not much

i work all day / i work all night
i am an automated girl
in an automatic world.

hahah.

but anyways, yah, it's commonplace for me to find myself acting like a machine lately.
i really do work a lot...2 jobs...hiring and training a new manager to replace me at the shop at the same time i supervise/wrangle a crew of semi-lost and fatally lethargic high school kids at the restaurant...which combines into one epic lack of anything very interesting to say.

i've taken to watching old movies in the middle of the night to remind myself what relationships (however fabricated) look like. but i'm not complaining--this is the first time in several years i've had to devote to mere mechanical performance, free of the yoke of education and expectation--it feels utterly delightful. (i won't lie though, i often carve out time at the shop or in the night-time for reading and i know i'm observing and theorizing--although not to my own stratospheric self-imposed standards--pretty much all the time...)

if all goes well, i may take the month of november off.
i've decided to decide between two challenges as i enter the upcoming "BC phase":
i am either going to
a) focus on relationships and love and vulnerability and all the human junk i back-burner
or
b) focus on avoiding other people for the most part and delving deep into the neglected caverns of myself

maybe a combo. b then a. yes. it's decided.

looking for love in all the wrong places

It always sends a deep hollow sorrow through my chest to know someone is playing a part in something beyond them...letting go of something before they even knew they had it...taking on something before they even knew it was there...

It really breaks my heart to hear how much random sex kids around here are having.

The ones I work with, they're always asking about Kalen being straightedge or being roommates with his girlfriend and about my past and present as well. It makes me sad to see the guarded disbelief on their faces when I tell them I don't sleep around, like I'm going to go "naaah just kidding! PFFF!" three seconds later. It hurts my heart to hear the things they say about each other and themselves.

I wish they knew.
I wish they knew they were loved beyond that. I wish they knew they could love beyond that.

I have a forever fight inside me, never quite sure who wins out...everyone talks (in this therapeutic, support-group saturated society...in the ministry infected by it..) about this "integrity" where you have to be an expert before anyone hears you out on something. eg: "if you're going to be a youth pastor and tell people 'how to raise their kids' then you better have kids before you start saying that stuff." I don't know. I think that's kinda bogus.

I am drawn back to the story of the woman at the well on a pretty regular basis. I love that story. I love figuring it out, finding new aspects of what went down there, learning beyond the Sunday School "living water" bit. Honestly, I just love how Christ walked straight into that encounter and loved her. No small talk, no bullshit, no judging, no avoiding, no polite overlooking, no minding-his-own-business. He just showed up, loved her, showed her the Truth, and gave her a new option.

I adore and dread this, because I want to be the kind of person who can show up and love you. Enough to let God show you the Truth and call you out of the shit you've unwittingly immersed yourself in. And, I mean, obviously I'm not Jesus Christ, so I don't exactly have the identical holy chutzpah with which to stroll up to strangers and exhort them...but, uh, isn't there a part in the bible where he passes this kind of thing on to us and oh I don't know...says we'll do even greater things? (see: John 14)

So shouldn't I maybe have the nerve to wish for an encounter? For the fifteen year old girl who just slept with her tenth guy--a friend of my brother's to boot--who's the "gossip of the night" among her "friends" at work to be the last one to leave tonight when I'm closing up? For the love to ask "what are you doing, little one?" and to tell her, "you don't have to.. you don't have to."

Oh God.

you got so much love in you

you got so much love in you
i'm amazed that i'm talkin' to you...

--Bryce Avary (The Rocket Summer)

i have a friend who's on a journey right now. but it's one of those journeys where you have to stay in one place to take it. i admire his perseverence though, because if i ever knew a wanderer, it was him.

we write each other often, and in his last letter he pondered beauty--not the kind you can see with your eyes but the True beauty that happens beneath all that. it reminded me of something i think of often and have been coming across in a lot of books i've been reading lately. we spoke of beauty only the Spirit can sense and i marvelled all over again that there is a convergence that goes unseen--the way the very Spirit of God can dwell in two different bodies and communicate with itself--commune with itself--between us.

