Is there...anyone on the air?

Watch This.

2008-12-01T18:00:24Z

sparrow_aire @ 2008-11-28T14:47:00

2008-11-28T21:52:24Z

I miss my hometown.

State of my heart, in better words than I could ever say it.

2008-10-01T06:04:15Z

I've been getting weaker by the day
Like an ailing orchard, I've been leaving dead fruit in my wake
There's a bitter bite inside of me
Because I've been feeding something other than my spirit's deepest need
Remind me how you've turned me inside out

I've been crucified losing my life
Resurrect me, spirit will you heal me?
You have given grace, given me faith in the Christ who gave himself for me

How can I be unchanged now that I see?
Drowning in my debt you credited your righteousness to me
Everything I thought was upside down
But every time I find identity in You
You show me how

I once was lost
But now in You I'm found

I've been crucified losing my life
Resurrect me, Spirit will you heal me?
You have given grace, given me faith in the Christ who gave himself for me

I've been crucified losing my life
Resurrect me, Spirit will you heal me?
You have given grace, given me faith in the Christ who gave himself for me.

This is Exciting!

2008-02-06T04:06:29Z

So this is neat because Gala Bent is my Illustration teacher! I knew that she and her husband were working on something for Asthmatic Kitty, but to see her name on their site unexpectedly is really cool. There are talented, creative, original, neat people in the world, you know? And it's neat to be able to say I know some of them. Like you. And you and you and you.

In other news, I had an EXCELLENT conversation with someone today, and God is so awesome it continually blows me away. Yup!

sparrow_aire @ 2007-12-29T23:49:00

2007-12-30T07:11:25Z

. . . .

How does one break a five month livejournal hiatus?

It's weird to be updating again. I don't know why I stopped, exactly.

. . . .

I guess it's because most other people stopped? It became stagnant? Maybe.

Maybe I'm updating again because I deleted my facebook and flickr accounts. I did so because I want to be doing, rather than sitting and stewing. I would rather be taking photos than uploading them. I would rather write people letters than write on their walls. But mostly, I need to dedicate my time to different things, especially in regards to the pursuit of building a relationship with the Lord.

I want to do that.

So what has been happening? What has been new? I unpacked all the boxes from this summer and set up my room once again at Devon Way. It was weird. I don't know necessarily if I want to stay here...I don't know if all those things will just sit for a few months and then be packed up again...it is always so uncertain. But that's just how it is, I guess. I shouldn't be complaining.

Break has been better than I thought it would be, actually. My favorite memories so far have always occurred late at night, when my mom and I sit by the fire and prop our feet up and pull out the puffy fluffy blankets and just talk for hours or watch a movie. Sugar Plum, our dog since I was in kindergarten, is present once again, due to the passing of one of our family members, my dear Granddad. The first parting among us, in a way.

I found myself looking at old yearbooks. And remembering a lot of things. Unpacking and repacking one's room is always...not an unpleasant task, but a uncomfortable one. You always stumble upon memorabilia that you would care to forget, which dredge up a flood of seemingly forgotten memories. My basketball trophies. The corduroy purse I wore all the time freshman year. A purple boa that was for spirit days and football games at Mountain View (I don't think I ever used it, but I still can't believe I even have one). A grey heathered Hurley hoodie that reminds me of braces and being in 8th grade. A red leather purse my cousin Craig gave me for Christmas last year that still has the tags on it. Clay art projects from middle school that I don't really want but hold on to anyway. I realize, looking back, how in bondage I was, to everything-- to being cool, being accepted, being liked-- I was miserable for most of middle school and part of high school. I am so glad that I am free from those things, and at SPU, and not in high school anymore. I just didn't really fit in. But that's okay. And I'm glad.

It's neat, to look back and see God's presence in absolutely everything. From the reconciliation between my Grandma and my mom to seeing old pictures of myself and Meliss and the cloudy veil that was steadily creeping over our faces and our hearts. We were going downhill, I think, and the Lord brought us out of that. He did indeed.

Things are good my friends. I don't even know what I mean by that, but there you are.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-10-22T20:59:00

2007-10-23T03:06:21Z

Foux de fa fa!

2007-10-04T17:47:46Z

sparrow_aire @ 2007-07-14T13:25:00

2007-07-14T19:29:01Z

“I quote others only the better to express myself.” –Michel de Montaigne

The ancient peoples of Papua New Guinea, who live in the inaccessible highlands of an island six times the size of Britain, were only discovered in the 1930s. They have traveled from the Stone Age to the Space Age in less than 70 years.

Henry Ford: “History is bunk!”

British Patent No. 14, 204 (1884): A formula for making gold from wheat. Cut straw into fine square nips, put them in cold water, keep at a steady 59 degrees F. for ten hours, strain the liquid into a china dish, leave it to stand 24 hours at a temp of 60 degrees F. The surface skim is pure gold.

“I’m interested in the moment when two objects collide and generate a third. The third object is where the interesting work is.” –Bruce Mau, Designer

Helen Keller, blind and deaf from infancy, dreamt of a pearl. This she described as “a smooth exquisitely moulded crystal” with the “velvety green of moss, the soft whiteness of lilies”. She could never have seen or remembered a pearl, a lily, or moss. She was not unique. There are many instances of people dreaming things they have never seen, or of participating in events centuries past or future happenings.

Giraffes only sleep five minutes every 24 hours.

Do Androids Dream of Electronic Sheep?

Charlie Chaplin, who composed his film music while asleep, had a recording device so he could wake up, hum a few bars, and go back to sleep.

Revelations which arrived in dreams include: Rene Descartes (philosopher): the principles of analytical geometry, Albert Einstein, the connection of time with space, Robert Louis Stevenson, the plot of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Elias Howe, the first sewing machine.

Brian Eno: “Dreamed I was a song. Disappointing to wake and find myself a man in a hole.”

Identical discoveries and inventions made independently but concurrently include: the evolutionary theory of the species, calculus, the telephone, the telescope, photography, the planet Neptune and the Rubik Cube.

In Wales, the traditional metal bar cattle grid has confined sheep for centuries. Apparently flocks near the small town of Blaenau Ffestiniog have recently learned to cross cattle grids by tucking up their little legs and rolling over the bars. In sheep terms this represents a giant leap in reasoning power. –The Sunday Times, April 1985

By the way, the British Standards Institute issued a specification some years ago which required all cattle grids to have a narrow ramp for hedgehogs- so they don’t fall between the bars attempting to cross from one side to the other.

Wild monkeys on an isolated island off Japan were introduced to the sweet potato. Unfamiliar with this new food they were unable to cope, getting them covered with sand and dirt. Luckily there was a monkey genius in the community who washed the potatoes in a pool, and then ate them, a ritual which was gradually adopted by the others. At a certain point something quite extraordinary happened. The habit suddenly and spontaneously occurred, without any rational explanation, in several other isolated and unconnected monkey colonies.

