Autumn Relief

I am currently sitting on the second floor of the Ace Hotel, contently sipping my Stumptown coffee, textbooks and notebooks sprawled across one of their black tables, lit dimply by a single lamp. Fleet Foxes is playing over the sound system, and there's a steady hum of baristas steaming and making coffees downstairs. This is one of the things I look forward to most about Autumn and being in college. 

The last four weeks of my life have been filled with busyness just over the limit of being considered healthy. It's good to be busy and have things to do, but for the last month, I've gotten an average of five hours of sleep a night (for the regular me, eight hours of sleep is a minimum for functioning correctly in every-day life), have always had the next thing on my to-do lis in my mind, and have developed what seems like permanent dark circles under my eyes (good thing I have Bare Minerals!). I asked my mom a few nights ago if I looked tired, and she retorted lovingly with, "Um. Duh." Yeah, I'm worn out.

Last night, I wrote rules for myself. Other than Friday nights, I'm only allowing myself one day of the week out, and my personal curfew for going to bed is now 10:30. I also pulled out of a big commitment I've involved myself in for the last two months. Simply by doing that, a huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders. Also, my dear friend Avena is here from Seattle for a few days, which, in a weird way, has really relaxed me. Last night we had appetizers at Greek Cuisina, then went to Portland City Grill for sushi and virgin strawberry daiquiris. We walked the rainy city streets, took pictures, and got home late, but it felt good to be with someone who gets me on many different levels than lots of people. And now I'm rambling.

The moral of this blog is this: I've been worn out, I'm determining myself to not be so, I'm at the Ace, and am already feeling quite relieved.

Boom.

New Find...

Oh man, have I forgotten the glory of discovering a good book!

Recently, I posted a status update on facebook saying, "Anyone have any good book recommendations?" I have always loved reading, and I often take (a little too much) pride in my growing library at home, but in the last six months or so, I simply haven't gotten around to reading anything outside of the Bible and textbooks. And now that Autumn has arrived with its brisk winds and turning of the leaves, I have especially craved finding a book that would pull me in and compliment me well with a blanket and hot tea by my side. Thus, I posted my status update and received a ton of responses (26 I think?). I simply had no idea which recommendation I should take, so I closed my eyes, twirled my finger around, placed it gently on my computer screen, and decided to buy the book my finger landed on first: Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. I bought it on Half.com, received it yesterday in the mail, and am now three quarters of the way through it. It's exactly the book that I've been craving. Hemingway has whit that makes me giggle out loud, Tozer writes with such thickness that I must reread each paragraph he writes in order to absorb it all, Sue Monk Kidd writes in a way that simply warms the heart, but Lewis in TWHF writes with the same drive and excitement that Tolkien exhibits in The Hobbit. It's that magical, epicness that leaves a wake in the reader's mind after the book is put down.

My plan last evening was to be in bed by 9:30, being that I'm trying to get over being sick. Yet, I didn't sleep until 11:30 due to my hands and eyes being glued to the pages on my new find...

Whee!

Scatterbrained 5

She doesn't even have any room to breathe.

Well, she's got some, 

but not much--

just a little jail cell window

with fresh air that comes through,

yet is quite close to the ceiling,

so it's unreachable.

And this inmate was meant to be released last year!

Crying shame, it is.

Though, 

she's made the best of it,

and often forgets that she's even bound up.

But, 

every once in a while,

she looks up and sees those gray, lonely walls,

as cruel as they are familiar.

She takes a good, hard look at 'em,

cries a tear or two,

then reminds herself 

that she's stuck for a reason,

even if she has no clue what the reason may be.

And again,

she goes back to making the best of things,

hopeful and longing

for what the future might bring...

Freedom?

Maybe.

But maybe

not.

A lesson?

(that can only be learned

by solitary confinement?

I've never heard of such thing).

But she tells herself 

there is such a thing.

And she goes on believing...

