the last couple of days at the pool.  Spitting distance away from my house.  Grab a book, a Betty Boop towel, some goggles, iPod and a good book, and voila.  Perfection.

I usually go later in the evenings, but today I spent all afternoon there.  Much different crowd.  There were little girls in their floatees, little boys begging their moms to buy nachos at the snack shack.  There were cannon-ballers, and men-much-to-big-for-their-speedo-ers, and all kinds of other crazies.

Let's just say, the freaks don't wait to come out at night in Mechanicsville, Virginia.

I was kind of floating around (it's amazing how graceful you can pretend to be in the water.  I should mention that falling is another talent on my list), during adult swim (by the way, a totally anticlimactic phenomenon - you wait your whole life to be old enough to be considered an "adult" so you can swim with the big fishes, then when you're finally old enough, it's so last year.  Wow, I've taken a lot of segways today, I think the sun was baking my brain and disabling my judgment/writing capabilities.  I'm back).

So anyway, it was adult swim and I noticed this precious baby girl being thrown up into the air by her (assumption) father.  The look on her face was pure joy.  My dad looked at me and said, "I used to have little girls that I could throw up in the air like that."

Aw.  Those were the days.  I don't really remember them, duh, but if I had half as much fun as that little girl was having, it must've been great.  Then I found myself wanting a little girl to throw up in the air.  That came out weird, but you know what I mean.  I hope.

It was just a weird feeling.  Like Derek Webb says, "Between dreaming and coming true."  I think that's where I am.  Right smack dab in the middle of it all.  I've had twenty-one years of dreaming.  They've been great.  They've held so many captivating possibilities for me.  Now, I'm on the brink of coming true.  It's exciting.

I'm ready to take a dive.

Unrelated, here is my favorite scene from Shallow Hal.


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Friday, May 28, 2010

the case of the unidentified graduation card

There was a little blue envelope in the mail today.  Addressed to me.  First inclination, "OOOOOooooh!  Goody!  Graduation gift!"

Well.  It was a card.  A graduation card.  Telling me to, "Soak in the moments after your graduation."  Something like that.

Signed, "Jim."

Yup.  Simply, "Jim."

No return address.

Postmarked in Richmond.

I don't know any Jims.  Besides my uncle, of course.  Who lives in Texas.  And he definitely would have the sense to put his last name on the card, and have the rest of the family sign it as well.

That theory fell through.

Um...so, thanks Jim.  Whoever you are.  Thanks for the nice card.  It was very sweet of you.

But...

WHO ARE YOU?!

And, you know, I feel a little guilty about not knowing who this elusive "Jim" character is.  Really guilty, actually.  Like I have some sort of anonymous friend, who knows me well enough to send me a card, but not well enough to neglect to sign his last name.

Any information you all have of this current Mechanicsvillian mystification would be greatly appreciated.  Thank you.
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the case of the unidentified graduation card

There was a little blue envelope in the mail today.  Addressed to me.  First inclination, "OOOOOooooh!  Goody!  Graduation gift!"

Well.  It was a card.  A graduation card.  Telling me to, "Soak in the moments after your graduation."  Something like that.

Signed, "Jim."

Yup.  Simply, "Jim."

No return address.

Postmarked in Richmond.

I don't know any Jims.  Besides my uncle, of course.  Who lives in Texas.  And he definitely would have the sense to put his last name on the card, and have the rest of the family sign it as well.

That theory fell through.

Um...so, thanks Jim.  Whoever you are.  Thanks for the nice card.  It was very sweet of you.

But...

WHO ARE YOU?!

And, you know, I feel a little guilty about not knowing who this elusive "Jim" character is.  Really guilty, actually.  Like I have some sort of anonymous friend, who knows me well enough to send me a card, but not well enough to neglect to sign his last name.

Any information you all have of this current Mechanicsvillian mystification would be greatly appreciated.  Thank you.
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Thursday, May 27, 2010

rain or shine


"Do they still really have prizes in Cracker Jack boxes?"
"Oh, yes."
"That's nice to know... It gives one a feeling of solidarity, almost of continuity with the past, that sort of thing."

-Tiffany's Salesman and Paul Varjack, Breakfast at Tiffany's

This morning when I pulled out of my driveway I noticed a lot of bright pink tassels hanging out all of the neighbor's newspaper boxes.  Curiosity, as you all well may know by now, usually gets the better of me.  I can't stand not knowing things.  So, I put my red Toyota (endearingly named Georgia, in honor of Gone With the Wind) in park, and peeked into my own newspaper box.  It was a Salvation Army bag.  On it was stapled a note that read, "We will come to pick up your donation Thursday, May 27. RAIN OR SHINE."

Rain or shine.

For someone who has a hard time keeping promises, and not procrastinating, it's refreshing to know that there are some people, some things that you can really depend on.  Like the good old Salvation Army.