Edward James: “Salvador Dali’s inventions are curious things, like, for instance, the Pleuvial Taxi. They came out of real occurrences. Dali and I were waiting one day for a taxi after lunch in Verona. It was pouring, pouring rain and there weren’t any empty taxis. Dali got more and more nervous. Finally it stopped raining, and up came an empty taxi, and Dali said, “It’s almost sure to be raining inside the taxi now that it’s stopped outside.” From that he elaborated the idea of the Pleuvial Taxi. He said, “They’ll be very elegant. It will cost more money to be in a raining taxi. Everybody will come to lunch a bit wet, wearing a mackintosh, even on sunny days, because they’ll have been in one of my Pleuvial Taxis.” He created a Pleuvial Taxi for the first Surrealist show in Paris, with a wax model in it, with snails crawling up her arms. That was the origin of that!”

“An artist who is self-taught is taught by a very ignorant person indeed.” –John Constable

The bark is the song of the dog.

A visual shout vigorously communicates a Soviet message in this poster designed in the 1920s by Alexander Rodchenko. The photograph is of poet Mayakovsky’s girlfriend and was taken by Rodchenko. The poster is frequently reproduced, (for example, on the cover of Franz Ferdinand’s latest album) however, this is the first time, unless you are conversant with Russian, that you will understand what it says: “BOOKS” (she shouts) – “IN ALL BRANCHES OF KNOWLEDGE”.

23.2.1974-- A man in a new overcoat and an astrakhan hat, the weekend shopping in his arms, walking along the pavement barking loudly like a dog. -Ian Breakwell’s Diary, 1964-1985

In 1996 Gary Kasparov- arguably the greatest chess player ever- was beaten by a machine whose capacity for calculation leaves the human brain standing. Whereas Kasparov can evaluate three moves a second, IBM’s Deep Blue can evaluate millions. Nevertheless such is the complexity of chess, this still only provides for five moves ahead. The advantage is reversed when it comes to improvisation, and Kasparov won the second game by this strategy. I think he lost the rest of the matches and apparently at the end of the session, accused the machine of cheating- maybe it has already acquired human characteristics.

"Has anybody publicly said how nice it is to write on rubber with a ballpoint pen? The slow, fat, ink-rich line, rolled over a surface at once dense and yielding, makes for a multidimensional experience no single sheet of paper can offer." -Extract. Nicholson Baker. The Mezzanine.

25.3.1975 London: Farringdon Road, EC1-- A man with one leg considerably shorter than the other, lurching along whistling “I Could Have Danced All Night”. -Ian Breakwell’s Diary. 1964-1985

Liszt, Wagner, Scriabin (‘D Major was yellow’) and Goethe all saw musical notes in colors. For Anthony Burgess an oboe was ‘silver-green lemon juice’ and a flute ‘light brown and cold veal gravy’. Wassily Kandinsky heard sunsets and saw music. ‘Absolute green’, he was sure, is the same as ‘the placid middle notes of a violin’. As a writer Rimbaud had typographic leanings and felt that the letter A was a ‘black hairy corset of loud flies’.

Alexander Theroux listed things that he felt ‘seemed yellow’: ‘maiden aunts, gumdrops, diffidence, the letter H, all women’s poems (except Emily Dickenson’s, which of course, are red) lewd suggestions, debt, the seventies, sadness, the Yale English department faculty, the name as well as the country Brazil, August, the House of Congress, the word ‘hills’, lampshades, physicians, insurance agents, the thin, squealing noises of children in playgrounds, political compromise, the state of Nebraska, illness in general, old wagon wheels, whispering, and the vapid name Catherine.”

“The man who can’t visualize a horse galloping on a tomato is an idiot.” –Andre Breton

A…is like two friends who embrace and shake hands. I is the war-machine that throws projectiles…P is the porter carrying a burden, R signifies rest, the porter leaning on his stick. U is the urn, V is the vase (that is why U and V are often confused). X signifies crossed swords, combat- who will be the victor? Nobody knows- that is why philosophers used X to signify fate, and the mathematicians took it for the unknown. Z is the lightning- is God…” –Victor Hugo

28.6.1985 London: St John Street, EC1-- ‘A man is staring at a puddle. He inspects it from three different positions. Then he walks away, sighs, shrugs his shoulders and says: “With puddles like that there’s no hope for us.” -Ian Breakwell’s Diary

Charles Baudelaire described walking down city streets in the 1850s as an adventure, more dramatic than any play, richer in ideas than any book. One should become, he suggested, a flaneur (a stroller or saunterer). Flaneures don’t have any practical goals in mind, aren’t walking to get something, or to go somewhere. What flaneurs are doing is looking. Opening their eyes and ears to the scene around them, wondering about the lives of those they pass, constructing narratives about the houses, eavesdropping on conversations, studying how people dress and street life in general. Flaneures relish what they discern and discover.

Alfred Stieglitz: “Photography is a fad well nigh on its last legs, thanks largely to the bicycle craze.”

“On his way home from China, Marco Polo saw a rhinoceros in Java. He assumed it was a unicorn although he recorded his surprise at its appearance which was less elegant than he thought and its disposition less gentle.” –E.H. Gombrich Art and Illusion.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, expert of deduction, believed in fairies.

Evolutionist Stephen Jay Gould wrote a ten page essay on whether zebras are white animals with black stripes or black animals with white stripes. He concluded the latter.

Photographer Martin Parr restricted himself to only take photographs on grey days when it was raining or bad weather.

“Imagine a piano having seventy-five different sounds. This is the situation of painters.” –Salvador Dali

“The fewer limitations the artist imposes on his work, the less chance he has for artistic success.” –Alexander Solzhenitsyn

“Give me a laundry list and I will set it to music.” –Gioachino Rossini

“How can you govern a country which has 264 different kinds of cheese?” –General de Gaulle

Note to self- look into What A Life! (1911)

“Sculpture is the stuff you bump into when you step backwards to admire a painting.” –Baudelaire

“Ugliness is superior to beauty; it lasts longer.” –Serge Gainsbourg

“I’m not against beauty, it just sounds boring to me.” –Tibor Kalman

“The most constructive word I can think of for Cornish catering is…Yeeeuuuurrrrchhh. And any restaurant that wants to quote me on the menu can. Almost without exception, it’s vile.” –Food Critic A.A. Gill

In 1840 Edgar Allan Poe wrote The Philosophy of Furniture, an essay on good taste. His preference was for the English style of the period: “a glory of wallpaper, figured rugs, marble-top tables, tall narrow windows with dark red curtains, sofas, antimacassars, vases, unfading wax flowers under bell jars, a rosewood piano, and a cozy fireplace.”

Kumquats are tiny Chinese oranges. They are delicious, succulent, a touch bitter. You like them or you don’t. Deeply nailed into the you of YOU is the like/don’t like feeling. It is not rational or even shared. People like/don’t like the colour puce, bugs, the sound of wind in the willows. If someone doesn’t like spinach you will never ever persuade them that they do. As Clarence Darrow expostulated: “I don’t like spinach, and I’m glad I don’t, because if I liked it- I’d eat it, and I just hate it.” Just like Darrow I used to hate spinach- but now I sort of like it. Maybe it’s because I’m not who I was.