can you even imagine the magic that is happening when we speak? can you see it in their eyes??
i realize being indwelt by the Spirit and the imago dei are different things, but all the same--both are indescribable. when is the last time you sensed your self had drifted away with the self of another and the Spirit richly drew itself into itself between an expanse as small as a few words? have you? wow i don't know if i have--that could be amazing! i hope this doesn't sound all sci-fi or something...i just mean to say that wouldn't it be crazy if we actually bothered to let the Spirit dwell richly in and among us??

i've been looking at people lately.
as long as i can remember, i never really did that. i'm not a people-looker (and most of the time they drive me nuts--when you can feel someone looking at you, like in the passenger seat of a car you're driving...annoying!) but...well it's also because i'm nearsighted and i just honestly can't see folks who aren't in my immediate line of vision so well.
but lately...i've been looking. i was just looking into the eyes of a man on a page, just a normal man, and he was smiling a smile that has slept outside a few too many nights and missed a few too many meals...and i lost my breath. because just there...in the dim twinkle of his right eye...was my Lord.



"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his throne in heavenly glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'

"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'

"Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.'

"They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?'
"He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'

"Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life."


--Mt. 25:31-46

the bed bugs

so when i finally acknowledge and accept my blog neglect, i am drawn back in.
(it's only because i feel like agonizing and deliberating over ridiculous things and i know no one wants to hear it in actual-life.)

so i'm a pretty low-maintenance / resourceful kinda girl, right--i "have" a cell phone but i don't know where it is most of the time (and i pretty much only use it for a clock anyways)...if you asked me to name my Top 5 Essential-to-my-Existence belongings i probably couldn't think of 5...i don't worry about things most people could have a hernia over at any given moment...i can usually make something out of nothing...i adapt fast...and i can sleep on any given surface.

okay so that last one is still true, but the thing is that my mom always couldn't believe how i slept on this wretched little rock-hard bed i had since i was a kid (kept me in good shape for sleeping on crappy dorm beds through college!)...so she secretly bought me a new bed last summer. disaster! so now i'm spoiled from sleeping on a super comfy bed for a year and the time has come to probably leave it behind...and that's hard! i'm totally prepared to prune away any of my personal possessions as i jaunt off into a simpler and sillier life...but my dear bed...it's the only one i've really come to love! it's my sanctuary. and that sounds completely dumb. but it is. it is the home for my cozy blankies and piles of pillows and overactive head, and a very versatile vessel indeed.

but then, i can hardly say any of this when i consider the one verse that has infected me in a way i can't even articulate...

"Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." --Matt. 8:20

not that i take this scripture so literally, (but sometimes it is part literal, and that simple part is the hardest part. y'know?) but when i honestly think about it, i could really care less and i would almost prefer sleeping in some corner or on an air mattress. in theory. hahahah. maybe it's psychological. 'cause mostly everything in my life is based on practicality (for example, today i wanted to wear my favorite jeans..but i had cut them off into halfpants for camp..but now it's cold..so i put on some knee-high polka-dot socks. i'm warm. but i look like an idiot. most of the time, warm trumps attractive.) so i suppose this nice comfy bed represents the only "extravagant" thing in my otherwise functional-fanatical life? i guess it's nice to have something...nice.

oh my gosh, i am the most ridiculous person i know. i hope no one is reading this. bahahah.
i miss the days when i said stuff that mattered.
i feel like an 8 year old lately. stating the obvious and wondering over obscure aspects of life.

gah. oh well.
anyone else have a "bed" they're having trouble parting with?

invitation to the future

in lieu of engaging blogs, i would like you to pretend all these empty days i should've been filling with great ideas and words were in reality filled with exciting walks and intriguing talks and a thousand laughs, alright?

because in all honesty, my words all left me to go find better company, and i just wish i could paint over blank days with brilliant presence.

in good time there will be lively frames for these silly speech bubbles to sit in. and you're cordially invited to join me in them.

until then!

stranger

not much to say.
so much to do.
a good quiet month.
and a coy smile or two.

Ladies and Gentlemen

I wish I could be a guy for a week. Or maybe be a series of different guys over the course of a week. I would like to perceive the world from that angle, because I wonder if they are like girls and there are different levels of sexual preoccupation or if it's just high across the board. I wonder if it would shock me. (either way).

