a funny place

i started this one a little while ago, in the thick of papers. it's still relevant...

i'm in a funny place. it's a place where the inspirations are so built up i'm afraid they may fade. do you ever get there? it feels like this...
i want to write a song...but i really need to do my paper
i've just watched a warm and wonderful movie...but i don't know what to do with it but sit here and smile for a bit
i want to take on the world, see it one awe-inspiring bit at a time...but i have class on monday
i want to sleep out in the park under the stars or go walk around the city all night...but it's cold, and i have work to do tomorrow and really, it's probably best to just go home
how do you find that space between responsibility and spontaneity?
between what "makes sense" and what makes experiences?

reconciling

I realize the last couple of pieces i've been writing have been embarrassingly bad, almost insensitive... and it seems like a lot of my conversations in the past week have been the same.

thus is paper season.

So I'll try and make up for it. lately i have been feeling cynical about my hours spent on facebook. and my resulting bomb of a personal life as a result.

I think that everyone has two personalities; The paper self, which is a description of yourself as a person, or maybe the person you would like to be, that you sit down and type. with socializing online you type up this description and say "this is me".

Then there is the real self. the person that you do not see in yourself. the real self is what your friends see in those few moments where you let down your guard, and stop trying to impress everyone.

if you live online, or try dating someone online, you miss the big picture. everyone has those weird quirks about them, these strange and insignificant habits that make you unique. say you make a weird sound when you eat, or you walk a certain way, or you have lines in your eyes that you get from feeling sad.

i dunno. its the small things that your friends notice... that is what is most beautiful about a person. its the stuff that doesn't fit into small description boxes.

but i could be wrong. on a minor note, i am having trouble with relationships. lets talk about it this week.

on an even more minor note, i had to re-format my computer and I almost lost everything... ten page papers, poetry, and music. someone up there likes me.

later.

today i left jesus standing in the street.

quality time

it's almost that time.

that christmas time.

now...i'm not one of those ladies who goes to town decorating every inch of their house and is on a mission to get all the perfect gifts (handy hint: buy all next year's gifts on boxing day! your friends will hate you 'cause they can't ask for stuff next november, but you can rest assured they'll be pleased with the thoughtfully selected and prepared trinkets in the end and you get to spend weeks stress-free, walking in soft snow rather than through store stampedes.)

but i do like certain traditions. i'm repulsively nostalgic, which you probably already knew.

lefse.

if you don't know what that is, your life is meaningless.
(same goes for if you're only familiar with the icky kind and not the cream kind.)
but maybe i can make you some.
(i'm coming to visit most of you next week, so maybe it could be one of our fun activities?)

my grandma and i make lefse together at christmas. those are some of my very favorite memories. i have a lot of good memories of my grandma. she stays up late and is crafty and clever and bakes a lot, so we were always two peas in a pod. we never really set out to discuss any given thing when we make it, and a lot of the time is just spent in silence, the sounds of the rolling pin and brushing hot flour off the griddle...but usually towards the end when we're finishing and folding it, sitting around the table making a great sugary mess and nibbling on the scraps, we've fallen into a delightful conversation about the way things are or could be or might be. mostly though, we just enjoy each other's company. me, smiling as she measures the salt in the palm of her hand, and her, stopping to gaze at me and say "your hair--you look like mother when she was young."


mmm...i also really love listening to "i celebrate the day" in the dim christmas glow when everyone else is sleeping, and looking out the windows at the snow coming secretly down at 1am, and going for walks in knee-high boots through alleys full of fresh powder at 3am...i guess the majority of my best christmas activities take place in the wee hours. it's nice to have time alone with God like that, when you feel like he came tossing pebbles at your window or like you conspired to stay up late together and sneak out...

so. i guess i found out at michelle's a while back that my love language (receiving-wise) is time...so i can't really say that it's the same kind of commodity for everyone...but i think it's safe to say it's a wonderful gift. i hope you know that your presence is valued, dear reader.

spend some time this week.
and save a pocketful for me. ;)

The zoo that is Vancouver

There has been something growing in me ever since i moved to Langley over 2 months ago. Something restless... something that, if given the right opportunity, will burst forth and consume me in a glorious act of savagery and basic instinct.

Now this may sound rather absurd, but let me tell you as story that sort of expands on the idea.

Last week a few of us (fellow school people) decided to take the skytrain into downtown Vancouver. It was interesting to hear the different comments from my friends as we moved along the track closer and closer to the enormous buildings and large crowds of people. We would pass through a more industrial area of the city and the comments of how ugly the city was would be announced. But then we would cross over a river and a completely different mindset would overcome them and they couldn't help but voice how beautiful it was. This was further shown as we mingled with the joggers, dog-walkers and couples that were strolling down the walkway at the edge of the harbor.