“2 and 2 equals 22, not 4.” –Man Ray

In 1953 Julius and Ethel Rosenburg were executed in America as Russian spies. To keep their contacts clandestine they used a cardboard Jell-O box torn in two halves. Both pieces were given to two individuals so they could identify each other when they met. If the halves matched all was well. It was the unpredictable results and the degree of informational complexity of tearing which made it foolproof.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-07-10T22:45:00

2007-07-11T04:46:06Z

Psh. Scratch my last post, God is faithful, God is good! He triumphs over all.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-07-06T21:10:00

2007-07-07T05:23:01Z

YES! FREE TIME TO ACTUALLY POST AN ENTRY-- A RARE COMMODITY.

Story of my life this past summer. Free time, so far, has been no time. No time for free time. Yup.

Basically, my life has been going something like this:

Wake up at 6:30. Dreams are put on pause for a minute or so while I grasp blindly for my phone and squint at the screen to make sure I actually press "snooze" and not "end". (That happened once, and it resulted in me having a conniption and being 10 minutes late for work). Resume dreams in a half awake state for the next half hour. Struggle out of bed. Go to work and listen to either a) the jazz station b) the Christian station c) the classical station or d) the local college station (all of which are next to each other in that order) on the way there. Get there early and eat a granola bar while watching the City of Fort Collins people mow the grass, the squirrels climb trees, and birds scavenge for food.

7:55- walk into the library while being serenaded by the magical and mysterious flutist.

8:00- 12:00- shelve picture books, put juvenile fiction and non-fiction in order, shelve multiple VHS tapes and DVDs of Bob the Builder and Thomas the Tank Engine, help people find the Harry Potter section.

The past couple days, I have spent 12:00- 4:30 helping my mom clean out one of her rental houses, which she plans on selling. To be honest, the house is, well, really gross-- I dunno. The other day I spent an hour or more scrubbing flaky orange fungus from the shower. :( <-----EXTREME DISMAY WAS HAD. But at the same time, my mom and my sister and I chat while we work and make the best of it, the three of us. It's kind of discouraging, though, because I think it will take a very long time to bring the house up to par-- painting the outside, the inside, repairing damage-- I think we are far from finished.

Previous to this project, this slot of time was taken up by moving all of Granddad's belongings from his house in Loveland to Fort Collins-- and added to that, cleaning his house from top to bottom for a very par-tick-u-lar buyer, to say the least. But he is moved now and that is good.

Then, from 5-6 every day I drive over to my Grandma's house and make her dinner, talk with her, make sure she takes her pills, mow and water her back yard, and help her with her back pain. I enjoy spending time with her-- I have learned things about her life I never knew before.

****

Oh yeah. So this post got interrupted and I am finishing it 24 hours later. Bits of conversation from the remnants of the discussion group are floating up the stairs to my ears. It is a pleasant, peaceful, sound.

For the first time in what feels like weeks, I feel somewhat peaceful and relaxed. My room is kind of hot (we don't have air conditioning, but that's okay...one less thing to pay for) but my red curtains are pulled across the window, I can hear a cricket chirping away outside, and my golden yellow-orange lamp is the only light on in the room and I am lying on my stomach on top of a sleeping bag, typing on Melissa's laptop. It is nice. I like it.

But yeah, this summer has been so busy. When I am finished visiting my Grandma, I am either a) working on homework for Astronomy II (which we have an absurd amount of...last week I had to write two papers, read two chapters, take two assessments, AND visit the planetarium...no dice) b) Bible study c) church or d) taking care of the house and/or other "surprise" responsibilities. So far this summer, we have had to harvest an overgrown lawn, capture and release mice (well, only one so far...I am afraid live traps are no longer working, so we shall have to resort to more drastic measures, much to my dismay), attempt to fix a caved-in drain in the bathtub (how does that even happen?), our dryer broke, and our washer over flowed. Needless to say, we have had an unusual amount of difficulties lately.

On top of that, I managed to hit a gi-hugic pot hole and got a flat tire at one in the morning, Melissa's car is making strange noises, I accidentally gave away the surprise of a surprise birthday party, Barns and Noble erroneously overcharged me $100 causing my bank account to go in the red and...yeah. I have just been feeling overwhelmed and tired from it all. I am thankful for this bit of peacefulness tonight.

I am very thankful for community...it's really neat that God has provided a place for Meliss and Eva and I to host gatherings. Bible study is growing outrageously, and it's great! And discussion group is hosted at our house as well. There is lots of otter pop eating, laughing, praying, discussion, encouragement, support, music making (to the extreme, what with a piano, an accordion, a violin, flutes, guitars, banjos, and sometimes drums (when Lauren is in town!) all accessible) and just...joy here. It's really neat. I am also extremely thankful for the library job and that I am not working at Coldstone...and also that I have had the opportunity to get to know my Grandma better. I will write more about her and the things I have learned and experienced with her later.

One thing I am sad about, though, is that I feel like I have no time for the things I wanted to do this summer...namely, read books, take photos, make art, and make music. Primarily the first two. But I am growing a lot...I am growing in responsibility, in discipline, in knowledge, in self-sufficiency, in courage...I am facing being an "adult" which scares me. (Being an adult= Working. Paying rent. Writing checks. Buying mops. Doing dishes. Getting mouse traps. Mowing the lawn. Managing money. Fixing broken appliances. Scheduling appointments. Calling customer service when things get messed up. Going to bed early. Taking care of the car. Making dinner. Being responsible for one's self. Etc. etc. etc.) And, I am learning to lean on God. So that is good. I am glad I am not sleeping my summer away, either...I realize now, looking back on last summer, that that is not wise. Ben Franklin had it right, strangely.

I think that's all for now. Goodnight.

Welcome to the real world (she said to me, condescendingly)*

2007-06-21T03:00:08Z

So how are things, you ask? How is your summer going? Hmmm. Yeah. Summer.

...

Summer summer summer. I don't know why I'm writing this exactly, since most (emphasis on the most) of the people that wouldn't know how my summer is going and what I have been up to are Seattle-people, and almost none of them have livejournal. (Well, technically, they are Nevada City-Ventura-California-in-general-Bozeman-Boise-and-Edmonds people, but they all are Seattlites in my mind). I guess I am writing it out for my own record-keeping, and because I feel slightly agitated on the inside.

I am working at the Main Library now, and I like it. Today when I got off work I felt good, and that has rarely happened before. I actually like my job. And that is a huge blessing. The Main Library is big, and kind of 60s/70s looking, with tinted windows and a kind of dark interior. It is a very urban (?) library, I guess you could say. It slightly reminds me of New York or those types of buildings that would be in a J.D. Salinger book or kind of like the 365th st Y as it is depicted in the Royal Tenenbaums. (By the way, I have been reading Nine Stories lately). So that is kind of neat. Some years ago I probably would've disliked this building that I work in quite a bit, but as of now I am kind of fond of it in a sentimental way.