The roots of this are in my moving-to-BC situation (what doesn't have roots in that these days). Rob and I were agreed that being roommates would be ideal and practical and fun, and not to mention: safe. Turns out his church leaders/bosses have a different outlook--which I respect and am more than willing to accommodate and hear out. Personally, I have no qualms about living with guys and I come from a family of very disciplined and loyal characters who make it a point in life to stick to our guns and beliefs. And I have a huge bone to pick with the "Christian culture" that puts more emphasis on hiding out from sin than confronting and defying it in Christ's name. This "spirit" of self-preservation is an evil one as far as I'm concerned, but that's a whole other story. If you think I'm a raging heretic, ask me about it sometime. I may or may not be making overstatements to offend you.

Now. Not to be a victim of my circumstances, I have decided to devote some time to figuring out whether or not I am just an ignorant secularized whore who needs the bible and a convent-apartment. 'Cause y'see, I will be the first to admit that I am a far cry from the pheromone-soaked girl who just blasted into the shop hunting for decals to complement the huge pink playboy ones she's putting on her car. Not to say I'm completely oblivious to the inherent sexuality that females possess--I've had over a decade's worth of thoughtful Betty Boop/porn star referencing reminders of the fact that I have curves, and more than enough teenage "suitors" professing their appreciation for older women--but I've made a point of focusing on a different Power in my life. And this focus I'm so used to by now makes me have to step back and squint when someone suggests I could be a threat to it.

I've been friends with several guys over the years, and I've never seen myself as a "stumbling block" to them whatsoever--I'm way too boring and plain for that kind of business. Aren't there certain girls that guys just don't think of like that? That are safe to live with and not dread? I mean, I read that Captivating book and "celebrated my femininity" and all...but I gotta say: it kind of offends me that I could be put on a shelf along with meth and internet porn. Just for being a girl. Surely not every person you set a drug in front of would be compelled to take it--surely not every male you could put me in an apartment with would have an irrepressable desire to be with me. Here is where we get to the great beast of Subjectivity.

Fair enough is a church's argument that co-ed living arrangements might not be an "appropriate witness" or could cause brothers to stumble, as such a circumstance might be construed as a gateway to sexual sin... But what about Christians taking jobs that pay ludicrous amounts of money? Isn't money even more dangerous than sex (see: The Bible and/or the actual founding force behind the sex trade industry), and yet there is no patrolling spirit in our churches discouraging the contexts that could serve as witnesses to riches and gateways to materialism. Ah, but we are much more willing to consider subjective situations when money is involved--maybe they will be good stewards and resist the temptation to build up earthly kingdoms in favor of charity and Christian influence! However, children, when it comes to sex let us just make objective blanket statements so we don't have to think too hard. "The fact is, boys have penises and girls have vaginas and obviously, 2+2=sex. What's that you say? He's a dentist and she has 6 credit cards? Well, let's hear them out."

(Just to clarify: These are just some overall observances about the modern church--no church in particular, should you think I'm being horrible and mocking Rob's church--like I said, I'd be endlessly happy to hear them out on their position.)

The bottom line is this:
I am trying to figure out whether or not I am in denial over my roles (chosen and not) in creation and this life. And I wish the church would do the same.

this is me at work.

so speaking of fake stuff, i have a fake engagement ring. i wear it if someone invites me to a shady pub/lounge and sometimes i throw it in my pocket on my way to work in case a creepy lingering guy stops in. is that totally weird? i think it's funny. and functional. mahah. (came in handy this morning! guys who come in shopping for sunglasses are never a good story and are always chock-full of lame anecdotes and quotes.)

i am so stoked on this weekend.
i've been used to summers featuring a decent amount of alone time with kalen and i working opposite shifts of each other and my parents being out at the farm. but this summer blair and marc' have been in town a ton and kalen and i were working days, so nights have been a full house of boys and loud movies.
but noooowww...kalen is moved up to regina, and blair and marc' have gone off on a bike trip to the states for an undetermined number of days...which means...two whole houses to myself!
i have all kinds of extravagantly boring plans brewing in my mind...
tonight i think i'll make spaghetti and actually get to eat some of it (usually kalen gets one whiff and pounces ravenously on it)...then i'll build my sweet fort that i wanted to do last night and watch The Sandlot...i think aaron's coming to visit tomorrow night, so that'll be cool to see an old friend again!...on saturday i think i'll go out to the farm and hang out for a while...we just got a bunch of saskatoons from the little place on the way there, so maybe i'll bake a pie and then scoop out all the filling and only eat bits of the crust...bahahah..(yep that's serrriously how i eat pie! haaate mushy filling!) ... it'd be fun to hang out there overnight but i think it's too scary to stay there all by myself, so maybe not. or maybe i'll just stay up all night watching movies and generating fear over sounds coming from outside? hahah. i think sunday shall be a "lost day" ... one of those ones where you forget what day it is and it seems to last forever. mmhmmm...maybe sitting outside reading and compiling my camp stuff.
this is going to be really great! i love summer...