Hundreds of people trying to get out of the city... and yet only making it a block or two from home.

Look around you. People everywhere are simulating nature through the use of potted plants, photos of peaceful meadows or interior decoration made up of soft browns, greens, florals or even wood paneling that is the barest hint of what everyone is trying to imitate.

We continued down the walkway and came upon the most blatant example while walking beside the metal giants that make up the high rise apartments of the Vancouver elite. On the very top of one such giant was place an unusually large tree. Now I've heard of bushes or hedges adorning penthouses... but this was a full grown tree.

This phenomenon is everywhere. Watch TV for an hour and count the number of commercials where companies are trying to sell their product through the use of nature as a stimulant. The vehicle that can climb mountains, the woman swimming with the alligator that is trying to sell lotions or the soft drink that helps people surf or outrace some dangerous animal.

I continually see people searching for something that they don't have. Sure you can quench that thirst with a potted plant or a picture of a setting sun... but you know it's not enough. Even if they get the umph to get out of the city and try to indulge themselves with a little camping... they bring their home with them in the form of campers, EZ-bake food, renting a cottage or even bringing a TV along with them.

Everyone has this animal inside them. It may be hidden to some, but it's still there... stuffed under the hurry of society, the need for things and the comfort of comfort.

It's most likely the prairie in me and the fact that i lived the majority of my life with the outdoors right outside my door, but i honestly don't see how anyone can live in a city for any long period of time. It just doesn't feel right not being able to let loose every once in a while.

We originated in the garden... it's only natural to want to return to it.

017//peace and quiet.

Here are two separate stories, but try to find the subtle connection between them.



Most nights after a long day of classes, my roommate Rob and I like to head home, maybe cook up some rice, and sit on our mac's for a couple of hours, before the homework starts. On the occasional, hungry, day, Rob and I like to stop at one of two places. If it's a warm day: Dairy Queen (we're suckers for blizzards); if it's a cold day: Jumbo 2 for 1 Pizza (we're also suckers for amazing cheap pizza). This week was a rainy week, and Jumbo Pizza sounded so right. So we made our way across the city, to the loveliest hole-in-the-wall you've ever seen. When we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed that two girls were sitting at one of the tables inside the incredibly cramped eating area. We went inside, asked if there was any pepperoni and bacon up, to which we were asked to wait a few minutes. So we sat down at the window bar, and started reading the Vancouver Province that was sitting there. Within about ten seconds of sitting down, one of the girls behind us immediately struck up a conversation. It was pretty strange, most people are not outgoing to strangers, and truth be told, Rob and I didn't feel much like making new friends that day. "How are you guys!?" the one girl asked. We kind of looked over our shoulders, and unenthusiastically gave a sort of "fine" remark. I immediately noticed that there were some World Vision pamphlets on their table, and they were both wearing name tags. At first I was excited to have a conversation with these seemingly nice, potential World Vision employees. Unfortunately, things turned pretty ugly, pretty fast. Almost as soon as the girl asked us how we were, she spewed out, "We work for World Vision, want to sponsor a kid!?" At first I thought she was joking, because I mean who is that ruthless that they try to get people to sponsor kids while they're trying to eat dinner. Rob and I politely said that we were students, and that the truth was we couldn't afford to donate a monthly amount, seeing as we both don't have steady incomes. Rob also noted that his parents were currently sponsoring a child, which incited the girl to question how old we were. We paused and said "21", to which the girls responded by saying something along the lines of, "Well, you're old enough to sponsor your own kid." The honest truth is that I thought they were joking us. We kept declining, but they kept persisting. About two minutes into this "conversation", the girl decided to throw some low blows. "Well, you realize you could afford to sponsor a kid if you stopped drinking beer for a month, right?" Rob and I looked at each other, and responded, "You know, we don't drink all that much." (Rob doesn't at all!) The girls laughed, and said, "Well what if you stopped smoking pot!?" I started to become a little frustrated at this point. "We don't smoke", we said. The girls laughed and said, "Oh, we thought that's why you were here. Eating pizza, got the munchies!" Stupidity and arrogance are not an attractive combination. The girls then continued to tell us how they sponsored kids while they went to school, and how if we were low on cash, we should try to get a job at World Vision. "The high-rollers make at least $15 an hour!" After fifteen minutes of flat out rejection, the girls finally got the point that we were not going to buy one of their children. After we left the restaurant, we tried to figure out what had just happened. Is doing something good, through a dishonorable means, still a good thing? What does it mean to give with a clean heart?