Actually, I think my mom may have taken Meliss and I there to get...oh what were they called...not Toad and Frog books but something similar many moons ago, on those strange, stressful, but yet fun and mysterious times when we would live in my Granddad's condo in Fort Collins for a weekend or a week. Just my mom, my sister, and I. Those visits were strange, because the cause of them was not good, and a member of our family was ever present in his absence, but yet they were terrific because it was just the three of us, and my mom would always make things extra special to make up for the unusual and unfortunate circumstances. I recall jumping on the trampoline in the basement while watching Return to Oz on the television, and reading books at night, getting up too early in the morning to drive down to Loveland for school. I remember one of these weekends it was my turn to take Mr. Bear "home". Funnily enough, I never took Mr. Bear home, because I wasn't staying at my home at the time. But at least I had stories to share about what Mr. Bear and I experienced. I remember in particular one kid told the class how Mr. Bear got locked in his dad's car, and so Mr. Bear was captive for a while. I don't know why of all things I remember that, but I always have.

Those visits remind me of fairy Barbie dolls and big colored rubber balls. They remind me of the temperature sensitive thing that my sister most likely got at Skate Castle that I hid on purpose so I could get the praise of finding it. I was a corrupted kid.

Anyway. So I may have been at this library once a long time ago, but I only dimly remember it... or maybe that memory is made up, I don't know. But I work there now. I shelve books, which is nice. Books aren't irritable, they aren't bossy. They are sort of like the pet that you can confide all your woes and hopes to. With books, you are allowed to just shelve. The only thing you have to worry about is whether MacDonald or McDonald goes first, or whether 454.6284 go behind or in front of 454.6789. Sometimes you have to check to make sure it isn't a red dot book, or a green dot book, or any kind of dot book, or if it belongs in the holiday section, or the easy reader section, or the youth paper backs, or if it belongs in the Espanol section, or the Mystery or Colorado section for that matter, but other than that it is fairly simple. And I get to work by myself, and just shelve, and I like it and I am grateful for it. I feel like the youngest employee there, which is something new to me. The people who work there have names like Judith and Sue-Ellen and Carol. They have all been very nice and welcoming. Hmm hmm.

The past three times I have gone there in the early morning hours there has been a man playing the flute outside the building. One of my new favorite things is when flutists practice outside. It makes where ever you are and whatever you are doing mysterious and magical. Even if it is running into the library on your first day of work 10 minutes late (that was terrible, but it will take too long to explain). Yes. But at 7:50 this morning, when the sun was still rising and the streets were still more empty than usual and the City of Fort Collins people were just beginning their day mowing the grass around the library, he was there, playing his flute. How mysterious and nice.

That is another thing that I didn't expect about this summer--since I have to be at work at 8, I am not really able to have late-night adventures. Which is good, in a way, but I kind of miss it and don't really like going to bed at 11 o'clock in the summer. It just feels funny.

Anyway. I shelve the children's and juvenile sections, which is fun. First thing in the morning, an hour before we open, myself and one or two other people hastily shelve all the picture books that came in the night before. It's the first and most important thing we shelve in the morning, and for some reason I am fond of that notion.

In other news, yesterday we had to literally harvest our lawn with a scythe. It was ridiculous, and the beastly lawn had to be taken down in stages since it was so outgrown. Now we have a nice kube playing field, though.

I am also taking Astronomy II online with Meliss, and that is a little different. I think we have to venture to the Planetarium sometime in the near future, and some star gazing will be part of our homework. However, it is unfortunate because I forget about it...I think we have two chapters to read, two tests to take, a visit to the Planetarium and a short paper to write before Sunday. On top of that being work, helping my Granddad move every day this past week, maintaining a house (which requires a lot of work) and things like Bible Study, which is great. But I am finding the real world a little tiring.

Well, besides a lot of other stuff, I guess that is it. The End.

*I never thought I'd use John Mayer lyrics in a lj post, but I guess I just did.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-06-03T09:34:00

2007-06-03T17:04:12Z

It is truly a gorgeous morning.

The room is filled with light-- perhaps even more so than usual due to the now blank white walls. The blinds are up and the windows are open, and I can see green trees and grass bathed in sunlight outside. Some song birds are singing-- not the usual medley of cheeping and chirping but distinguishable bird calls can be heard being exchanged back and forth. Everything from the dry wall on the ceiling to my white down comforter looks somewhat luminescent and soft.

For whatever reason, this setting that I woke up to this morning brought on a flood of memories. Everything from summers in Estes Park to the blush pink carpet that covered the stairs leading to the unfinished third floor of our old house. And I realized that I have seen a lot and heard a lot and experienced a lot in my soon to be 20 years. Sharing my life story with my floor this year--something I have never done before, with anyone-- was really a good thing. I have come to realize this more fully now. It is so interesting to hear someone's full life story...it's funny how much you don't know about a person until you hear their story, even if you have known them for a long time.

Well anyway, I was reflecting on my life story this morning, particularly the past, and wondering about the future, especially in regards to this summer. As I have started packing up my stuff, I have been trying to imagine what I should take home to make my room at Stewart my room...the two times I have come home this year I didn't know what kind of home I was returning to. It would be nice, next year, to have a consistent and stable sanctuary already awaiting my return, one that didn't need to be adjusted to or set up. But it will be okay.

I love Estes Park. I miss it. Some of my best memories are there-- getting bundled up beyond recognition for the Parade of Lights in December, going to the YMCA in the summer and staying up late into the night talking. Going hunting for purple glass. Staying in one of the cabins over Christmas and putting up gum drop lights in the living room window, spreading out the Christmas table cloth, and baking peppermint star cookies. Watching the snow sift down onto the pine trees. I hope that I can spend some time in Estes Park with my family this summer. Although it will never be quite the same as those old times...but we make do.

Anyway. This year has been so many things, in so many ways, and I have learned so much and (I think) grown so much as a person. It has been an incredible year. As Dr. Nuesch-Olver would say, God has blessed my socks off. :) I am sad to see it end, but at the same time it is necessary and I am looking towards the future with expectation and anticipation. I shall miss sitting on logs at the beach with a bonfire crackling and popping nearby, while friends sing praise and worship songs. I shall miss walking to Fremont and Gasworks and looking down at the canal, shimmering and reflecting a fiery and spectacular sunset. I shall miss going to the 24 hour Starbucks and reading Harry Potter and having long discussions. I shall miss going to Pike Place on sunny days and getting iced chai or Oranginas and watching the boats go back and forth, the pigeons and seagulls swoop and battle over crumbs, the diversity of people playing instruments, buying, selling, browsing, and lounging. I will miss our little prayer group and my small group. I shall miss it all...but most of all the friends I have made here. It has truly been a wonderful year.

But at the same time, I am looking forward to seeing long wished-for faces and family. I am looking forward to going to church and Old Town on a summer night. I am looking forward to spontaneous trips up the canyon, picnics, tea times, and lots of otter pops. I am extremely looking forward to Bible study, making music again, and reading books. I am excited to spend time with my sister and my mom. So there are lots of good things ahead.

It is time to move forward now. Lots to do. Essays to write, finals to study for, things to pack and move and re-arrange and fix before I can come home. Goodbyes to be said. But that is at is should be.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-06-02T01:29:00

2007-06-02T08:39:29Z

...I shall be sad to leave this place.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-05-16T00:08:00

2007-05-16T07:19:43Z

BEHOLD! He comes,
Riding on a cloud,
Shining like the sun
At the trumpet's call;
So lift your voice
It's the year of jubilee
And out of Zion's hill salvation comes!