* *

tuesday

i have a false book. it's one of those wood boxes that looks like a book. i put treasure in it and forget it's there. i suppose that's what this place is. except it's not treasure. just words.

today i miss someone but i don't know who it is. have you ever had that? where you feel the feeling of missing someone in particular but you're not sure just who it is? it's kind of fun because it's mysterious and it could be anyone, for any reason, and you could realize it at any moment.

dream world

i have a habit of tearing bits of pictures and patterns and stories and things out of magazines and tossing them all in folders for projects and presents and general junk that i indulge in later. same goes for treasure-collecting at thrift and vintage shops. i never really know for sure what i'm going to do with certain things, but i know it's going to be something special at just the right time.

i do the same thing with life. once upon a high school i wanted to be a dentist. (i know--sick!) ... but inevitably i fled from a future of mundane predictability and have been collecting a little mental folder of ideas for life, which i rifle through from time to time and piece together differently based on recent inspirations.

here is the collage i made this week:


"shaina's possible neat-o life layout no. 38"

own and operate a supercutesy little vintage flavored teahouse-bakery-sort-of-place, maybe in a little old house that is cottage-y...this would be very cozy in the winter and very breezy and sunny in the summer, maybe with some yellow doorjams and one-of-a-kind teacups collection and a lot of cookies and teensy little cakes and cuppycakes that i would decorate with sprinkles and real live flowers (well i guess they'd be dead)...umm...yep it'd be swell and sweet old people as well as rad young people would all hang out there and maybe we'd have scrabble tournaments and shows there? umm..yes and this would maybe also function as "home base" for a pretty gnarly and creative ministry that enlists/harbors/encourages/promotes local artists and writers and musicians and generally community-and-creation-oriented/appreciative folks..and everyone could hang out and visit and get into crazy heated discussions but also just sit and reminisce or stare out windows or make stuff with scissors and glue and glitter and love... and kindergarten classes could come there on field trips to help me bake cookies and then they could all sit around with cookies and milk and listen to me read them my favorite peter pan picturebook from england. umm oh and also, maybe i would just live upstairs or something and i could have a nice little sewing studio up there where i turn my thrift treasures into custom deluxe "couture" items for my dear friends and acquaintances (and inevitably strangers who hear about the rad junk i'm making and bring their own fistfuls of fabric and dreams to me...maha) that would be during most of the year, in a city, but not too big of a city, but not too little of a city. then during the summer months, i would retreat to my dear little ancient farmhouse in the saskatchewan countryside, where i would live "the simple life" (man, paris and nicole really ruined that phrase) and write stories and have a garden with a LOT of peas in it and picnics and build little boats to float on the dugouts and watch black and white movies in the middle of the night and sleep with all the windows in the house open.

wow. that sounds really good! i like this version. (oh and the end part, when i get old, i will move away, across the atlantic ocean, and live in a tiny cottage in the woods by a stream with a bazillion flowers consuming my yard/house and a rough-looking little wooden fence/gate that i may or may not build myself, near a little town where i will maybe finish the one story i will take my entire life to write and be that gregarious old woman who keeps the townspeople entertained during my sassy jaunts into town for milk and mail. ... and i will probably make them cookies too.)