---------------------------------------------

As we were about to leave the parking lot, we noticed that this guys' car had stalled, and that he was pushing it by himself. It was already pretty dark out, and people were speeding by him pretty fast. Instinctively, Rob and I knew we could give him a hand, so we parked the car, and made our way across the street. By the time we had got to him, he had managed to get the car into a parking lot across from the pizza place. We introduced ourselves, and the guy (Willy) asked if we had some jumper cables. Rob ran to his car to look, and I ran inside of the coffee shop we were by. Rob didn't have any, and neither did the coffee shop. I made my way into a grocery store beside the coffee place, and started politely asking people in lines. It's surprising how many people don't have jumper cables, or perhaps, how many people don't feel like lending out their jumper cables to skinny boys in purples zip-ups. Rob had made his way back to the pizza place, where there was now a large group of World Vision employees (they had all been going door-to-door in the area) inside of Jumbo Pizza. According to Rob, when he asked if they had any cables, they suddenly began to act as if the tables had turned. We didn't sponsor kids from them, but now we need them to do a favor for us? They told him they didn't have cable, without a second thought. All tangents aside, I found someone who had some, and we made our way to the car. It turns out that Willy had some in his car, and we didn't need the kind man's who had offered. Rob moved his car over beside Willy's and they were charging up the battery. With enough juice to get him home, we shook hands, and he told us something that I will never forget.

"You guys really saved me tonight."

trying to figure this out

Karl, buddy. good to see you writing again. much dialogue, and heated argument, is needed between our two schools. or maybe just friendly conversations over hot chocolate.

The thing I like about this community i live beside is the emphasis on being human. Too often i feel like "christian communities" put too much emphasis on "movings of the spirit" and less on my friend who feels lonely because his dad left at age 13.

I think that community should be more about who we are. A person can say to me "God's doing all this in my life, i used to be addicted to this and into that", which is fine... but I'd rather hear about how their day was, how they're feeling today.

When I look at a person I don't look at the years of pain, all the crap they got through. I see the finished product- who they are because of all that.

Finally, I think being human is less about trying to not make mistakes, and more about just messing up, feeling like crap some days... you know. being real.

I'm sorry about these random-o thoughts. I'm trying to pound this out before chapel. feel free to disregard, if not challenge me extensively, on anything i just said.

later.

I'm an Island

Independence is an interesting trait.

It is one characteristic that I doubt I could live without.

I find the "Lone Ranger" self-sufficiency very appealing.

Perhaps it is the Saskatchewan in me, or perhaps the farmer-ness, but having the ability to make my own way has an extremely strong hold on me.

Unfortunately, almost everything that I've been learning at school these last few months have been centered around community and the whole "No man is an island" jazz.

Things are clashing.

I don't like it.

I think thats good.

quickly.

i have a cool story to post with more time, but for now here are some links for your pleasure.

moments
watch the creation of a 100 moments, captured in polaroid pictures.

the new balearic
probably the best podcast on the internet right now.

freerice.com
like vocabulary games? like helping the hunger problem in the world? me too.

the take away shows
still the coolest concept i've come across as of late.

the sound of silence

as i sit in this coffee shop, on the eve of Remembrance Day, coincindentally trying to piece together thoughts about conflict resolution, nonviolence, and the global community, there is a hockey game on the television. they just had a moment for the fallen (the last call is such a moving trumpet piece). however, when usually there is a moment of silence, there was an audiovisual presentation.
without really being able to hear the context, it concerns me. have we become so short-attentioned/afraid of silence that we can no longer have it even as a part of Remembrance Day?
"the people bowed and prayed to the neon god they made..."

traveling mercies

I'm about three pages into my eight- ten pager, which i'm hoping to have done tommorow, and I have no idea what I'm talking about.

And I think that kind of sucks. I'm really lacking the emotional energy to put any personal thought or conviction into this thing.

Other than that, i think I'm doing fine. I spent a good solid 5 walking in a city instead of doing homework, and now it feels like i have less to do. Cities are good that way.

There is this ideal way of life i envision for myself- slowing working through assignments, slowly moving towards character developing, carefully feeling conviction for stupid things i do, and tactfully walking through the "feeling broken" aspects of being human...

enough to finish a paper and not feel like shit. live and learn/

Mostly, I'm just try to stay a bit balanced, so that I don't get overwhelmed by the details and tiny buggersome aspects of life. I think Anne Lamott sums it up perfectly- "Some people say that God is in the details, but I have come to believe that God is in the bathroom".

I would love to finish this thought, but I'm late for a meeting. Damnit.

to be continued.