Autumn Term and Chocolate

And so the Autumn term has begun here in P-town, and the first week of classes has proved, yet again, to do what it has always done: clamor my long-time empty to-do list with too many things to reasonably complete in a week's time. Though, as much as the first week of classes always frazzles me up a bit, I completely and utterly love being in college. I love riding the bus here and being downtown. I love being on a campus that holds so many diverse people. I love studying in the park blocks when the sun is shining (the "park blocks" are a line of blocks that spreads the length of the city and are dedicated to grass, benches, statues, and very large trees, similar to, though not as romantic as, Central Park). And, I love learning. Yet, there are two things here at PSU that I have come to find will probably be the death of me: second-hand smoke and textbook prices. Both of these agents for my death that plague Portland State seem like a giant that can't be beat. PSU is known for commuters riding their bikes to school, saving gas and the planet from harmful exhaust emissions. Yet, so many people smoke within 30 feet of most building entrances that I've begun to have this yearning desire to bring a gas mask with me and put it on before I go outside. I guess we'll know if it affected me 30 years from now when I have lung cancer. That is, if I don't die from hunger first, being that all my money right now is going to textbooks. I will, Lord-willing, graduate in three years with a degree, but at the same time I'll also most likely be living on the streets begging for food. Ha.

On a lighter note, I had a nice walk yesterday. There's this great little chocolate place called Cacoa here in Portland, and on my walk yesterday after class, I discovered that they have a second, more convenient location (that's closer to PSU). Upon finding it, I burst in the doors, only to have the warm, glorious smell of chocolate wafted onto my face. This place is the best. They serve what they call "liquid chocolate" that is, for lack of a better word, divine. It's not hot chocolate, though it is hot, and it's not like chocolate syrup, though it is rich. It's something that cannot truly be described unless experienced first-hand. And for a girl especially, this place can be quite a comfort during certain periods of time in the year. 

Anyways, so I spent a good ten minutes in line to get a cup of this stuff. I was so excited, but then came to my senses and remembered that I am on a VERY tight budget right now (refer back to section on textbooks), and after a 2 or 3-minute brawl between my mind and my stomach, I finally decided to walk out. Yet, I had spent so much time in line and sewed so much into my excitement of getting this drink, and it was now my turn to order with people waiting behind me, I settled for asking the lady behind the counter what the hours were of Cacoa and if they were open on Sunday in a British accent. I love talking in a British accent with my friends to just be silly, but doing so in public with no one who knew me around, watching the sales lady's eyes perk up a bit upon my speaking, seemed to humor and satisfy me greatly...

All this nonsense to say, the year has begun!

(ALSO: I just bought Jared Anderson's cd called "People of Troy"...there's only ever been one cd that I can listen to over and over and over and it always seems new, and that's Chris Thile's "Deceiver." Yet, since I bought "People of Troy" on Monday, I haven't been able to stop listening to it, and, like Thile's music, there is something new I discover in each song every time I listen. If you were wise, you'd buy it on itunes NOW).

I Think I Forgot.

I think I forgot who, indeed, she was,

that light with the smile,

that heart to be proud of.

I think I forgot how she spoke and how she loved.

I think I forgot where her gaze was--above.

I began to think so

when I was looking at some old pictures.

They made me yearn for her,

made me miss her.

Where did she run off to,

and when did she go?

I guess I thought I'd be the one,

among anyone, who'd know.

But no, she left

sometime in the past,

and I can't recall

when I saw her last.

I can't remember 

when she made the switch

from full throttle forward

to stuck in a ditch.

But here I am now,

with a realization that she's gone,

and to be honest, I feel jilted,

left bruised and alone.

Without who she was,

I'm just a lame, old girl

with no dreams or aspirations

or good future in this world.

So I must search hard to find her,

and urge her to return.

Though I don't quite know how,

I pray that I'll learn.

It Would Be A Lie To Run Away...

I am awake. It is late. I can't sleep. I have to get up in five hours, so I can bike to church and get there by 7:15. That is not a complaint. I love biking. I love church. I love getting up early. Though, sleep would be appreciated right about three hours ago. This terrible curse of no sleep is probably due to the fact that I took an Excedrin at around 6 this evening, and those two wonderful and terrible, white pills happen to have loads of caffeine packed into them. Though, I have no pain in my head! Woot.