It's nice to have definites in this world.  Like the prizes in Cracker Jack boxes.  I remember as a kid, going to the Richmond Braves baseball games (before the Richmond Flying Squirrels took over), digging my hand and wiggling my fingers at the bottom of the boxes to find the inevitably sticky prizes.  Granted the prizes are totally lame now,  temporary tattoos.  Always temporary tattoos.  Usually of Cracker Jack himself.  Not even half as nice as something your almost-lover would have engraved at Tiffany's for a cheap, quasi-engagement ring that is sure to turn your finger green, but the times are changing, I guess.

All Cracker Jack and Breakfast at Tiffany's conversation aside, wouldn't it be nice if joy was the same way?  Would it be nice if despite circumstances in your life, or the turmoil in your heart, or your particular mood, you could still have joy? 

Rain or shine.

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rain or shine


"Do they still really have prizes in Cracker Jack boxes?"
"Oh, yes."
"That's nice to know... It gives one a feeling of solidarity, almost of continuity with the past, that sort of thing."

-Tiffany's Salesman and Paul Varjack, Breakfast at Tiffany's

This morning when I pulled out of my driveway I noticed a lot of bright pink tassels hanging out all of the neighbor's newspaper boxes.  Curiosity, as you all well may know by now, usually gets the better of me.  I can't stand not knowing things.  So, I put my red Toyota (endearingly named Georgia, in honor of Gone With the Wind) in park, and peeked into my own newspaper box.  It was a Salvation Army bag.  On it was stapled a note that read, "We will come to pick up your donation Thursday, May 27. RAIN OR SHINE."

Rain or shine.

For someone who has a hard time keeping promises, and not procrastinating, it's refreshing to know that there are some people, some things that you can really depend on.  Like the good old Salvation Army.

It's nice to have definites in this world.  Like the prizes in Cracker Jack boxes.  I remember as a kid, going to the Richmond Braves baseball games (before the Richmond Flying Squirrels took over), digging my hand and wiggling my fingers at the bottom of the boxes to find the inevitably sticky prizes.  Granted the prizes are totally lame now,  temporary tattoos.  Always temporary tattoos.  Usually of Cracker Jack himself.  Not even half as nice as something your almost-lover would have engraved at Tiffany's for a cheap, quasi-engagement ring that is sure to turn your finger green, but the times are changing, I guess.

All Cracker Jack and Breakfast at Tiffany's conversation aside, wouldn't it be nice if joy was the same way?  Would it be nice if despite circumstances in your life, or the turmoil in your heart, or your particular mood, you could still have joy? 

Rain or shine.

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Sunday, May 23, 2010

single sentence sunday

(Hi, it's me.  I'm cheating again.  It's been an incredibly involved first week of interning, I will most definitely explain later...stay tuned! But for now...)

"This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."
-Psalm  118:24


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single sentence sunday

(Hi, it's me.  I'm cheating again.  It's been an incredibly involved first week of interning, I will most definitely explain later...stay tuned! But for now...)

"This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."
-Psalm  118:24


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Wednesday, May 19, 2010

my kid brother

"For a school to be a positive learning environment, it is up to he students to make the right decisions.  This is why the Golden Knight Award exists...It takes community involvement and school pride to achieve this award."
-Scotty Wilson's submission to his middle school's highest honor

Prepare yourself for the understatement of the year: I am unyieldingly proud of this little guy.

It took him thirteen years to surpass me in height, and judging from his heart-twisting essay, it probably won't be long before  he surpasses me in everything else.  What a remarkable kid.

Every afternoon, it seemed, he was wrestling with schoolwork.  I'd find him sitting at the kitchen table  with my mom every day when  I'd get off the bus.  He'd be snapping yellow pencils in half, or angrily ripping out the erasers with his teeth.  My mom would lovingly explain the problem to him, again and again.
She would explain, always just once more, with a smile and a sip of her ginger tea. That delicate patience is not something I have yet inherited.  It is an exotic fruit of the spirit that grows on our family tree.  It is waiting for my nimble fingers to pluck it off the branch.  Perhaps if and when I'm a mother I'll experience it.

Because patience is what he needed. She wouldn't give up, because the next time could be the first time he understood useless things.  Tiresome things like a+b=c.  These things destroyed his "self-esteem" everyone seems so concerned with nowadays.  These dumb letters, the stupid equations would get under his skin.

Yes, I've seen him struggle.  But lately, I've seen him thrive.  I've watched as he read book after book, leaving traces of his soul behind him.  I've watched him serve the homeless.  I've flown past him as he gently held the door open for me.  A boy scout, without the corny implications (or the corny three-fingered promise).

Now he has his very own suit.  A wristwatch.  An obsession with Sherlock Holmes, Indiana Jones and James Bond.  He is going to the Dominican Republic.  He isn't afraid to challenge himself.  He isn't afraid and he doesn't allow himself to get discouraged when he can't do something on his first try.

This is where he surpasses me in more than just height.

And if you could have seen him beaming up the driveway after he was told he was nominated for this award, well, it would have brought you to your knees with conviction.  It would have you believing in miracles.

I hope he gets it.  He deserves it.  For working three, four times as hard as "normal" kids, and for succeeding.  For not being lazy with his studies, and for being the most earnest and hard-working individual I know.