*

enough of this silly stuff!

i get way too serious when i'm alone. i could definitely use a solid crew of friends around again and a bit of being fun! i'm really stoked for a change of scenery, an undercover life, space to change, people my actual age again, a decent cup of coffee, a book store, a movie theatre, spare time, snowflakes, new places to explore, midnight dinner, aimless walks, conversations with strangers, people who actually are strangers, not just familiar faces whose names i've forgotten...yeah, this will be good.

you'd be wise to doubt every word i ever said

my friend jennie tells a story of a "blustery day" that set the stage for an extraordinary moment involving polite strangers-passing-as-they-cross-the-street conversation. the miniscule comments on the weather suddenly became a scene from a musical as the nameless man went all gene kelly on her and burst into song: "come away with me!..." offering her his outstretched hand. what a magical man to create something so colorful on the grey day's canvas * * *

the story had a sad ending, though. jennie chose to deny her true self and rather than taking his hand, she just looked at him. oh the heartbreak--the loss--the muted magic-- ...

i suppose there is a seed of tragedy waiting in every otherwise lovely moment. waiting for you, for me, to crack it open and let its poison out because we dread the good that threatens it? i am not sure i would have taken the man's hand. a girl has got to be wary, afer all. maybe he is not magical--maybe he is a hunter...maybe he doesn't want to make her smile--maybe he wants her to make him smile...maybe he is horrible.

or maybe Someone else just wants them to make each other smile. maybe no one is the victim, no one is the winner, no one is anything at all. and if no one is anything at all, then how can you or i hope to become anything alone?

i am an epic loner. it's not a cultivated image that i bask in or flash around--it's not something i think is good. it's maybe just the biggest lie i buy. i stop short at armslength and i somehow dread everyone, what they think of me, what they want from me, what they don't want from me... and all of this is completely unfair to all of them. it's prejudiced and mean. why should i withhold God's blessings from them and instead offer them unsubstantiated judgements? and even if all they really are going to do is hurt me, i am not undeserving or immune--what makes me think i can guard myself against it? i am a silly, misled girl building fences where i should be planting flowers.

the sneaky shadow

have you ever had a friend who made your ribs run on ahead of you and your lungs feel like air isn't good enough? the kind of friend who made you soooo excited just at the thought of them (and just imagine, in their presence)?? ohhh i want that kind of friend again. what fun, what adventure! secret things and magic and hours quick like minutes if time actually existed and flecks of moonlight trapped in mischievous eyes and surprises that neither knew were coming but that the rest of the universe seemed to've schemed up all around them... ah, i think there's one out there somewhere...but where?! i'll keep my eyes peeled. sneaky, sneaky.

what i found there

ah, today they are taking away the last of the ancients.

two summers ago they took my old friend in pieces--took her apart and tossed her into the box of a shabby old truck. a very unregal escort for a classy dame such as herself. i mourned her woefully and held a makeshift wake with the window open, hoping johnny cash's sad song would drown out the chainsaw's ravenous howl for her.

i miss her silent splendor and the way she waited like a silver spectre in the summer nights for me, when stars forced light in vain to mimic her. she didn't even have to try, and they didn't look half so nice sprinkled on the velvet alone as they did sprinkled through her lovely hair. in the quiet hour i stood beneath her and gazed heavenward, knowing i could stay forever, not knowing that she couldn't.

i hear that old familiar tune, the song of doom and beauty's requiem again...the final stand.
her right hand is all that's left now, jutting like a skeletal farewell from the earth who just the other day whispered old invitations to come back to life.


and now what? the street makes no sense. the little ones will ask "birch drive? mommy, what is 'birch'?" and maybe someone will remember them. and i--i will find their dear old sisters and mothers and tell them of this urban tragedy i've seen unfold. and maybe if i ask, they will let me stay, and the stars will look right again..

brb

going outside.
be back someday.

" mirror, mirror on the wall...

...in the closet, down the hall
i think i thought i heard you fall...
turns out i wasn't there at all"


i know i knew me once before
(but it's been a long time since i've seen me around)
(around town)
(downtown)
(drowntown)


today i can't keep it a secret somehow
(my feelings and face finally aligned)(bad time)(ing) ?

he and he and she and he
caught a glimpse of absent me

i let them see
the thing i fear
hear
the whisper in my ear
but
what
we
want
is to be
homemade physicians,
cooking up prescription
alibis


( you: "so where were you last night?"
her: "she was with us."
me: *lying eyes* )


i guess i'm sorry
to've made you worry
but don't--
because despite what i've forgotten, i still remember
how to fold me
(or the lack thereof)
up neatly
and find my way to the closet
i can toss her there
among the shards
(that way it won't be so hard)
let's make this easy.
easy friendships.relationships.spaceships.
just you and i
into the sky
inside our shiny silver lie


count
down
.
.

