Apologies for the hiatus, to whoever uses this blog to access my xanga.

The semester is almost over, and I have one week left in Spokane until next September, coincidentally, just a few days before my 21st birthday. I had a really light semester which allowed me to do more things that are more fulfilling than school. I’ve been tutoring refugee high school students in math. Its been glorious, and has made me want to be a teacher in a refugee camp. I’ll take my CBEST and CSET this summer and hopefully be able to substitute teach. and then I’ll graduate, and figure out what I want to do with my life. Maybe do Peace Corps. Maybe Teach for America. Maybe go somewhere in CA and work/get credential. Maybe work at FIRM. That would be sweet actually, if I could work at FIRM and also go to school for a credential.  I don’t think I could do school without outside work with real people to get me through.

There is more about me I’m sure. I’ve been having good conversations with Iveth all year, but especially in the last few weeks. I’m gonna miss her like no other when I’m gone.  Its also hitting me how many people are graduating/leaving this year, who quite possibly, I’ll never see again. Eesh.

To all boys who may or may not be reading this:
if you say you’re gonna call, you best call.
if you think you can drop in and out of someone else’s life, you best get some good apologies to precede whatever it is that is so important.
if you start reminiscing, keep it to yourself.
if you want to start recommunicating, do something a little less public than a facebook wall
if you have a girlfriend, stay the hell away from me and all other exes. it just makes life easier for all involved.
if you’re gonna sign your name at the end of a note, don’t even think the word love.

thanks buddy.
you’re always there for me….

this year HAS to be different

I feel like its gonna be the same as last year

same kaitie

same kaitie tyler drama

same lack of sun   (already… its supposed to still be summer here)

same fake relationship with ballardia… and kaitie… and probably everyone

i want to go home to stuart. i want to go home to Fresno. I want to go home to FIRM. I don’t want to be here right now.

how do I change all those so that I am present in the here and now, not living in memories, or dread of the now. How do I look forward to the future. look forward to SA, to a career, to serving people, to meeting new people? how do i change either my present situation or my relationship to the present situation so that I can be happy?

I’m not going through another semester like last spring.

i like jesus. he makes me smile

I am in love.

I am loved.

I feel it in the pit of my stomach, the disbelieving smile spread across my face as I roll my eyes and shake my head. The antsy leg movements. The dancing and singing as I play music so loudly while no one else is home.

This I know is true.

I am a beloved daughter of God. And his grace is more than enough for all that I do (and forget to do, too). And I am freed by Him, to not depend on all you people here on earth for approval and satisfaction. But I need you, to practice Love with. So we can support each other and grow up into His Kingdom.

Theres this boy that I know. and once Loved/enjoyed/liked ….. loved. and he still makes me happy. and we still click really well.

its funny though. because i go crazy if i get obsessive about a boy. and i start needing boy around at all times for reassurance and help and love and emotional stability. but when i have my Jesus with me. and my Jesus as “number 1″ or whatever cheesy saying you want to insert there, then i enjoy people a whole lot more (and boy too). I don’t know if that’s how its supposed to work. i thought i was supposed to be better with Jesus when i didn’t have boy around to distract me? so then i wonder if i’m projecting my love and being loved onto Jesus when I really am just dependent on someone here loving me. (not that theres love in the equation with boy right now) so i dunno. thoughts?

in other news. these are quotes from sojourners that make me happy.

God cares for the poor, so should I. God cares for the stranger, so should I. God cares for creation, so should I. God cares for the orphan, so should I. God cares for people who don’t vote like me, so should I. God cares…so should I.

It sounds so simple to seek first the Kingdom of God. I make it very complicated.

and

The world is looking for saints to pray with who have known the depths of weakness, because that’s where this world is. It doesn’t want light, fluffy spirituality. It wants to kneel next to the Jobs who have seen the face of God. And that’s what we as a Christian community can be for the hurting. Out pain and suffering are not some kind of spiritual liability. They’re how God positions us to bless others.”

This speaks to me in that I don’t have to be ashamed of my weakness–that God can use it to help others that are hurting. …  We can be so much more effective when we can pull from the depths of our souls the pains and trials we have suffered, and at the same time extend the hope that everyone deserves. We have a Savior to back us up.

and one more

I am trying to work on my own struggle to overcome my culturally acceptable addiction to wealth (often glossed over as “practicality” or “security”) with a theology of enough.

eesh. That is what i need to get better at doing. I’m not making any money this summer, except for Keola. And I’m not quite sure how that is going to work out for me. I feel really at peace about it, but i don’t know if that is laziness or just the way it is. I have a job in Spokane, itll bring me like 500 over the semester. i think i need another job, but i want to do World Relief too. I dunno. Money would be good for that. but i dunno. money. so gross. i want it not to be necessary. thatd be bomb. i don’t mind working.