He would be so embarrassed if he every stumbled upon this blog.  He'd be humiliated.  His face would turn as red as a hot coal, condensation collecting on his forehead, just like his oldest sister's does.  We Wilson display our emotions, unintentionally.  It's one of those things from my family I have inherited.

So, don't say anything to him.  But, Scotty, if you ever read this, know that your big sis is so blessed by you and all you have done.  Way to go!
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my kid brother

"For a school to be a positive learning environment, it is up to he students to make the right decisions.  This is why the Golden Knight Award exists...It takes community involvement and school pride to achieve this award."
-Scotty Wilson's submission to his middle school's highest honor

Prepare yourself for the understatement of the year: I am unyieldingly proud of this little guy.

It took him thirteen years to surpass me in height, and judging from his heart-twisting essay, it probably won't be long before  he surpasses me in everything else.  What a remarkable kid.

Every afternoon, it seemed, he was wrestling with schoolwork.  I'd find him sitting at the kitchen table  with my mom every day when  I'd get off the bus.  He'd be snapping yellow pencils in half, or angrily ripping out the erasers with his teeth.  My mom would lovingly explain the problem to him, again and again.
She would explain, always just once more, with a smile and a sip of her ginger tea. That delicate patience is not something I have yet inherited.  It is an exotic fruit of the spirit that grows on our family tree.  It is waiting for my nimble fingers to pluck it off the branch.  Perhaps if and when I'm a mother I'll experience it.

Because patience is what he needed. She wouldn't give up, because the next time could be the first time he understood useless things.  Tiresome things like a+b=c.  These things destroyed his "self-esteem" everyone seems so concerned with nowadays.  These dumb letters, the stupid equations would get under his skin.

Yes, I've seen him struggle.  But lately, I've seen him thrive.  I've watched as he read book after book, leaving traces of his soul behind him.  I've watched him serve the homeless.  I've flown past him as he gently held the door open for me.  A boy scout, without the corny implications (or the corny three-fingered promise).

Now he has his very own suit.  A wristwatch.  An obsession with Sherlock Holmes, Indiana Jones and James Bond.  He is going to the Dominican Republic.  He isn't afraid to challenge himself.  He isn't afraid and he doesn't allow himself to get discouraged when he can't do something on his first try.

This is where he surpasses me in more than just height.

And if you could have seen him beaming up the driveway after he was told he was nominated for this award, well, it would have brought you to your knees with conviction.  It would have you believing in miracles.

I hope he gets it.  He deserves it.  For working three, four times as hard as "normal" kids, and for succeeding.  For not being lazy with his studies, and for being the most earnest and hard-working individual I know.

He would be so embarrassed if he every stumbled upon this blog.  He'd be humiliated.  His face would turn as red as a hot coal, condensation collecting on his forehead, just like his oldest sister's does.  We Wilson display our emotions, unintentionally.  It's one of those things from my family I have inherited.

So, don't say anything to him.  But, Scotty, if you ever read this, know that your big sis is so blessed by you and all you have done.  Way to go!
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Tuesday, May 18, 2010

uncertain certainties

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." 
-Hebrews 11:1

On my way to the youth office this morning, I passed a woman in her car with a license plate that read, "LIFESKS."  It seems like Virginia has the highest percentage of drivers with vanity plates.  I've seen some pretty clever ones, but this one, well, sucked.  Aren't morning commutes tough enough without being reminded that life sucks?

I wanted to shout some encouragement to the driver as I passed her on her left, but I decided that it would be a bad idea to shout at someone with a license so negative.  Probably should keep my eyes on the road.

I wanted to tell her that life doesn't suck.  It just doesn't.  What I'm discovering about life as a green girl, fresh out of college is that in life, you need to be certain in the uncertainties.  For instance, every day, I wake up and drive to St. Giles Presbyterian Church.  Though, the thirty minute commute is no mystery to me (I've been going there since I was eight), until recently I always knew what to expect when I arrived.  I had youth group, or church, or Sunday School.

Now, however, when I pull into the parking lot, I have absolutely no idea what's in store for me.  Will I be dressing up as a giant chipmunk (Why? Because the costume shop was out of squirrels, of course!)?  Will I be attending a staff meeting in which we discuss condoms (due to recent vandalism in the church parking lot)?  Will I go to Home Depot and watch as my youth pastor swipe one-hundred bathroom tiles individually through the self check-out line (the machine lady said, "Sixteen cents, sixteen cents, sixteen cents, sixteen cents" over and over each time he swiped).

I do know that each day at the office will at one point or another leave me crumpled on the floor in a painful fit of giggles, with tears streaming down my joyful face.  That's about the only thing I can be completely sure about.

What I'm discovering about my life that does anything but suck, is that it is full of uncertainties.  This is the one thing I am certain of.

And isn't faith the same way?  Haven't we been told that faith is certainty in the unseen?  I am not always certain of how God is going to use my gifts for His glory (as evidenced in my last few posts), but I am certainly certain of His presence, His working, His movement in my life.

I just wish other people in my life could recognize that.  And I wish that lady with the sucky license plate could recognize that.  Life is exciting.  Life with faith is even better.