*

going under the knife

this morning a breeze blew in, and something came riding on it. maybe it was an idea. or just an impression. but i think if anything, it was only a hint of it. like when you think you smell rain, but you can't see clouds 'cause maybe it's night and you wonder if you really even smelled it at all...

i remember when i was an RA, at least once a day someone would show up in my room asking for some completely random object--and i always had it. i think maybe one time there was something someone needed and i didn't have it. i've always been "that person"...the person who functions like a convenience store or like some kind of contraption that the dad off of Gremlins would have invented to meet every conceivable practical need (alright, and well, seeing as how it's me we're talking about, every ridiculously impractical need as well, eg: "shaina! i need a fluorescent fanny pack full of troll dolls...can you hook me up?" "you know it! i'll be right back!" *descent into the abyss that is the storage closet*)

so anyways, i've been sitting here considering my closet (and the room downstairs full of boxes of junk from years-gone-by that i've yet to go through one final time before leaving home base)...and i'm considering how i'm in this strange state of suspension, between who i've been in the past and who i'm becoming in the now/future. who i was (the convenience store/person who would never throw nostalgic or "period pieces" away because of the amount of times my mom said "i used to have that, but i threw it out" about really rad things, and who was a complete Ariel about collecting one of a kind treasures and hoarding them away in my life full of loot) is still somehow inside of me because i never really bothered to exorcise her. and now she is resurfacing as i consider amputating my treasure trove from my progressive existence.

want to know the first bible verse i ever read that actually tangibly convicted me? "do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven...for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

and i mean, i'm a different person now too. i don't need endless supplies of various things. i pretty much wear the same 8 pieces of clothing to the exclusion of all the "shaina" items that have ironically become very much "unshaina" as i've turned into a fashionably negligent hobo. (maybe i need to go on one of those makeover shows. where they secretly video tape you and show you later and all your loved ones laugh at you for being so lame and shiny strangers whisk you away to spend ludicrous amounts of money on ludicrously small amounts of designer clothing. YUCK! i honestly wouldn't be surprised if my mom or someone recommended me to them, but i honestly would give everyone involved a very big lecture about it. i wonder if they would air that?)

anyways, all that to illustrate how very strange it is to be your old self and your new self all at the same time and to try to figure out what parts of each you need to keep.

lately i've been disciplining myself to not think about the time beyond the immediate (quite yet). i have too much to keep in my brain for the moment, it's kind of a hand-to-mouth, one-day-at-a-time lifestyle for the time being. timetimetime. would you agree with me if i said that time is our culture's most valuable currency? mmmwell that's completely beside the point. but think about it. (not my idea by the way, i read it somewhere once).

but i've been sneaking in little moments where i indulge in the future, and they're kind of fun. this morning i even let myself briefly peruse a magazine that came for me while i was away and there was an article about vancouver in it (they always have an article about a city full of culture in each issue..usually american cities though). that made me wonder (as i had already been wondering while reading an old roommate's blog who thinks i should come live out there with her)...it felt kind of like a tap on the shoulder, like when you've had your eyes on something you're supposed to be looking at but then you got distracted when someone was like, "hey look at this!" (eg: a couple of friends lately saying "don't go to BC...come to ontario!"), and then the person you're actually supposed to be paying attention to gives you a nudge to get your gaze back where it needs to be. that's what that article felt like. i think.

then i let myself consider a little bit who i'm going to be and what i'm going to be doing in half a year's time. and that made me all the more excited to .. what's that word .. ah, prune. to prune my life. i think the treasure collector / practical princess inside of me has planted a tree and just let it grow to epic proportions, and the time is approaching where some edward scissorhands-esque action is going to be required. to take what i need, cut off what i don't, and let this life take some sort of shape.

i think that instead of being a multi-multi-purpose gadget, i just need to be a swiss army knife.

kill the seed

"an ode to passover"

nah, just kidding.