It's so funny to me how this culture tries to cure every little painful thing in life. I had a migraine today because I didn't drink enough water, biked all over town, and didn't eat lunch. I was stupid and didn't treat my body very well, yet I cover it up with a painkiller to hold me over until tomorrow. Maybe my body was trying to tell me something? Like, hey Emily, maybe next time you could actually eat some protein and drink some water. This way, I'm nourished and you won't get a headache--win-win situation! Yet, I cover up that wonderful message my body is trying to send me, and I learn nothing. Why is pain so avoided? When, really, it's through pain that we learn and become better.

Like pruning a rose bush. For two weeks after pruning, there's just gross, ugly stubs of green sticking out of the ground. But then, after two weeks, there are double the blossoms...

Or, like working out. "No pain, no gain"--a saying that echoes in my memory from my couch yelling at our cross country team in high school...

Or, even better, the cross. Without that pain, I'd be dead. Or, I would be alive, yet would not have much hope of ever being justified as a person, as an anything. Compared to His pain, my little problems throughout the days, weeks, months, years, are nothing. Like Jon Foreman, yet again, so honestly puts it: "Oh my Lord, to suffer like you do, it would be a lie to run away."

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

You still haven't found what you thought you were looking for,

and I am still waiting, 

patiently,

at the door.

You still run away from what you didn't want,

only to find 

it's just that

that you need.

Save Me From Myself

I am currently sitting in my new house. Last week, I moved out of my parents' house and into a house in Multnomah Village with five other girls, one dog, and one cat. It's a bungalow-type house, with a creatively foliaged back yard and a front yard lined with multi-colored rose bushes. The floor in the kitchen looks like a huge checker board, and the house overall has a Portlandy charm to it. I'm sitting in the front entryway/living room and have just completed cleaning most of the downstairs. I've been rather frustrated this week because on Sunday, I got a minor concussion wake-boarding and was ordered by my doctor to stay idle. My plan was to spend this week looking for a job, but have instead been confined to staying inside and going on small, slow walks. So this morning, I was going crazy and had to do something productive. The five other girls are all working, so I determined myself to clean the house. And so I have. 

Now, like I said, I am sitting in the sun-lit entryway/living room, listening to the hum of the washer downstairs (the basement) and the soothing snore of Rimky, the pug, and have just finished browsing over a friend's blog. His blog is one that I greatly enjoy reading, and he said something interesting that got me thinking a lot about my life:

"Maturity can't mean tolerating feelings you don't want."

Hmm. It seems that I've been tolerating a lot lately--a lot of unwanted feelings and emotions and unneeded worries and insecurities. I seem to convince myself regularly that my inability to change for the better is some kind of maturity, that instead of admitting to self-pity and pride, I pompously brush them aside and instead forget about them for a while. Like my friend said in his blog, "Maybe maturity looks very differently than what we're perceiving it to be. Maybe what we've interpreted as 'maturity' actually is nothing more than incarceration; resignation...retirement." Maybe my inability to care about ridding myself of these bad qualities is not the maturity I keep convincing myself that I have, but instead, a weakness in myself that I'm afraid to face.

Habits are a strange thing, and being rid of them alone can be quite hard. But why do I think I'm alone in all this? Why do I tell myself that there is no hope, when in reality, I have the living God who is ever presently by my side? Why do I stay in this place of desolation and hurt when I have the promise of salvation, now and in eternity, being spoken over me? I don't know why, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of thinking that I can somehow beat this fickle thing called sin all by myself. I'm tired of believing that I have the strength to fight through it...because I have only found myself with the option to fall on my knees and say out loud that He is the only one who can change my own heart. I think I know myself, but He knows me better. I think I know what I need, but He created me. I think I can do it all alone, but His fatherly character is waiting with open arms as I stumble and fall.

As Jon Foreman so honestly puts it, "Oh Lord, save me from myself."