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uncertain certainties

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." 
-Hebrews 11:1

On my way to the youth office this morning, I passed a woman in her car with a license plate that read, "LIFESKS."  It seems like Virginia has the highest percentage of drivers with vanity plates.  I've seen some pretty clever ones, but this one, well, sucked.  Aren't morning commutes tough enough without being reminded that life sucks?

I wanted to shout some encouragement to the driver as I passed her on her left, but I decided that it would be a bad idea to shout at someone with a license so negative.  Probably should keep my eyes on the road.

I wanted to tell her that life doesn't suck.  It just doesn't.  What I'm discovering about life as a green girl, fresh out of college is that in life, you need to be certain in the uncertainties.  For instance, every day, I wake up and drive to St. Giles Presbyterian Church.  Though, the thirty minute commute is no mystery to me (I've been going there since I was eight), until recently I always knew what to expect when I arrived.  I had youth group, or church, or Sunday School.

Now, however, when I pull into the parking lot, I have absolutely no idea what's in store for me.  Will I be dressing up as a giant chipmunk (Why? Because the costume shop was out of squirrels, of course!)?  Will I be attending a staff meeting in which we discuss condoms (due to recent vandalism in the church parking lot)?  Will I go to Home Depot and watch as my youth pastor swipe one-hundred bathroom tiles individually through the self check-out line (the machine lady said, "Sixteen cents, sixteen cents, sixteen cents, sixteen cents" over and over each time he swiped).

I do know that each day at the office will at one point or another leave me crumpled on the floor in a painful fit of giggles, with tears streaming down my joyful face.  That's about the only thing I can be completely sure about.

What I'm discovering about my life that does anything but suck, is that it is full of uncertainties.  This is the one thing I am certain of.

And isn't faith the same way?  Haven't we been told that faith is certainty in the unseen?  I am not always certain of how God is going to use my gifts for His glory (as evidenced in my last few posts), but I am certainly certain of His presence, His working, His movement in my life.

I just wish other people in my life could recognize that.  And I wish that lady with the sucky license plate could recognize that.  Life is exciting.  Life with faith is even better.

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Sunday, May 16, 2010

single sentence sunday


I know I'm cheating, but it's remarkable to me how a single sentence can evoke such emotion.  I pray that my words can live up to this phenomenon one day.

"Jo never, never would learn to be proper; for when he said that as they stood upon the steps, she just put both hands into his, whispering tenderly, 'Not empty now,' and, stooping down, kissed her Friedrich under the umbrella."
-Little Women 



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single sentence sunday


I know I'm cheating, but it's remarkable to me how a single sentence can evoke such emotion.  I pray that my words can live up to this phenomenon one day.

"Jo never, never would learn to be proper; for when he said that as they stood upon the steps, she just put both hands into his, whispering tenderly, 'Not empty now,' and, stooping down, kissed her Friedrich under the umbrella."
-Little Women 



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Thursday, May 13, 2010

just sip, skim or skip this one




"Because it's what Jesus would FREAKIN' DO!"
-Izzie Stevens, Grey's Anatomy

"So, Brett, have you heard back from that grad school yet?"
"Yeah," I said with a prideful lilt.  "I can't believe no one told you. I found out I was accepted on Tuesday...you there?"
"Where are the funds going to come from?"
"Well, I guess I have a few options..." I stammered.
"Humph," the static of her heavy breath crackled in my ears.  "I guess I should start praying for you.  
BYE."**
Click.  And scene.

Really...really?

Sorry.
Really? 

And I know, I've said it before --- I really hate it when people use their blogs as uninterrupted spitfire/a medium by which to rant and rave about some tremendous, vain wrong.  But, hey, I'm not above getting on my own nerves.  So, though it will pain me to click "publish post" on this particular draft, permission granted to rant?  Thanks.

Okay.  So, all year you ask me questions regarding my future.  You pry my heart open, you slice into my dreams with questions like, "How are you going to make a living by writing?" and "You prepared to ask 'Do you want fries with that?' for a while?" and "Why aren't you getting married, again?" (oh yeah,
that one was my particular favorite).

And you know what?
 It stressed the living daylights out of me.  I was waiting on pins and needles for my acceptance. You had me biting my fingernails, and rocking back and forth on my heels.  My knees were knocking together, like they were in the seventh grade spelling bee when I misspelled the word "drizzle."
D-R-I-S-S-L-E.

Finally, with ringing affirmative I can now say:
"This year I will be pursuing a Master's degree in Journalism at Regent University."

Is a brief congratulations too much to ask before you immediately sweep the real-world-rug out from underneath me and ask me how I'm going to fund a private college tuition?  I'm not saying that it's wrong for you to ask me how I'm going to pay for something.  Truth be told, I'm worried about it too.  


But, can we look at the silver lining before we start to comment on the size of the storm that is sure to head my way?  Can we be satisfied but for a blinking moment before we're whisked away by our immediate worries?  I'm pretty sure it's what Jesus would freakin' do.

And apparently, from the comments I'm receiving on my facebook and twitter, I'm not the only one who feels this way.  What did you all do when you were faced with this challenge?  Anyone?