[ prologue ]

today was the first day of the year where i ran out the front door without even considering to consider whether or not to put on a jacket. that is always a good day. i also got to crack my first springtime opaque ice in the gutter on my way to my car. technically it's not spring yet...but it's close.

the other night, ashley and i had a blockbuster epiphany (i mean..it was in blockbuster) :
most 'holidays'...involve blood.
we had a very impressive presentation wherein we highlighted this fact numerous times.
"Easter? Blood. Halloween? Blood. Valentine's Day? Hearts--blood. Christmas? Bloodline. (and placenta)." (there was a previous discussion involving dogs giving birth..i'll spare you the details.) it went on and on. i was pretty impressed with us. i'm not sure vange and dayn were.

last night emily and i had a pretty good discussion about the Holy Spirit and about it being a foundation rather than a feature of a person. we talked about "self" and dying to yourself and how you really can't allow the Spirit to function properly if you're treating it like a consultant instead of an operator.

it's almost time to seed. my dad is a farmer. and i've been to bible college. so obviously, the concept of a seed needing to die to do anything productive is instilled in me. i guess it's kind of one of those cliche things that most christians are familiar with but probably don't take to heart as much as they should.

[ chapter 1 - death: i'm not goth--hear me out ]

so back to blood.

this time of year is covered in death.
depressing dead trees pressed against gloomy grey skies..brown grass matted with mud..farmers getting ready for the mutilation of the land and the mass genocide of their seeds..everything leading to Easter and the crucifixion..

what a perfectly good time to kill yourself.
well i mean, not literally. metaphorically.

[ chapter 2 - resurrection: not a horror movie, a love story ]

do you like putting an album on random mode? i do. it kind of gives you this feeling of someone else being in charge of what you are going to hear even though you chose the album you wanted to hear it from...almost like they could tailor it from wherever they invisibly are into a special message just for you.

do you like letting go of your life?

cigarettes'n'stuff

isn't it great how we're so prone to addiction.
we're so good at just getting hooked on things and buying into them to the point where we hand our lives over to them, the things.
and then one day, after a longass time of devoting all your time and resources to the thing, you stop and look back over it all and say to yourself, "did i seriously just do that?"

and who ever knows until it's way too effin' late whether it was worth it or not.
i'm one of those irritatingly content people who can usually swing any thing to seem like it was worth something in the end.
i just spent a week on a paper that i do not give a rat's sweet behind about. was that worth it? mmm probably not. i didn't really learn anything i didn't already know. except some stuff about chairs and ancient marriage customs. however, i did take a break tonight and write a few letters. i'm much happier about the 20 minutes i spent writing letters than i am about the week i spent writing that paper. i just spent 5 years and i don't even want to think about how much money on a degree. but i'm pretty sure it's useful for the most part. but there was definitely a lot of wasted time in there.
but i think i have a tendency to save up wasted time like toxic materials i'm waiting to detonate to make a really good point about something someday. so it probably works itself out.

the place between your heart and your head

is your throat.

that's kind of interesting, hey: the place where your words are made is the place where your heart and your head meet up. i think this is important and i just realized it. that's really cool though, because that really fits with what i've been thinking about this morning (and what i need to purge out of my mind to make room for the entire book i need to read today)...

"out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks"

or does it??
i used to have this accidental dissociation between what i really felt/thought and what my facial expression said i was feeling/thinking. but now that i think about it, it was probably just that i was putting my thoughts or feelings too much in my head and i just looked like i was thinking too much when really maybe i was happy or angry or excited...i think i got over that, but now it's turned into this thing where what i say is overflowing out of my head more than my heart. in fact, yep, i definitely remember saying a couple weeks ago "i usually don't let something out of my mouth until it's been in my head for a day." isn't that horrible!!?! i'm trying to figure out why i don't let things out of my heart so easily. in fact, if i were to adapt this i suppose i would have to admit that "i usually don't let something out of my mouth until it's been in my heart for a year."

wow. whoa. wow. okay. so i just looked down at the glass case beside me and noticed the reflection of the window and outside in it, where it is snowing these wonderful, electric, fluffy flakes. and this dull, upside-down partial reflection of an image through a dirty window is the perfect illustration God is giving me right now of what my love is like. it's not even close to being outside in the snow with it hiding itself in your hair and brushing past your face. it's dust locked up in a box forgotten in an old house. (i had a dream about an old house full of dirt and cobwebs last night. i just remembered that. hmm.)

i had a moment in there where i stopped and just listened to the music playing and the one line sung in my pause was "lose your head just for your heart." what an obvious morning i'm having--one of those scripted days. oh but seriously now, copeland. copeland. oooh. i don't even know what to say. i have been so absolutely dumbstruck and content since friday night. which is maybe awful but maybe wonderful. i won't let myself decide because i don't trust me with it.