LOVE is the answer. even when i’m not quite sure what the answer is. I feel like I have been out of the way of Love for a while now. And I don’t know why I’ve been so bitter and angry and notLove. but I want to be different. I want to Love these kids that come running into firm every day. i want to love my family. i want to love my friends (i praycried for a few of them today. i haven’t done that for a while). i want to grow up to be a Truth speaker in Love. I have disengaged from that, and a lot of other possible aspects of what i think my calling is. I need to press in. onward and upward!!

Love. love love love.

and not get distracted and caught up in whatever else there might be.

LOVE

Dear Daddy,

I know you used to read this, and that really kinda freaked me out for a while, but its surprisingly late for me, and today has been a teary sort of day, so forgive me if and when i probably offend you and make you go defensive.

Daddy, I stumbled upon Jamie’s blog today. I read like the past 5 or six months. Probably more. Daddy, I know you love her. Just like Dr. Bernstein said, I really have grown to a place of acceptance without needing approval. Its the way it is.

Daddy, I still want you to be My daddy though. I saw the pictures from the cabin. When you went with all the fucking people in her family. And I wasn’t there. And Kyle wasn’t there. I saw the pictures from Thanksgiving and God knows when else. And Nates there, and Kims there. and Everyone is happy and smiling in your pictures.

There is one picture of me Daddy. There is one picture.

And I look chubby in it.

I hate how much weight I’ve gained over the past year.

I don’t know if normal 19 year olds talk to their fathers about that sort of thing. I wouldn’t have any opportunity of knowing. And yes, I guess I am still hurt that you left. and yes, I still feel like you just replaced your real family with some pseudo-ready made smile for the camera family. I know moms no fun. I live with her still, remember. I know shes stubborn and bitchy and not very consistant. Guess what? She’s worse by herself.

The stress of Kyle and raising Kyle is too much for one person to do. Its just the two of them there. i’m doing the normal thing of going off to college. but I’m also the other parent. I get to raise Kyle too. I get to talk to him. (I love him, but its my job to be a sister not super-Parent). I get to listen to him cry. i get to hear him rant. and I get to encourage him on his homework. And I get to try and pull him out of his bad days. and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I imitate mom more than I would probably like. Dad, do you see him on his bad days? They scare me so much, and all i want is to save him. But I CAN’T. and it hurts so bad.

After I talk to Kyle, and usually before. I talk to Mom. She tells me her side. She tells me how hard shes trying. Sometimes I think she runs her parenting decisions by me for validation. I don’t want to be a mother to my mother, dad. You wanna know the one thing I hate more than anything else on this planet? Hearing my momma cry.
How do you manage to do it so consistently to your mother? doesn’t that make you want to die inside?

I don’t understand what alls happened to me Daddy. I know that there are a lot of people in this world who have gone through a lot worse. With that in mind, I still don’t understand how it is humanly possible to cry this much. Have you seen me cry? did that make you cringe and hurt inside? maybe it only hurts you when Jamie cries.

Dear Daddy. I don’t believe God’s promises for the future. He loves me enough to let me see him and feel him in the now enough that I can look back and see him in my past. I am alive Daddy. Your son is alive. You can only thank your God for that, because if we had had our own individual ways, i can tell you our blood would be long stained on that hardwood floor upstairs.

Daddy. I tried really hard to make it home tonight for the movie. I drove safe. I drove in control. I even checked my oil. All the stuff I thought I was supposed to do. I woke Kyle up out of a stupor. He was pretty depressed. I tried everything I could to make him better, if just for the next 12 hours, so he can pass his SATs and do well tomorrow morning. I got him up and talking and changing his clothes. We were in the car, we were studying. He backed out at the last minute, but instead of seeing if anything was wrong, or how my trip was or if the car had been fine, you told me maybe some other time.

I know you can’t read minds, but I really wish that you could have invited me over to eat. Or called me later. Or checked on Kyle. I know you’re probably sore because we spoiled the event you tried so hard to plan. But we’re sorry.

Maybe some other time itll work out better.

i’m sure time with your family was fun.

fuck you dad. Daddy. daddy. daddy. why am i still crying over something you’re so clearly over?

Home without purpose

Going to Whitworth makes it really easy for me to know theology. or debate theology.

Coming home to Fresno makes it really easy to not think

My Jesus doesn’t want either of those options for me, I don’t think.