**And for the record, I really do love you and I know you love me and want what's best for me.  Thanks for your concern.  I really could not live a day without it.  It's true, I don't have all the answers, but in the mean time, let me show you what I'm capable of

Photo Credit


Okay, friends.  Rant officially over.  Sorry.  Just needed to get that off my chest.  It's gone.  

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just sip, skim or skip this one




"Because it's what Jesus would FREAKIN' DO!"
-Izzie Stevens, Grey's Anatomy

"So, Brett, have you heard back from that grad school yet?"
"Yeah," I said with a prideful lilt.  "I can't believe no one told you. I found out I was accepted on Tuesday...you there?"
"Where are the funds going to come from?"
"Well, I guess I have a few options..." I stammered.
"Humph," the static of her heavy breath crackled in my ears.  "I guess I should start praying for you.  
BYE."**
Click.  And scene.

Really...really?

Sorry.
Really? 

And I know, I've said it before --- I really hate it when people use their blogs as uninterrupted spitfire/a medium by which to rant and rave about some tremendous, vain wrong.  But, hey, I'm not above getting on my own nerves.  So, though it will pain me to click "publish post" on this particular draft, permission granted to rant?  Thanks.

Okay.  So, all year you ask me questions regarding my future.  You pry my heart open, you slice into my dreams with questions like, "How are you going to make a living by writing?" and "You prepared to ask 'Do you want fries with that?' for a while?" and "Why aren't you getting married, again?" (oh yeah,
that one was my particular favorite).

And you know what?
 It stressed the living daylights out of me.  I was waiting on pins and needles for my acceptance. You had me biting my fingernails, and rocking back and forth on my heels.  My knees were knocking together, like they were in the seventh grade spelling bee when I misspelled the word "drizzle."
D-R-I-S-S-L-E.

Finally, with ringing affirmative I can now say:
"This year I will be pursuing a Master's degree in Journalism at Regent University."

Is a brief congratulations too much to ask before you immediately sweep the real-world-rug out from underneath me and ask me how I'm going to fund a private college tuition?  I'm not saying that it's wrong for you to ask me how I'm going to pay for something.  Truth be told, I'm worried about it too.  


But, can we look at the silver lining before we start to comment on the size of the storm that is sure to head my way?  Can we be satisfied but for a blinking moment before we're whisked away by our immediate worries?  I'm pretty sure it's what Jesus would freakin' do.

And apparently, from the comments I'm receiving on my facebook and twitter, I'm not the only one who feels this way.  What did you all do when you were faced with this challenge?  Anyone?


**And for the record, I really do love you and I know you love me and want what's best for me.  Thanks for your concern.  I really could not live a day without it.  It's true, I don't have all the answers, but in the mean time, let me show you what I'm capable of

Photo Credit


Okay, friends.  Rant officially over.  Sorry.  Just needed to get that off my chest.  It's gone.  

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interns, the musical




Yesterday marked my second first day of my second summer as an intern.  There really should be a novel-turned-movie-turned-Broadway-musical (that's the pattern of stories nowadays, I'm waiting for the Pride and Prejudice the book the movie the musical to hit the Big Apple soon.  No, not really) about interning.

Because, it's so not about brewing coffee and making copies, anymore.  It's much, much more.  Especially when you're interning with the youth at St. Giles Presbyterian Church.

My tasks for the first day included (but were not limited to):

1) Spending time finding towers in the downtown Richmond area.
2) Calling the Richmond Flying Squirrels mascot (Side Note: the Flying Squirrels is the mascot of our new baseball team...seriously)
3) Bouncing on a pogo stick in the office. And falling. 
4) Watching my mother bounce on a pogo stick in the office.  And falling. 
5) Slapping someone in the face while playing train wreck.

Being the productive (and violent, apparently) intern that I am, I accomplished all of these tasks by the end of the day. And I was only there for about three hours.  Imagine the madness once we begin working all day.

Oh yes.  It's going to be a good, randomly-fantastic summer.  
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interns, the musical




Yesterday marked my second first day of my second summer as an intern.  There really should be a novel-turned-movie-turned-Broadway-musical (that's the pattern of stories nowadays, I'm waiting for the Pride and Prejudice the book the movie the musical to hit the Big Apple soon.  No, not really) about interning.

Because, it's so not about brewing coffee and making copies, anymore.  It's much, much more.  Especially when you're interning with the youth at St. Giles Presbyterian Church.

My tasks for the first day included (but were not limited to):

1) Spending time finding towers in the downtown Richmond area.
2) Calling the Richmond Flying Squirrels mascot (Side Note: the Flying Squirrels is the mascot of our new baseball team...seriously)
3) Bouncing on a pogo stick in the office. And falling. 
4) Watching my mother bounce on a pogo stick in the office.  And falling. 
5) Slapping someone in the face while playing train wreck.

Being the productive (and violent, apparently) intern that I am, I accomplished all of these tasks by the end of the day. And I was only there for about three hours.  Imagine the madness once we begin working all day.