There's no God like Jehovah
There's no God like Jehovah
There's no God like Jehovah
There's no God like Jehovah

So lift your voice
It's the year of jubilee
And out of Zion's hill salvation comes!

...this has been a year of jubilee for me. I was so overcome singing this song with the gospel choir tonight...Oh my Lord! --tears came to my eyes, the hairs on my arm stood up, I was almost trembling with euphoric joy. Complete joy, that is what I felt. A slight glimpse of heaven occurred on earth tonight. The Holy Spirit was in this place--that place-- the small, humble, and yet wonderful First Free Methodist Church on 3rd Ave West in Seattle. Oh, what a wonderful thing it is...I have felt like this only once before, on Good Friday one year ago. There is no God like Jehovah, indeed! How awesome and wonderful and all encompassing He is...so holy and worthy! My friend Emily and I looked at each other as we were singing the last of the song, and our eyes were shimmering with tears, and yet we were smiling so hard our faces hurt. I can only imagine what heaven will be like...thank you, gracious Lord, for this school, this choir, for friends (friends from Washington AND Colorado were present tonight!) for parents, and grandparents, and sisters. ;) I am overwhelmed (but in the best way possible) with joy, humbleness, happiness, awe, and wonder. There is no God like Jehovah indeed.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-05-13T02:57:00

2007-05-13T09:57:39Z

When people use their talents for the glory of God, it is a beautiful thing.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-05-06T12:49:00

2007-05-06T20:37:58Z

Mir.

...I dislike money, jobs, and the fact that I need to obtain both of them.

I'm groggy. But it's my own fault. Going to bed at four and getting up eight and half hours later will do that to you. But it was worth it. Wasn't it?

Art: 1. Human effort to imitate, supplement, alter, or counteract the work of nature.
2. The conscious production or arrangement of sounds, colors, forms, movements, or other elements in a manner that affects the sense of beauty, specifically the production of the beautiful in a graphic or plastic medium.

or is it

Art: An expression of creativity or imagination, or both.

or perhaps

Art: That which is made with the intention of stimulating the human senses as well as the human mind and/or spirit. There is no general agreed-upon definition of art, since defining the boundaries of "art" is subjective.

It is interesting that no one really knows what art is. And yet it plays such a large role in our society and is valued so highly. Someone last night asked me what my definition of art was. I couldn't think of a satisfactory answer--art, I guess, falls into all of the above categories-- but does that mean a piece of trash on the ground could be called art because it could possibly illicit an emotional response? I would say no. But it could be art, according to the last definition above. It just seems kind of silly.

Last night I, and a couple of friends, attended the 36 hour grand opening of the newly remodeled SAM (Seattle Art Museum) for free. It was quite an interesting experience. When we first walked in, we were greeted by throbbing music, a swarming crowd of people (some of them dancing), bright lights flashing above our heads, and a multitude of colors. It was was very new, very modern-- a 21st century greeting. Welcome to the new SAM. With new art. With new artists. Conveying new messages.

Up above us were suspended several white cars, and streaming out of each were cables with pulsing and flashing bright colored lights-- I hear the inspiration for these pieces were terrorists, car bombers. Indeed, the first level of the new SAM last night looked more like a rave, a hip club, some sort of dance party, rather than an art museum. But the modernness of it all served its purpose well-- I admit, I was excited, it was new, it was cool.

I wonder what artists 100, 500, years ago would've thought by such a display? They probably would've had a breakdown and run out of the building, quite alarmed by the throbbing, pulsing, loud noise and the flashing lights and the multitudes of people.

The new building is very beautiful-- new wooden floors, lights, art-- I liked the organization of the building. The first level up, one is fittingly greeted by the contemporary and modern art galleries. The pieces were well selected-- very interesting. I didn't recognize most of the names and there were more than several pieces done in the last 5-10 years. What would it be like to have your art in an art museum while you were still alive? Hmm.

From there you move into the American art galleries, and then Northwest art and Asian art (proper for Seattle). We stayed about two and half hours, I think, and even then we didn't finish seeing the whole first floor. It's an impressive collection and an impressive building.

Yesterday was so full of stuff. I went to Ballard with my friend Kari and we saw Cursive play a free in-store performance at Sonic Boom, and later in the day we saw Apostle of Hustle (which includes the guitarist from Broken Social Scene) play as well. I enjoyed their (Apostle of Hustle's) music quite a bit, although their music on myspace is not representative of their sound, at least in my opinion-- they sounded much better live. To my surprise and enjoyment, Tim Kasher played some old stuff as well as some new stuff-- I enjoyed hearing Making Friends and Acquaintances off of one of his early albums as well as The Recluse from the Ugly Organ. It seems to me that he is taking a cue from Sufjan Stevens-- he had flute, trumpet, and jingle bells added to some of his songs. It was quite surprising, but also enjoyable.

In between sets we went to Archie McPhees, which is one of the craziest stores I have ever been in. It is stuffed with random, odd, old, crazy, sometimes tacky, stuff-- everything from huge rubber crows, to build your own hut kits, to glass animal eyeballs, to Japanese candy. There were Narwhal vs. Unicorn battling kits (which exchangeable horns), hologram postcards, bouncy balls, urinals, and tin Soviet Union propaganda cards. There were plastic crucifixes, extra large yellow suits, rubber fish that squirt water, and gas masks for children. We spent probably an hour in there, and even still I don't think we saw everything. It was quite the store.

We also went to Cupcake Royale, a really cutesy gourmet cupcake shop, as well as a Scandinavian eaterie as well as some other cutesy stores. It was a great day.

After that was a rushed dinner and then some extensive NPR listening, which was extremely nice. Art museum fun followed into the early hours of the morning.

Oh, and on Friday night was the Emerson banquet, which was actually really really fun. Fantastic food, dancing, the best floor ever, and all that. Top notch.

So today shall be fully devoted to homework, applying for jobs, e-mailing professors, trying to get an advisor, and such un-pleasant things. But after a weekend such as this, it is to be expected.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-05-04T12:10:00

2007-05-04T19:15:06Z

I would like to take photos like these, make images like these:

Sigh. There are lots of talented people in the world...I want to know how I should use my time here on earth. How does an artist, someone with artistic inclinations, serve God? I am trying to figure out the answers to the facets of that question. It's not an easy one.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-04-29T16:51:00

2007-04-30T00:32:38Z

This weekend has been...full. Very full. Where to begin?

It somewhat irritates me that I haven't been able to very easily describe things in words lately, and therefore must resort to frequent, massive picture posts. Sometimes. But they have their place.

I guess I am just one of the few that likes leaving their journal public, and that changes the dynamic a bit, for better or worse.

But anyway, this weekend.

I suppose I should begin with Thursday. I am in a gospel choir here, and I must say, it is absolutely amazing. It is so dramatically different than my high school choral experience. Never before have I been part of a vocal group that so loved their director; never before have I been part of a group that believed the words they were singing with all their hearts; never before have I been part of a group that desired to "disappear" as we performed, that instead of seeking praise and glory for ourselves that it would be directed towards the One who deserves all thanks and praise. It is so different...