When I was in Seattle I went to a seminar on Rhythms of Grace, taught by a truly graceful woman by the name of Christine Sine. She quoted the Message, in Matthew 11,

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly

That light and free living, sounds like cs lewis’ dance from Perelandra. The dance we were created to be a part of. When I am dancing well, I feel like I am glowing. I am filled with joy and understanding and wisdom and can bear grief so much better. I don’t know that I’ve glowed recently.

I talked to my mom recently about depression. My beloved KyKy is on medication for his depression now. she thinks i might be better off and happier at Whitworth if I maybe tried them too. She said I could try it for as short of a year. My immediate response was No. NO no no. I had a visceral response. The only reason I could come up with was that Kissel told me not to. Kissel says thats part of life, learning to deal with what comes your way. Kissel says that if you turn to medication to make bad stuff go away, the next time something bad comes, itll just take more and more to make it disappear. we build up tolerance, and then we crash. just like caffeine or any other drug.

Why is it okay for Kyle, supported for Kyle, even encouraged for Kyle, but I don’t want to think about the possibility for it for myself? Kelly and I would talk about depression. I’m so hierarchical. I looked down on her for being a year younger than me, but was it only because I didn’t want to think of her as an equal in this relationship so she couldn’t conceivably be equal and therefore rival in any other?

I’ve hung out with Stuart 3 times since being home. I get desperate to get out. Logans busy doing Logan things. I wonder if he’s happy. He seems pretty carefree whenever I talk to him. or maybe touchy if I criticize. I’ve climbed down a lot of high horses since high school, and now i’m so much more conscious of being insecure. I don’t know that I love him like Jesus loves. I don’t know who in my life I love with the love of Christ. I don’t really feel the love of Christ in me much. except for small nanoseconds like when I started this blog.

I miss the security of Christs love. for that matter I miss the security of Stuarts love, not gonna lie. He doesn’t love me any more. It intrigues and astounds me how that boy moves on and shuts off. Not that he should be madly in love still. but its the whole distance even from any memories. i’m perplexedly impressed and almost jealous of those skills. except when he hugs me goodbye. I can’t quite figure out how calculated he is being, or if our hugs are just naturally doubling every time. it still feels really good in his arms. resting my head on his chest. he’s a good height for hugs.

Its also kind of ridiculous that I can’t even talk about Jesus for one whole blog without getting distracted. I don’t know what the relationship is between my depression and my Jesus. I know that he used to make it better, but there are two halves of me fighting a completely different fight, to which Jesus has somehow become irrelevant. whether to believe that science and psychology and brain chemistry can change me (not heal me, but help me yes) or to believe that its all in my head and I’ll get through it just fine, and I’ll learn to cope and deal and grow stronger. And I’ll keep blogging and thinking and analyzing and figuring stuff out. And somehow that will make me happier. Because I guess I’ve come to the conclusion that happiness does matter. and I do want to be happy. and i’m not happy at whitworth, most of the time.

At Whitworth second semester: My highlights were CiC every Tues night. That hour was always well spent. And getting offcampus whenever possible (not the dinner dates tho or roomie times or group events…) but gardening. and that time at the coffeeshop while josh walked around and talked to jesus and bums and i feverishly wrote my essays for the scholarships. and I loved time with the refugee family. and I loved babysitting. and of course my Family time. and generally Church. well. I always love Church, but sometimes at Vintage it was just church. not because of Steve or the sermon but the company time after. we kinda suck at being a loving community with each other. GAH! not gonna get into that.

its time for me to go. my brother needs my computer so he can work on his english paper so he doesn’t get a D. maybe more later.

pray for me? if you’re reading this.

Though you know not whither you are bound, may you know whence you come

Feb 25, Origins, African wisdom for every day.

Houseless. foundhome.

I find it funny that I have been more myself this week than I feel like I have been for a while. I was houseless for the week. Sleeping outside in the cold (woke up with snow falling softly on my face the first night). Asking other people for food. (No one ever refused). Spending a lot of time huddled. Spent a lot of time in public space (Whitworth makes me happy). And I laughed a lot. The things people said were truly funny. (perhaps due to a lack of sleep). We had a beautiful community of about 30 people (and some dropped out halfway through). We met every night to talk about the day. The good stuff. the bad stuff. Stories. the Happies and the Crappies. We napped in public places. Stole food from fancy Whitworth events. Some people sustained themselves by eating off the trays that people had deposited in SAGA. Once again: Beautiful. Our most pressing concern was always sleep. The warm places. The cool places. The soft places. The dark places. The windy places. the sheltered places. Some freshmen girls from Tiki took it upon themselves to bring hot water and cocoa and cider around midnight every night to whoever they could find.