Solitude is good for a short while. Then it becomes destructive after that "short while" period passes. And I don't feel like writing anything more on that.

You may figure it out, but you don't live in my heart, so you probably won't know it in its entirety...

It's no use trying to shove them inside.

They'll just resurface months down the road

and reveal secrets about you 

that you didn't want to know.

It's no use trying to run away or hide.

They'll eventually seek you out and find you

at the worst, most terrible time.

I, myself, swept them under the carpet.

I locked them in the darkest, deepest closet.

I put them in the safe of my heart

and thought no one would ever know.

I dug a hole and dropped them in,

shoveled the dirt of denial and covered them.

I believed with much conviction

that I'd never see them again.

But now it's months later,

and I'm faced with this sin.

This gross, decaying, disgusting sin,

and it dares to pop its head out

with a leer and a grin.

It dares to push through

my barriers built strong.

It dares to accuse me 

of being wrong.

Well, I am

wrong

in the strongest sense.

I just don't want to hear it.

I'm not ready for that yet.

I am

wrong

for not dealing directly

with the issues of my life

that are so infecting.

And now I have a choice,

I have a decision to make,

and I'm ready to be rid of it.

I'm ready to break.

I'm ready to face

the consequences of my actions,

and I'm ready to feel healing

as He disciplines and chastens.

It's a funny thing

how we hold on so tight

to the things which destroy us,

in a blink of an eye.

For me, it was three months,

three months of denial.

But I'm ready to be led now

by Him for a while.

And I pray that the while

will turn into forever.

I pray that I never lose sight of Him.

Ever.

To...or not to...

To find a job or not to find a job--that is the question. Well, there's really no question there. The answer is obviously yes. But it would be nice to not have to wonder if one will, in fact, come upon me.

To move to NYC for a year and live with Aunt Re or not to move to NYC for a year--that is a good question.

To take a job in Montana for two months of my summer or not to take a job in Montana for two months--that is another good question.

New addresses.

Ah, I didn't realize how a website address change could feel so freeing. Finally, room to breathe.

It's the end of the quarter, and I am currently in the process of moving out of my parents' house. Since moving back from Seattle, it's been quite a little rollercoaster ride living at home. My parents are wonderful, probably more wonderful than yours. Yet, I feel that there is a crucial part of life which allows those little birds with unused wings to take the plunge out of the nest and learn to live, think, and find food on their own. And it is that part of my life that I am not going through right now purely because I live at home, under the protection and food supply of my parents. I know that it would be a lot easier to stay home, but I feel that I am being enabled to not get a job and stay a little girl, where my thoughts and feelings about life are all based on my parents' opinions. There are many other factors that play into this and many other things I could say, but I am now going to refrain from writing more concerning this scary, yet wonderful, subject because I am in a Portland State computer lab and feel the eyes of those behind me piercing the back of my head and lasering onto the computer screen in which I write this, and it makes me juuuuuust a little uncomfortable. Get out of my business, you freakos. No, just kidding. I'm sure you're not freakos. I would do the same thing if someone in front of me was blogging. I would stick my big nose right into their lives, if for just a few minutes. So go ahead, my fellow Portland State computer lab folk. Go right ahead.

Bonjur.

The wind has carried with it much--

Not only I, but some failures

and luck.

I ponder now

who I will trust,

and a decision is to be made soon.

It is a must.

To follow the love

that so wove its way deep,

Or to follow the path that

I pledged I would keep;

To run with full force

into a vast unknown,

Or to shield from the worst,

staying safe, but alone.

Now comes the time quickly

for the tide to be determined,

and I am eager for it,

ready, though a bit uncertain.

It Would Take You A While to Figure This One Out!

Hmm.
I finally got him.
Finally,
Thoroughly,
Exquisitely,
I got him.
And he didn't even know what hit him.
He didn't even know he gave in.
He didn't know that I was now on the offensive,
and he was now defensive,
and he didn't even know it.

Finally, finally,
I won the battle.
I beat him at his own game.
I put that boy to shame.
Though no one really knows
except me and my own heart.
And I'll celebrate well,
though we are now apart.