Oh yes.  It's going to be a good, randomly-fantastic summer.  
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Wednesday, May 12, 2010

pardon me, boys



Alright, friends.  The last of these I'll ever make you watch, I promise.  This is my final SMAD 309 project that we did on the downtown Harrisonburg restaurant, Union Station.

Those of you in the area should totally check it out.  It's a vintage train station they've refurbished into a bar and restaurant.  They're brand new, so they still have a few kinks to work out (my family waited an hour and a half for food the night we went there), but all in all it was a very pleasant experience - and really cool, especially if you like trains.

Actually, the night we went, my grandfather complained to the manager.  He told her to "shoot the cook."  Although she looked like she was about to burst into tears she replied cooly, "I can't, but if you want to I'm sure he wouldn't mind being put out of his misery."

So, a great night, even for us crazy people.

And for those of you who are video experts, I don't know why the audio levels are off...but they are.  Hopefully that's YouTube, and not my final...merp!
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pardon me, boys



Alright, friends.  The last of these I'll ever make you watch, I promise.  This is my final SMAD 309 project that we did on the downtown Harrisonburg restaurant, Union Station.

Those of you in the area should totally check it out.  It's a vintage train station they've refurbished into a bar and restaurant.  They're brand new, so they still have a few kinks to work out (my family waited an hour and a half for food the night we went there), but all in all it was a very pleasant experience - and really cool, especially if you like trains.

Actually, the night we went, my grandfather complained to the manager.  He told her to "shoot the cook."  Although she looked like she was about to burst into tears she replied cooly, "I can't, but if you want to I'm sure he wouldn't mind being put out of his misery."

So, a great night, even for us crazy people.

And for those of you who are video experts, I don't know why the audio levels are off...but they are.  Hopefully that's YouTube, and not my final...merp!
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Tuesday, May 11, 2010

wilson comma brett

"Elle Woods, welcome to Harvard."
-Legally Blonde


Okay, so I'm not going to law school.  I'm not from California, I don't own a lot of pink.  I don't have a little dog at the bottom of my purse.  I'm not legally blonde.  I am, however, legally blind...that's gotta count for something, right?

I just received a phone call from a lovely lady in the admissions office of Regent University, telling me I was accepted into their broadcasting program.

This news had me running around the bottom floor of my house.  Jumping up and down with my sister, texting my friends and family members.  On cloud nine.

Then it hit me.  I have to sign up for classes.  I have to get a job. have to pay my own way through this school.  I have to be a real person and take real responsibility.

Crap!

I guess this is where trusting on the Lord and leaning not on my own understanding comes in.  Because, my own understanding is that I'm going to be dirt poor, tired, hungry and jobless.  Caught in a bunny costume.
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wilson comma brett

"Elle Woods, welcome to Harvard."
-Legally Blonde


Okay, so I'm not going to law school.  I'm not from California, I don't own a lot of pink.  I don't have a little dog at the bottom of my purse.  I'm not legally blonde.  I am, however, legally blind...that's gotta count for something, right?

I just received a phone call from a lovely lady in the admissions office of Regent University, telling me I was accepted into their broadcasting program.

This news had me running around the bottom floor of my house.  Jumping up and down with my sister, texting my friends and family members.  On cloud nine.

Then it hit me.  I have to sign up for classes.  I have to get a job. have to pay my own way through this school.  I have to be a real person and take real responsibility.

Crap!

I guess this is where trusting on the Lord and leaning not on my own understanding comes in.  Because, my own understanding is that I'm going to be dirt poor, tired, hungry and jobless.  Caught in a bunny costume.
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because I knew you...

Alumni.  My grandmother graduated from James Madison University when it was still called "Madison College" and it was all-women.

My best friend since the fourth grade and roommate all four years of undergrad degree.  This picture was taken after we sang "In the Jungle."  Two-part harmony.  It's fine.
How many best friends are we allowed to have?  Because, she's definitely one of them, too.  Doing our post-graduating peacock pride walk: the finale of the longest secret handshake known to mankind.


Being normal.  Kind of.
And, these girls too.

I have been changed for good.


Love you all!


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because I knew you...

Alumni.  My grandmother graduated from James Madison University when it was still called "Madison College" and it was all-women.

My best friend since the fourth grade and roommate all four years of undergrad degree.  This picture was taken after we sang "In the Jungle."  Two-part harmony.  It's fine.
How many best friends are we allowed to have?  Because, she's definitely one of them, too.  Doing our post-graduating peacock pride walk: the finale of the longest secret handshake known to mankind.


Being normal.  Kind of.
And, these girls too.

I have been changed for good.


Love you all!


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Sunday, May 9, 2010

single sentence sunday



"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard?"

-A.A. Mime, Winnie the Pooh

photo: Mika
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single sentence sunday



"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard?"

-A.A. Mime, Winnie the Pooh

photo: Mika
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Saturday, May 8, 2010

unto the breach


"I'm very happy and very scared to be here."
-Penny, Hairspray


I never thought I'd ever have so many emotions surging through me as I do right now.  Happiness, reluctance, bitterness, and many, many more.  So many, in fact that the words are completely mixed in my head, leaving me in a rare form: speechless.  Most of the time when I feel this way, the words come naturally to me - they leaving me tick-tacking away on the keyboard for hours.  But, not this time.  