Dr. Newby is the director, and I have utmost respect and admiration for him. At all other choral performances I have been a part of, the night of the concert is usually stressful: people talking during the rehearsal, being disrespectful towards the director; Mr. Chandler would be looking venomous; our choir would not be entirely prepared. But not so with this one. Being a one credit class, we have only had about four rehearsals so far- only four, and a third of the choir is brand new (including myself). It is not an audition group, in fact, you don't even have to be a singer. Just someone who wants to praise God. So we didn't know the songs perfectly, I, myself, didn't even know some of the words-- but no matter. Dr. Newby places the whole concert in God's hands-- if we trip up a little during a performance, he just looks at us mischievously, sometimes he laughs. As one person said, in the prayer time before the concert, singing with that choir and with those in attendance...it feels like going home.

I have never had so much fun singing. Clapping. Dancing. The choir is huge-- overspilling the risers-- and the small First Free Methodist church was packed. People were lining up an hour before hand-- "Do you know why? Do you know why those people are lined up out there? It's because they want to meet the Holy Spirit". Dr. Newby is freaking rad. There was also a full orchestra and a band of epic proportions-- not in size, it was comprised of only three guys-- but they are so so so good. Professional musicians, to be sure. But the concert was great. The last song-- we just went on and on, not wanting to stop-- I wonder how long it was, time wise. 15 minutes? 20? Everyone in the audience was clapping and dancing and singing with us. It was simply amazing. I can only imagine what heaven will be like...

Friday I went with my friend Kari to Ballard to see Cloud Cult play a live in-store performance at Sonic Boom. It was not nearly as full as I expected it to be. I decided that in-store performances are one of the best things ever-- it's like getting a rare, delectable dessert for free. A world class chef handing you a $25.00 slice of cheesecake or truffle and saying, "here you go." Maybe something like that. Anyway, I think I like in-stores even better than shows, in some ways. They are not as crowded, you can actually see, you can breathe, the musician is within an arm's reach of you (if you get there early enough) and it's very personal and intimate. You can hear the lyrics and the music in general better. Oh so lovely. It was just him on guitar and a girl on violin-- supreme. I liked the acoustic renditions of his songs a lot-- maybe more than with the full band. At least in my opinion. You are close enough to see the letter tattoos on his fingers...

It was sweet. I was too shy to talk to him, although I very much could have-- I don't like talking to "famous" people even when they aren't drastically famous-- still on the up and up-- but still, I hate feeling like a fan and not a person. Which is probably just my own insecurities. Like if I were ever to meet Sufjan Stevens...I think I wouldn't be able to not talk to him, as he's...well, Sufjan Stevens-- but honestly, I don't know what I would say. I think I would mumble incoherent gibberish and shake his hand and stagger away, dazed. Maybe. But then, perhaps that is putting too much admiration, or something, into a person...when they are just a person. Another one of God's loved ones. Like you and me. There is no reason to feel lesser-than or abashed.

After that, I did eventually get talked into going to the show, and it was good. The openers, not so good. But yeah, it was a worthy endeavor, although I could hardly see the whole time and was up against the water cooler, and people kept reaching around me to get cups of water and it was kind of irksome. I decided next time I go to a show, I am bringing high heels to wear as soon as the headliner comes on. Then at least I will be the same height as everyone else. :/

Saturday-- went to Golden Gardens with some friends to "study"-- but that didn't really happen. I just took a walk for a while by myself, observing the people at the beach and taking pictures of sea gulls and ocean foam and long-gone docks, except for the remnants of their wooden legs, which looked like crooked teeth. It was lovely. Just the right temperature, just the right setting. Read in my Bible some. Lucky Lauren Begun is reading Harry Potter for the first time. I wish I could re-read Harry Potter for the first time...have no idea what is coming next, while stretched out on a turquoise blanket with the tide going in and out, good friends for company, all of them occupied with various activities-- journaling, studying, taking pictures, throwing a softball back and forth, partially burying each others' limbs in the sand. It was an exquisite day.

Oh, and last night I went to a laser show for free, courtesy of my friend Kari. It was trippy. And weird. Kind of cool.

This morning the gospel choir sang at an Episcopalian church and it was neat. Again, clapping and dancing and praising God was to be had.

So this weekend was excellent. Which is not to say that there aren't troubling things-- indeed, riding the bus is enough evidence of that. On the way to the show with Kari, there was man on the bus with one leg in a wheelchair. When he had buckled himself in sufficiently, he said to the bus driver loudly, "All right, lets rock and roll." Then, "Just don't hit any mines. They'll eat you alive." Everyone on the bus kept looking down at their shoes or buried their noses a little further in their books. A while later, two (women? men? I couldn't be sure) with shaved heads got on and the man with one leg started talking to one of them, telling them how he got someone knocked up again and how he hoped it was a boy because he already had 11 girls. The androgynous shaved-headed person laughed awkwardly. It was kind of a vulgar conversation.

Take a look at the Stranger, a free alternative arts and culture paper they distribute here in Seattle. Flip to the back, and you will see what I mean-- there's the "Lust" classifieds and supposedly "Love" classifieds. I wouldn't recommend reading them.

At night, you can hear the sirens of the city wailing...I remember Meliss recalling a similar sentiment about Rhode Island. Sirens are a mournful noise.

The city...cities. People. I am glad that hope exists.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-04-23T11:57:00

2007-04-23T19:03:46Z

I am an SMC (Student Ministry Coordinator) as of today. A year + commitment. But I am glad.

Yesterday some friends and I spread out a blanket on the green green grass of Tiffany Loop and read under the glowing canopy of tree leaves. The sunlight danced on the pages of our books...and someone was practicing their flute, playing spritely melodies. It seemed almost otherworldly.

The sun has been shining a lot. Regardless of the dimness of the past week. The world seems to be in turmoil...ah.

If I am alive this time next year,
will I have arrived in time to share?
And mine is about as good this far.
And I'm still applied to what you are.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you.

And I heard from the trees a great parade.
And I heard from the hills a band was made.
And will I be invited to the sound?
And will I be a part of what you've made?
And I am throwing all my thoughts away.
And I'm destroying every bet I've made.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-04-13T23:35:00

2007-04-14T07:30:39Z

There has been too much going on lately for me to update...kind of. I had this grand scheme in mind to commemorate the 2,000th comment, but unfortunately I missed it by a few. Mir. Oh well. I think it was an anonymous comment anyhow.*

My fingers have just finished thawing, and the bottoms of my jeans are damp and rolled up to my knees. But I am so content and at peace right now; tonight may have been the best night at SPU so far. Maybe.

Basically, a group of maybe...100 people, maybe some more or some less (I am not so good at estimating numbers, at all) stood out in the rain at dusk and sang praise and worship songs together. Then we all walked 1.5 miles to Gasworks park (by this time it was dark, and it had stopped raining, but we were all still quite wet), forming a caravan of people, laughing and singing in the night, neon green and orange glow sticks bobbing up and down in the darkness as we went. We finally made it to Gasworks, and split up into small groups. For the next hour, we prayed to God for SPU, for other colleges, for Seattle, for the world. It was amazing. And very cold. And very wet. But amazing nonetheless. It was so wonderful to look out across Lake Union, and see all the lights of Seattle wavering in its waters...and to pray for the city, and for all the people in it. It was so wonderful to be so cold, and yet so enveloped by the warmth of fellowship and by the love of God. It was quiet, it was still, and yet there was the constant, gentle murmur of voices praying to God...now louder, now softer. Prayers seem somehow almost tangible to me...or, I don't know, I want to visualize them. Prayers remind me of birds flying.