We cuddled at night. For warmth of course. But it surprised me how much I miss having a body nearby when I sleep. I sleep so much more soundly (that might be due to how tired i was). Kristen my new friend was a very good snuggler. The last night i spooned with someone I probably shouldn’t have, but he and I have covered our asses and hopefully that won’t be turned into something bigger than it was (ps. it was truly nothing)

And then I came back to reality. or real life. or whatever you want to call this carefree warm world of dorms and cafeteria food whenever you want. I have my laptop again, freeing me to continue working on this paper past midnight when all the buildings on campus are closed. I slept in my bed last night. Wasted six hours of my life watching movies last night. Listened to my insecure roommate try to reestablish the old relationship with her boyfriend Tyler (who also did the houseless challenge). I have stopped loving her, I think. And I think if I was more servile, it would bother me more than it does.

I wasn’t super close to Jesus in the traditional ways this past week. In fact, I’m still somewhat disillusioned with his followers since spring break. But, I lived in the trust and knowledge that I would be taken care of. I read the sermon of the mount on Wednesday, and I smilingly understood when I read the part about the lilies of the field. Whether it was from an unspoken inherent dependence on God, or a knowledge that the sphere of the world I was inhabiting was truly safe, I did not fear during the week. I was fed by others. I was encouraged by others. My community and I grew together. And somehow that picture of the Kingdom was more than enough to sustain me, even without the vocabulary attached.

I don’t really like it back in the easy life. I want K-Jo to see more to life. Or maybe just for her to see it like I do. big smile, I know I’m biased sometimes. I am alive. I am treasured. I can laugh freely in Christ’s Kingdom. I am not dependent on boys or male approval or any of those other things (Katie Petitt and I decided that my relational hopes should be looking forward to SA since they have eluded me so far on campus. lol. i’m hoping that there is some magic formula that some male will have inhaled so that I will find him mature, non-awkward, passionate and more. KP has her David here, so I think she might live vicariously through my dreams)

That night we slept fitfully in her car, Katie and I talked about dreams, and disappointments, and hope. How good we are at having high expectations and being upset when they aren’t fulfilled. We talked about many things. It was good to see an independent mirror of my heart.

The days went by painfully slow, but looking back, were so incredibly full (of blessing). I still had classes, still had homework. It was slightly more awkward to try to do hw, but at least, I could always leave to a more quiet place. I was unapologetic about that sort of thing, unlike if I was in my own room.

On days when I had water aerobics in the morning, I carried my swimsuit with me, waiting for it to dry so I could put it back in my backpack with the rest of the stuff I was carrying. I spread my bright pink towel over the fake trees upstairs in the HUB, with my speedo one-piece awkwardly hanging underneath.

I did most of my homework on one of the two computers upstairs in the HUB. Near a circle of couches upon which, generally, one or two of us were napping at a time. There were piles of baggage whenever two or more of us had gathered together. We were also unapologetic about that. (interesting metaphor that I might extricate further) We easily shared the food that had been donated to our cause, and at the end of every meal period, we usually had leftovers. Duvall had a prayer labyrinth one night, and donated their leftover communion bread and grape juice to us. We had delicious Jesus for breakfast for the next two days.

It was easier for some to ask for food than others. Kyle Navis as of Thursday hadn’t asked for food once. Some people took up fasting, while others (myself included) ate more than we usually do in a week. I had two blatant requests for food. and one coffee begging. I asked this girl Caroline, who I vaguely know, to buy me a Luna bar for lunch one day, which she did, but was somewhat gracefully confused about. And I asked Josh to buy me a muffin (more to see if he would or not than for hunger reasons…. is that bad?) He bought the muffin reluctantly, and definitely took three bites out of it before he handed it over. Silly boy. Maybe I’m judging too harshly (I know, probably shouldn’t be judging at all), but that boy is selfish even in giving to hungry people he knows. And just to exonerate/sanctify myself further, I will add that I went back to our group huddled around the fireplace and shared that chocolate chip muffin with everyone there.

Another funny Josh story. On the first day I was sitting in Lied Square (the lobbyish area of the HUB), and Josh comes awkwardly out of SAGA (after passing me earlier without greeting) and asks if I’m doing the Houseless Challenge. I say that I am, and he thrusts a banana at me, then walks away quickly. I’m a little upset about this abrupt interaction, especially the lack of actual conversation, until I hear as he walks out the door “Hey! that’s my roommate!” Tyler had been completely snubbed and ignored, while I had only partially been. Apparently what I experienced was the perks of having dating the interesting character of Joshua Steven Jensen.