This time the words won't come naturally.  Because graduating from college, leaving behind my friends and the relationships I've built here with faculty and staff doesn't feel natural.  Wearing those funny purple gowns and the flat mortar board hat with the flappy tassel didn't feel natural either.  But, you know, it's tradition, so...

Perhaps I'll delve into the details of college graduation later.  Maybe I'll write more when I'm not packing up my entire senior year in boxes and tubs.  Maybe I'll tell you all about how my grandfather threatened to shoot the cook of the restaurant we went to last night because our meal took about two hours to come out.  Maybe I'll tell you about how my parents framed the title of the car I've unofficially borrowed for the last four years to make it officially mine.  

Maybe I'll tell you about how one of the grad announcers wore a kilt.  Or about how I heard my favorite SMAD professor call my name when it was my turn to walk across the stage, then look at me and smile with a slight nod.  Maybe I'll tell you how it felt to shake important hands and bridge the gap between now and the future.  Maybe I'll tell you about how Erica and I sang Casting Crown's Lifesong while we were waiting for the ceremony to end.

Maybe I'll tell you all that I have the best friends and family in the entire world.  That spending time with and being surrounded by them has been such a blessing on this very wonderful and challenging day.

Or maybe I'll just swoop over it in order to attain an easy, clean break. 

Congratulations, class of 2010!  


Photo: Milka

Um...now what do I countdown to? 

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unto the breach


"I'm very happy and very scared to be here."
-Penny, Hairspray


I never thought I'd ever have so many emotions surging through me as I do right now.  Happiness, reluctance, bitterness, and many, many more.  So many, in fact that the words are completely mixed in my head, leaving me in a rare form: speechless.  Most of the time when I feel this way, the words come naturally to me - they leaving me tick-tacking away on the keyboard for hours.  But, not this time.  

This time the words won't come naturally.  Because graduating from college, leaving behind my friends and the relationships I've built here with faculty and staff doesn't feel natural.  Wearing those funny purple gowns and the flat mortar board hat with the flappy tassel didn't feel natural either.  But, you know, it's tradition, so...

Perhaps I'll delve into the details of college graduation later.  Maybe I'll write more when I'm not packing up my entire senior year in boxes and tubs.  Maybe I'll tell you all about how my grandfather threatened to shoot the cook of the restaurant we went to last night because our meal took about two hours to come out.  Maybe I'll tell you about how my parents framed the title of the car I've unofficially borrowed for the last four years to make it officially mine.  

Maybe I'll tell you about how one of the grad announcers wore a kilt.  Or about how I heard my favorite SMAD professor call my name when it was my turn to walk across the stage, then look at me and smile with a slight nod.  Maybe I'll tell you how it felt to shake important hands and bridge the gap between now and the future.  Maybe I'll tell you about how Erica and I sang Casting Crown's Lifesong while we were waiting for the ceremony to end.

Maybe I'll tell you all that I have the best friends and family in the entire world.  That spending time with and being surrounded by them has been such a blessing on this very wonderful and challenging day.

Or maybe I'll just swoop over it in order to attain an easy, clean break. 

Congratulations, class of 2010!  


Photo: Milka

Um...now what do I countdown to? 

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Friday, May 7, 2010

wax on, wax off the movie

Remember this?  My post about this wonderful (ahem) karate studio?  Well, here is the promised  package. 

My partner and I turned this in, in all seriousness.  Our class laughed at us.  But, I really think we made lemonade with the crazy lemons this karate studio offered us. 

Enjoy a hearty laugh at our expense. 



Oh, and guess what's tomorrow?!
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wax on, wax off the movie

Remember this?  My post about this wonderful (ahem) karate studio?  Well, here is the promised  package. 

My partner and I turned this in, in all seriousness.  Our class laughed at us.  But, I really think we made lemonade with the crazy lemons this karate studio offered us. 

Enjoy a hearty laugh at our expense. 



Oh, and guess what's tomorrow?!
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Thursday, May 6, 2010

clean break

Someone once told me that men were like waffles.  In their brains, they have these tiny little compartments they shove their thoughts on each subject in.  There's a (small) one for love, one for money, one for protecting, one for worrying.  Each element affecting their masculine tendencies are found in these little clusters of thoughts.  Cute, right?  I mean, who doesn't like little compartments to store things in?

This same person told me that women are like spaghetti.  No, not messy or hard to fork (ew!).  All of our emotions run together like noodles in spaghetti.  They're all connected.  Every decision we make relies on every aspect of our lives.

Side note: This picture used to hang in the bathroom of my pediatrician's office.  It was huge, it took up about half the wall, and it scared the living daylights out of me.  The baby must be a boy too, 'cause he looks a little scared himself.  Like, "What am I supposed to do with all of this crazy spaghetti?!"

Now, I'm not saying that this is the gospel truth.  I'm just vaguely repeating something I heard.  I have absolutely no proof or sources arguing it's credibility.

Gosh, I'm going to be such a great journalist...