Easter weekend I went with my friend Amanda to Tacoma, which is about an hour away from Seattle. We went to the glass museum there, which is very interesting architecturally...the building is shaped like a cone, kind of. The interior of the cone looks like the room in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory where Charlie and Grandpa Joe drink fizzy lifting drinks. In this cone shaped room there were several furnaces, and you could watch guest glass blowers and glass sculptors at work. It was neat. I suppose the cone shape of the room is to vent toxins from the blow torches and such out of the building, as well as the heat from the furnaces. We also saw a fascinating art show at the museum that was about luminous art. The artist used everything from books to night lights to projectors to audio recordings of someone spelling out the Bible letter by letter in his art work. One room in particular was very intriguing...the room was dark, but it was filled with narrow, focused beams of light which cast pools light on the floor. Then there would be a small plaque in front of each circle of light that would say something random like, "windshield wipers on a rainy day", and then you realized the light you were standing under had such filters on it, and went on and off in such a way, that the light on the floor looked exactly how light looks when one is driving on a rainy day. It's hard to describe, but it was quite remarkable and quite neat. All the events, also, were in some way related to the life of the brother of the artist (if that makes sense). Extremely interesting.

I also had the opportunity, about a week ago, to see a really, really amazing (or so I hear) jazz guitarist perform at one of Seattle's most renowned jazz clubs. It was sa-weet. The drummer, to me, was particularly phenomenal. I have never seen anyone drum like that. It was swell.

What else? One of the classes I am taking this quarter, Holistic Ministries, is taught by a wonderful woman that I highly admire. She is Swiss-Argentinean, which is an interesting mix, to be sure. She is Swiss, by heritage, but she grew up in Argentina. As a result she has a delightful accent and she is just...so full of love for her students and for people in general. I consider it truly a blessing to be her student, and to learn from her. She teaches us about the poor, and how to minister to them effectively... I remind myself that there have been people who went to this university that have changed the world...I am so lucky to be here. A list of the people I have come across here that I deeply admire: Dr. Newby, leader of campus ministries (whom I have had the benefit of learning from twice now-- last quarter he was my teacher for UCOR and this quarter I have him for Gospel Choir, which is phenomenal), Dr. Delia Neusch-Olver (whom I just described), John Perkins (equals freaking amazing...I started tearing up with emotion when I shook his hand, and so then excused myself hurriedly), and Dr. Lora Jones (who is 90 years old and still travels the world and works in ministry in China). Just to name a few. Which is not to say that SPU is perfect. But it is still such a blessing.

I just pray that I can use my time effectively and not squander it away on foolish things. I only got about 4.5 hours of sleep last night, and that was stupid, to put it honestly. Then I had to take a 3 hour nap today to make up for my sleep deprivation. That had better not happen again. Sheesh. I get frustrated with myself sometimes.

I am also taking Psychology this quarter, which is very interesting. I wrote a kind of long-ish post about some the things I am learning and how I feel about them, but eh...I don't know. Yeah.

It seems like too much has happened to really remember it all and write it all down. Which is good I guess. Because I write too much about mundane things anyway (at least, they are probably mundane to everyone but me). My English professor once commented about blogs...or at least I think it was her, it may have been someone else...but at any rate whomever it was expressed the common sentiment that the majority of blogs are boring to everyone else except the person that writes it. Especially blogs in which people just write things like, "Today I did this..." and such. Which I sometimes fear that I do. Also, I know of some people that think blogs are whiny, self-absorbed things. I hope this isn't the case. All I know is that I can't stop writing, and it's more meaningful, at least for me, if I know another person besides myself will potentially be reading it. It is how I express myself...which sounds cliche and lame, but it is true. Hopefully this thing isn't boring or whiny...I don't know, I think reading other people's blogs (or livejournals) is fascinating, to put it mildly. But I have been questioning whether I should friend lock mine or what...I just don't know. And that was a very long tangent and this entry is getting too long anyhow.

SO, besides all of that...some other things have been happening, but this is probably not the best place to describe them. Yes. I think that is all I wanted to say.

*Anonymous commenter, ready to receive your prize? Send a self-addressed, stamped envelope and a non-refundable $100 "prize deposit" to:

I want my prize now!
2784 Shady Lane
P.O. Box 900
Seattle, WA 98119
USA

Citizens not of Yemen need not apply. Participants allergic to paprika or suffering from asthma or arachibutyrophobia need not apply. Shipping and handling not included in prize deposit. May take 6-18 weeks for delivery.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-04-12T01:41:00

2007-04-12T09:01:38Z

Kurt Vonnegut died yesterday. So it goes, I suppose.

In Psychology, we are learning about early development, and we watched a video on Harry Harlow's experiments regarding attachment. We learned that in the experiment he had baby monkeys be "raised" by two fake mothers-- one made out of wire, that solely provided nourishment, and the other was a wire structure similar to the first except that it was covered with a soft terry cloth and had a sort of monkey-ish face. This "mother", however, did not provide nourishment. In all cases, the monkeys clung to the cloth mother, although it provided no nourishment. Now I am not a huge fan of monkeys; they are probably one of my least favorite animals. But still, seeing the video of these poor baby monkeys (that looked so child like) so scared, and having no contact with any living thing their entire lives-- only false, somewhat alarming-looking wire structures-- it was sad. Not only that, but Harry Harlow himself-- what a disturbing fellow. In the video he was cold, logical; unfeeling to the extreme. You could feel it in his eyes, in his tone of voice. It was chilling. That is what unnerves me about the sciences, including psychology (particularly psychology?). The world, everything-- is broken down into parts, facts. There is no room for the spirit, for unfathomable, awesome mysteries...I am reminded of Pope's An Essay on Man.

Anyway. Harlow was certainly off-beat in the video, but reading more about him was positively disturbing. He conducted studies on the monkeys regarding isolation, keeping infant monkeys in solitary darkness for up to two years in chambers which he himself dubbed "the pit of despair". This is certainly, absolutely, cruel and unnecessary--the monkeys, as you can imagine, were severely abnormal when they were finally allowed to emerge. He did other awful things-- but I shall not describe them here. This excerpt from the Wikipedia article on him suits him well:

William Mason, who worked with Harlow, told writer Deborah Blum that Harlow "kept this going to the point where it was clear to many people that the work was really violating ordinary sensibilities, that anybody with respect for life or people would find this offensive. It's as if he sat down and said, 'I'm only going to be around another ten years. What I'd like to do, then, is leave a great big mess behind.' If that was his aim, he did a perfect job."