No one will notice
that I am no longer tied
to that which was was my fancy
and with that, I sigh.
No one will know
why I'll smile and smirk
when he passes by,
but I will know why.

And great satisfaction
now comes upon me.
For I used to be preoccupied,
thinking quite incredulously.
But now, a new season,
with new reason, arises.
And I am quite ready
for new and welcome surprises.

He will go his way,
and I will, yes!, go mine.
And he may look back over here
with introspection and time.
But I will be far off
on the waves of a distant sea.
And though he may try to return,
he'll never regain me.

But for now, I bask
in what I've done.
I sit and think on who I've become.
I take joy and jest in my life ahead
while he is still idle,
though he knows it not.

Oh life,
you are a silly thing!

"Fly, fly to the place where I'm alive..."

My psychology class starts in twenty minutes. 

I'm sitting in one of the little cut-out study sections on the second floor of one of the large halls.

Many things have happened. I've kind of rebelled blogging (at least, on this blog), because, though few people know about this specific blog, there are still people that may read it, and it's hard to get my real thoughts down while thinking about those specific people reading what I want, or am trying to, write. They aren't bad people, or people that would be surprised by the content, I have just found it very hard to write honestly when I'm thinking about what these other people will be thinking.

Thus, I have created a secret blog. That no one knows about. All to myself, thank you very much.

Alright. Time to fill up my water bottle and wait for the doors to room 284 to open up.

Well, after two weeks of classes in this Spring term of 2009, I have realized that one thing is for certain: I love being in school. I love having papers due. I love preparing for presentations. I love riding the bus home. I love being downtown. I love getting up early. I love people. (I guess more than one thing). Each of my classes this term is somewhat challenging, yet, I am so intrigued by them and feel like my brain is making up for the last three months with information intake. (Sigh...).

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

You didn't have to tease me

with the smirk and the smile.

I had been long over you, dear,

for quite some time and a while.

It's just that--just you--

to flirt with what's gone.

I thought you were through,

packed up here and done.

But I guess I was wrong,

or was I?

Am I?

Is it worth it, dear Self,

to believe in another try?

Oh stop it, just stop it.

This is not worth your time.

But if he was yours,

I'd want him to be mine.

Maybe that's why 

I cannot

seem to move on.

I'll think that we're through,

then he'll awaken another dawn,

another burst of sunlight

that hints of the day.

Then he turns back around,

leaving clouds

and the sky gray.

So here I am again

in the stage of not knowing,

as my interest and intrigue 

keeps on growing...

You.

Okay now, slow down.

Don't make another sound.

We've only known a little,

though you do have great potential.

Just wait it out, my friend,

Look for and follow the wind.

Don't force an inkling heart

into deep commitment at the start.

A Poem.

You seem to smell of interest and intrigue.

It's quite obvious, my friend.

You're wearing it on your sleeve.

If only those eyes would reveal more than they do,

I may have a chance at figuring out you.

See, you've mastered the art

of turning your face to stone.

And I ponder what's behind it

when I'm quiet and alone.

Maybe to those you know, 

the face of stone turns soft.

But as for me, not close enough,

You often seem far off.

But despite your lofty countenance 

and eyes that look past what's there.

I determine myself to figure you out,

though I don't know when or where...

Franny and Zooey

Since I've been home from SPU, I have been bombarded by book recommendations, some from friends, some from mentors, and some that seem to just circulate in the world of well-known, good books. I have so far purchased The Great Gatsby, A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanaken, all three volumes of Jon Courson's Application Commentary, and finally Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger. I have made my way halfway through A Severe Mercy, and it's quite a good read, but I opened up Franny and Zooey this morning, and I have a feeling I will finish it first--I just LOVE it! The writing style of Salinger provokes in me the same gitty whit that Hemingway's works do. I'm only on page 35, so I can't say I appreciate it as a whole yet, but thus far, I am pleasantly delighted with it.

And as a disclaimer, all the books I've purchased--minus the Bible commentaries--were bought used, at very low prices. These low prices were my excuse for such impulsive buys. 