And I'm not saying that waffles are better than spaghetti.  Both are especially delicious.  It just really depends on what kind of mood you're in, you know?

I am saying that sometimes it would be nice to be a waffle.  Like, what do I mean?  I mean, it would be nice that when particularly nerving things happened in my life (take college graduation, for example), I would be able to be rational about this whole graduating-in-two-days-thing (I was told by several people that my countdown to graduation was not nice and that I should cease and desist...see how I still stuck it in there?  Yeah, rebel).

For instance, I've been trying to convince others and even myself that I was fine with packing up my life of four years here and moving on to "bigger and better."  But, I play this little game called denial when I'm at these pivotal points in my life (it isn't just a river in Egypt if you play it to win, ya know?).  However, these last few days on campus have not been so internally happy.  I keep reminding myself that this is it.  This is the last time I'll _____ with ______ (insert proper verbs/nouns here, just nothing gross please).

If I weren't spaghetti, maybe I wouldn't have started tearing up when I was watching a freshman pack up his belongings into his family's minivan in front of Bell Hall yesterday.  Maybe I wouldn't have had a panic attack while I was watching the gentlemen set up chairs on the quad.

Maybe I wouldn't be this warbled mixture of uncontainable, simultaneous joy and misery.

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clean break

Someone once told me that men were like waffles.  In their brains, they have these tiny little compartments they shove their thoughts on each subject in.  There's a (small) one for love, one for money, one for protecting, one for worrying.  Each element affecting their masculine tendencies are found in these little clusters of thoughts.  Cute, right?  I mean, who doesn't like little compartments to store things in?

This same person told me that women are like spaghetti.  No, not messy or hard to fork (ew!).  All of our emotions run together like noodles in spaghetti.  They're all connected.  Every decision we make relies on every aspect of our lives.

Side note: This picture used to hang in the bathroom of my pediatrician's office.  It was huge, it took up about half the wall, and it scared the living daylights out of me.  The baby must be a boy too, 'cause he looks a little scared himself.  Like, "What am I supposed to do with all of this crazy spaghetti?!"

Now, I'm not saying that this is the gospel truth.  I'm just vaguely repeating something I heard.  I have absolutely no proof or sources arguing it's credibility.

Gosh, I'm going to be such a great journalist...

And I'm not saying that waffles are better than spaghetti.  Both are especially delicious.  It just really depends on what kind of mood you're in, you know?

I am saying that sometimes it would be nice to be a waffle.  Like, what do I mean?  I mean, it would be nice that when particularly nerving things happened in my life (take college graduation, for example), I would be able to be rational about this whole graduating-in-two-days-thing (I was told by several people that my countdown to graduation was not nice and that I should cease and desist...see how I still stuck it in there?  Yeah, rebel).

For instance, I've been trying to convince others and even myself that I was fine with packing up my life of four years here and moving on to "bigger and better."  But, I play this little game called denial when I'm at these pivotal points in my life (it isn't just a river in Egypt if you play it to win, ya know?).  However, these last few days on campus have not been so internally happy.  I keep reminding myself that this is it.  This is the last time I'll _____ with ______ (insert proper verbs/nouns here, just nothing gross please).

If I weren't spaghetti, maybe I wouldn't have started tearing up when I was watching a freshman pack up his belongings into his family's minivan in front of Bell Hall yesterday.  Maybe I wouldn't have had a panic attack while I was watching the gentlemen set up chairs on the quad.

Maybe I wouldn't be this warbled mixture of uncontainable, simultaneous joy and misery.

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Wednesday, May 5, 2010

dear class of 2010,

"The best is yet to come, and babe won't it be fine?
You think you've seen the sun, but you ain't seen it shine...
We've only tasted the wine
We're gunna drain that cup dry."

-The Best is Yet to Come, Frank Sinatra

Believe it.  Live it.  



3 days. 

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dear class of 2010,

"The best is yet to come, and babe won't it be fine?
You think you've seen the sun, but you ain't seen it shine...
We've only tasted the wine
We're gunna drain that cup dry."

-The Best is Yet to Come, Frank Sinatra

Believe it.  Live it.  



3 days. 

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Tuesday, May 4, 2010

and the countdown continues

"Sandy, it's not the end.  It's only the beginning." 
-Danny, Grease

That's right, I went boldly where no blogger has gone before.  Quoting Grease.  If you roll your eyes or scoff it will only be so obvious that you are jealous and wish you spent more time of your life memorizing iconic movies from the late 1970s.  Yeah.

I've had a a lot of free time the past couple of hours.  And I really don't know what to do with myself when I'm not crazy busy.  I've also worked myself up into a couple of fits, because I have yet to hear back from the grad school I've applied to.

But, it was really fun sitting on the quad with a girlfriend today.  We were sipping our grande iced coffees and talking about the future.  We watched the nice men set up the quad for graduation on Saturday and laughed at the days to come together.  Now, I literally do not know what to do with myself, seeing as how I'm virtually done with my undergraduate degree.  It's miraculous how I can find so many ways to waste time when I'm incredibly busy, but when I have nothing to do, I get so bored.

I'm crazy.

4 days. 


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