And of course, there is the infamous "Little Albert" experiment, which of course is considered unethical today...but never the less, it was carried out, and I hate to think of the result it had on Albert's later life. In a dark way, at first, it could be considered a little funny...until you find out more. In my 40 Studies that Changed Psychology book, it says that Watson (who performed the experiments on little Albert) and his partner had some qualms about conditioning a human as they did...but they left it largely unjustified and carried through with it anyway. It disturbs me...seeing things as the sum of their parts...it always has. I am reminded of the smell of formaldehyde and the Anatomy room...

Anyway. So it was not a great way to start off the day. But on top of that, a couple times recently, I have found it extremely hard to concentrate, think, or DO anything...all I want is to collapse into bed. It's really strange. I get kind of a headache, and for the life of me, I can't concentrate or stay awake at all. I hate it. I don't know if it's just lack of sleep or what...but it's bad. My eyes...seem not to focus and I just can't think. It happened all through Holistic Ministries today. It was not so great.

Some other big events took place today...but perhaps this is not the proper place to describe them. Another time, perhaps.

So, that's it I suppose. Goodnight.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-04-05T21:10:00

2007-04-06T04:16:47Z

A Handful of Cloud, or Something About Airplanes

2007-03-28T21:10:31Z

I don't know how I feel about being back. I guess I feel like I'm not ready to start another quarter. My classes this quarter are...interesting. Psychology. Christian Formation (which sounds very promising). And either Holistic Ministry or Color Theory. I am trying to get into Color Theory, but one of the two Color Theory classes is drastically over-full, so those extra students may be put into the class I am waitlisted for, ending any hope of my getting into it. But we shall see. Maybe I'm supposed to be in Holistic Ministry, even though I don't exactly know what that means, what to expect, or why I am there.

I miss my English class from last quarter.

I made a four year plan last night, and it scares me, a little. Firstly, how much that four-year plan will cost. Secondly, how delicate the balance is...it needs to be fulfilled perfectly in order for me to graduate. It just seems like there are so many requirements. It is sitting next to me, innocent, just a piece of paper...a 24,000 dollars a year paper. Depending on how you look at it. That number could be some less or a lot more, depending how things go.

I also go in for my SMC interview tonight at 8 which I am a little nervous about. I also am sick. Not terribly sick, but still sick. I just hope it doesn't get worse.

I toured the Art Institute in Denver over break. I am 90% sure I won't go there, and yet...I can't help thinking what it would be like to be taking Advanced Lighting, or learn how to use large-format cameras...what would it be like to know those things? And the program here, well, how far can it take me? But also, I am being educated in my faith...and that is priceless. SPU it is, then. Carry on.

I left my book on the plane. Darn it. Now I shall have to buy another one, as it was on loan from someone. The man sitting next to me on the plane played solitaire the whole time, and was listening to South American music. He also got me a bag of pretzels. For no apparent reason. I ate them thankfully (wait, how does one eat something thankfully? I should probably pick a different...adverb? But oh well) then fell asleep once again. I saw the top of Mt. Rainier out my window...we literally flew right past it. The clouds seem so tangible when flying by them...it seems like you should be able to reach out your hand and scoop up a handful of cloud, doesn't it? They really do look solid. Like you could lounge around on top of them. But I imagine scooping up handful of cloud would be impossible, and even if it were possible, it would be terribly cold and damp and disappear into thin air. It would be rather disappointing. Pity. And also, it seems that one should be able to hover in some sort of device and then simply open the door of said air craft and, being careful not to loose one's balance (for that would be an extremely unfortunate event) simply reach out and touch a cloud. But I suppose it would be terribly windy (although it looks so serene from a plane) and you would probably fall to your death. So it goes.

Isn't it amazing that we can see such things on an every day basis? That flying above the clouds is not only comfortable, and possible, but that it is affordable almost to the point of being common place? When we flew by Rainier, I wanted to tap the shoulder of the man next to me and make sure he didn't miss it. I looked around to see if anyone else was marveling at this other-worldly view, but no one was looking out the windows--everyone either had headphones on and their heads tilted back in their headrests, the New York Times or some similar paper or magazine spread out in front of them, or they were sleeping with their mouths open. Everyone looked rather bored. No one found it spectacular that we were flying above the clouds, passing the peak of Olympus.

That was a long tangent.

I don't want to go to class, not really.

Well, I guess that is all. Spring break was good, in a lot of ways. Although it did have it's horribly bad moments. But all breaks do, I suppose.

Also, I think I may friend lock this journal sometime in the future. Not sure though. We'll see.

I guess I'd better be responsible now.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-03-14T17:57:00

2007-03-15T01:10:54Z

The Past Week in (a few) Pictures...

I stayed up until 4:30 in the morning working on my English project. But strangely, I'm not tired. The late afternoon sunlight coming in through my window is lovely...I'm ready to be home.

sparrow_aire @ 2007-03-05T20:24:00

2007-03-06T06:08:14Z

Hmmm, Hi.

This song really fits my mood perfectly. Except for that brief section in the middle where some Spaniard sings opera. Not really, but still.

I can't wait to be home for Spring Break. I am so so so looking forward to Bible Study and seeing my mom and Meliss. Although I envision coming home to a Colorado on the verge of Spring, like it is here--the flowering trees have been blooming for over a week now-- I know that is probably not the case. Still thawing, I expect.

Anyhow. It will be great regardless of the weather. I was thinking about IASIS and Faith E Free and how nice it will be to go to those churches again, if only for a short time.

For a group project for one of my classes, we put together some short films in which we attempted to play a character opposite of our natural personality. Needless to say, I was cast as the cheerleader. It was ridiculous. But actually kind of fun.

Tomorrow my friend Kari and I (and most likely Emily and Moorea) will be going to see Oh No! Oh My! At the Seattle Center for a mere 6 dollars. I am really excited. I am also seeing Fujiya & Miyagi on Saturday, so that'll be fun.

This weekend was so excellent. Friday there was some Royal Tenenbaums watching until 3 a.m. in the movie lounge, and on Saturday we went to Decade Skate, which was highly entertaining. After Decade Skate, of course, was roller skating at this sweet vintage-y roller rink which strongly reminded me of Skate Castle. I loved it. We got there at midnight and skated until 1--late night skating at an authentic roller rink is supreme fun.

They had this awesome photobooth there-- an actual one, not like the cheesy silly ones they have nowdays. I have always wanted vintage photobooth photos with familiar friendly faces in them, making ridiculous expressions. Like so:

Yeah. Some

and

It was really, really fun. Then Moorea drove us back, and I felt like I was being swept home on a soft platter, like the little kid in the Birthday Book by Dr. Seuss.

"Community" is an over-used, kind of vague word, but I know what it is now. And I just have to say...I absolutely love it here. Even though SPU doesn't have the art program I'm looking for, I don't know if I can sacrifice the community here and...just everything about this place by going to another school. Where do my priorities lie? With getting the best art education, or being in a place where I can love God with the people in my community? I think I much prefer the latter. I have discovered how wonderful and amazing it is...

Well. God will place me where I am supposed to be next year, be it here or not here. I can't afford it, that's for sure. But G'd will provide.

Prayer Group last night was radical. That's all I have to say about that.

I think I will go to an all-dorm worship night now.