their music has always just been this strange secret thing that has snuck past my defences and made me acknowledge things i'm hiding or trying to escape from. and my head loves it because it's such a one-sided conversation where my heart is not accountable to anyone because they're not really there. another awful admission of how my head gets me in trouble. i'm not living how i'm meant to.

and i wonder, have i ever really loved someone? i mean i know i love my family and friends a lot, but i can't help but feel like i've been giving them a lot of logical love. it's like--like living off your talents instead of your gifts. you can use the things you're good at to make a life and to make people perceive you as successful...i could use my talents to do an administrative job hands-down. but there's no passion there. on the other hand, you can choose to use the gifts God's given you (which often are complemented by your talents) and spend your life on something worthwhile, something that you are passionate about. my passion is Truth. and i'm probably going to say something about that in a minute. [feel free to stop reading..this is basically a novel..i suppose my blog is my new place to sort out my thoughts since life has switched from dorm days with jen analyzing ourselves to alone days at work analyzing myself]... umm but yeah, head love and heart love, talents and gifts...i apologize to anyone who is reading this because chances are good i've been giving you pathetic things i've pulled out of the dusty old forgotten box and that's no kind of good.

hmm so on the way home from copeland, karl asked me what my favorite season was. he said his favorite time is when it's changing from winter to spring. i realized as i drove to work this morning at 14km/hr. behind a street scraper that this (literally and metaphorically) is the time i am anticipating so hard when i let myself realize it. God i want to let my heart feel something and say something. last night i was thinking how interesting it'd be to take a vow of silence over Lent. i'm quite upset that at this point in time it's not feasible. i cannot wait to be done school. it seems to be the one thing in my way. hahah which is terrible to say, but honestly, it is, and it's the weapon i've chosen to amputate my heart and it's a heavy jacket i can't wait to take off.

finishing a degree...also the time to start letting yourself freak out a bit because you have no idea what to do next and it's that part of your life where you could completely forfeit it and send everything to hell or find out the right way to go and get on it. i don't think i've been freaking out over it 'cause i've got plenty of options and my passion for Truth and teaching and talking and junk is pretty flexible...i just haven't been satisfied because i had this nagging feeling that i was looking through a catalogue when i was supposed to be drawing something. BUT..i think a light (or just another bulb on a strand of christmas lights i'm following) came on this weekend at YQ.

there was a guy named Brett Ullman doing seminars and i went to a couple. the first was as if he'd taken everything crucial i've learned and been on fire about in all my years of college and in my own personal studies and condensed it into one amazingly effective and spectacular presentation on media/faith/culture. i was so stoked on it. and then i got to thinking. i would love love love doing stuff like that--seminars and conventions and presentations on being media-literate and culturally-aware. but then i got to thinking how it's kind of limited to stuff like YQ or bible colleges, and how people who really need to hear it and realize the impact this stuff is having on them and the potential it has to really screw up their lives, aren't hearing it (outside the 1 commercial they run on muchmusic occasionally about being media-literate)...and how cool would it be to join the masses of random characters who speak at junior high/high schools every year (motivational speakers, drug and alcohol-awareness, etc.) as a youth culture specialist who speaks on media and culture and all the stuff that our young people are buying into without knowing it? i don't know if i'm really saying what i mean here, but that's exciting because this is actually something i think i'm letting out of my heart on a whim...i would be so pumped to do that kind of thing! and like, doing similar stuff for parents and other adults who deal with teens...gah! i know for a fact people in that situation are totally hungry to know all this stuff i've learned and the things i study...i don't want to keep it to myself! i really honestly feel like this could be a huge open space just begging for adventure to be had in it...hmmmm.....

"it's a fight between my heart and mind .. no one really wins this time .. in the endless fight of grace and pride .. i don't want to win this time."

mahah...thank you again copeland for one more perfectly placed lyric i found in a pause :)
and thank you Brett Ullman for the lightswitch.
and thank you Kim for inspiring me to give an Oscar speech at the end of this blog.
and thank you all for graciously accepting my counterfeit love and not complaining about the dust i got all over it. i promise i'll give you something nicer soon.

<3