I think, if I wasn’t going to be in South Africa next year, I would try harder to be inconspicuous. I would try to see if I could get people to feed me without me telling them I was participating in the Houseless Challenge. I would come up with reasons for carrying my various articles with me, or I would bring less stuff, and just have a normal backpack. Or I would try the fast thing a little more.

I love Whitworth. I love that Communities in Crisis (the club that sponsored this event) exists. And that there are other people who are attracted to things like this, and that we can experience and attempt to understand together. It would be interesting to see how much further this could be taken. (While still understanding that homelessness is so much more than our one small vain attempt). With more time it would feel less like an adventure, less like a camping trip, and people would probably get tired of feeding us. we’d also probably figure out new shortcuts, get better at depending on each other, and grow even closer. We’d build more permanent structures. We’d smell even grosser. And I think it would be an even more breathtaking picture of how we’re supposed to live as Christians.

Race

White people suck man. like really.

I feel like this semester has primarily served to floor me with the great sins of my forefathers. Between The Autobiography of Malcolm X (by the way, really not that revolutionary. definitely played up substantially by the media. kinda like Rev Wright’s statements have been as of late), Native Son (by Richard White), and learning about the Black Atlantic world in Literature of the African Diaspora, I am truly ashamed to be white. I don’t think this is the intention of any of my teachers, nor the point of any classes. Lies My Teacher Told Me has also been instrumental in helping me see the ways I have been truly kept ignorant. We talk about racism a lot in my Multicultural American Lit class. It fits in quite well, with just about everything in life.

Even on campus, I’ve been much more aware of it.

And even if it isn’t blatant racism, theres still a lot of racism in the system, or else we wouldn’t look the way we do. My theory behind racism is that you should be interacting so personally with all the people around you, no races should be excluded, and you’ll know that you have truly succeeded when it takes a survey to tell you that there are no differences in the white and non-white experience wherever you are. that you wouldn’t know off the top of your head when someone asked you, you’d have to think about it, and then not be completely sure…

I don’t really have any other profound thoughts.

oh. to add to my first paragraph list:

in LAD, we’ve learned a bit about colonization of the African coast (and the religious colonization as well), the trans-atlantic slave trade, slavery in the states (including black slave-owners), the oppression that comes from the double conciousness of the black experience all over the Americas (not just US), and now we’re moving to South Africa to deal with Apartheid. Fucking white people. At least the apartheid is less divided along racial lines. Granted I doubt there were many pro-apartheid Black or Coloured protests, but at least there was white participation in the anti-apartheid movement.

And then the situations of the black ghettos… truly break my heart. well. maybe not truly. because even from reading from multiple perspectives, i doubt i even begin to grasp the correct concepts. or the complexities of it all. or the desperation that must ensue from hopelessness. shit man. shit. if i was less lazy i’d pull out some of the books i’m reading as to grab quotes.

i’m ready for some fighting. some protest. some Cause. Don’t know where I’m going. Don’t know where I’ll end up. Don’t know what will sweep me off my feet. Or if I’ll slowly fade into NormalLife, find NiceGuy, and settle down. i’m sure i’ll be loving people. probably working with kids. but is that settling?

next possible post: GENDER (and why i hate being female/being defined by ovaries/breasts)

i want a boy damnit.

i want a boy thats gonna love me as much as stuart did.

i want a boy thats not gonna give a shit about the unimportant stuff like stuart did

i want a boy thats gonna do what he wants

and what he wants is gonna include me

i want to be wanted.

i want to be happy for kelly finally having a boy who’ll treat her right. i just wish it wasn’t stuart.

i want to be done with this already. i want to stop continually going back and remembering. i want to have different fresno memories. different airport memories. different cooking memories. different window memories. different driving memories. different fingers on my right hand. different ice cream memories. different funny stories to tell.

and i really don’t want kelly to go on that cruise to ensenada. probably nothing i can do about that one tho.

whelp. the truth is out. i guess i’m not quite as okay as i thought. and i told her.

next step. get over all these emotions, so i don’t pull a becca on kelly. 1) don’t get involved in her relationship with him. 2) don’t be friends with him outside of her. 3) don’t make her feel bad about her relationship with stuart. 4) don’t talk dirty with her about my relationship with him. 5) don’t require innocent late night hanging out from him as a antidote to a stupid decision 6)don’t enter in abusive relationship to escape jealousy issues. 7)don’t be there for him after they break up. 8) don’t …

i think i can handle it.