 

Meet Joe Black

Have you ever seen something so out of place that you can only stare and be in complete awe?

Two days ago, I drove to Fred Meyer's to pick up some oatmeal. I was on a mission to get the oatmeal quick because my cookie recipe was half-made, sitting out at home (I realized we didn't have any oatmeal after the cookie-making process began). I walked quickly down the aisles, scanning the shelves for what I was looking for. I then came to aisle 6 and saw five women all stopped in their tracks, staring at something I couldn't see. There was an old woman, two girls my age, and two middle-aged women, none of them being together. Curious to see what would cause these five strangers to stare with eyes wide and jaws dropping, I poked my head around the corner.

And there, standing before me, was the most handsome and epic-looking man I believe I have ever seen. He looked to be about thirty. His hair was similar to Brad Pitt's in Meet Joe Black and he was wearing a fitted, black suit. In the midst of suburban Portland, two teenagers, a couple frumpy old housewives, an old woman, and I were faced with someone straight out of a James Bond film picking out batteries on aisle 6, probably for some digital device James Bond would use, I thought. I stood there for about ten seconds, then he looked up at all of us staring at him. Quickly pretending to go back to our shopping duties, we all snapped out of the trance and carried on with our shopping.

But the best part is that as I walked out to the parking lot and got into the driver's seat of our family's Astro van, I looked to my left, and there, parked right next to me, was the Joe Black man, unwrapping the batteries in the driver's seat of a tan Astro van with two kids in the back. Icing on the cake.

Some Reflections...

Sometimes, I am quite eloquent in my thinking, at least, I think I am. And other times, most times, I am quite scatterbrained--thus, the title of this blog. Today, I am more on the scatterbrained side of things. Much has happened in the last six months, events both big and small, and since this morning, I've been reflecting on a lot...

-One decision I made recently was quite large. Who goes away to an acclaimed university with the blessing of scholarship for all four years, attends for one quarter, than moves home? I did. It took some long, sleepless nights to think/pray through the decision to come home. I knew I would have to explain the whys and hows to many people who disagreed with my decision. I knew that there would be LOADS of paperwork and phone calls and emails that would have to be made, sent out, and filled out. I knew that I was in a situation that many people would love to be in, but never get the opportunity to do. Yet, the peace I feel now is so reassuring, and I feel that going away for four months made me realize how much I do love this place I've called home, and do call home, for the better part of my life.

-I have also been pondering/wrestling with/being haunted by the fact of how short this life on earth is. Seriously. When the Bible talks about how we are but vapors in the wind or flowering grass that will fade away, it's terribly and wonderfully true. I am at a time in my life where I'm figuring out where I want to go, what I want to do, and how I can bring God the most glory (which is actually a somewhat selfish motive because "bringing glory to God" and "delighting in Him" is the ultimate purpose in man, according to the Bible, so I know that I will find the most purpose when I'm bringing glory to Him),while also delighting in Him. There are so many dreams I have that I yearn to be able to accomplish in my short time here. Hebrews talks about how many great men and women of the Bible were heavenly-minded and received the fullness of God's promises to them only after they died and went to Heaven. God's covenant and promise to Abraham began while Abraham was alive, but has truly been fulfilled thousands of years after his death. "But as it is, they desired a better country"--Heaven. What am I doing now that will be of lasting value? Am I investing my time/energy/love/emotion/work into earthly, perishable things, or am I investing in things that will last? This life is so short. Fiddlesticks!

-I love the sun. It has been sunny and clear of clouds here in P-town for the last week, and the vitamin D and endorphins that have been released in my body due to the sun is quite appreciated. So the wind chill brings the temperature down to what feels like twenty degrees. I don't care. The sun is shining, and the birds are chirping. That's all I need. And just for the nostalgic effect, I let down my hair, turned country radio on, and rolled the windows down as I drove out in the "no speed limit zone" country yesterday. It was quite glorious until I couldn't feel my ears anymore due to the cold. Oh well. Summer is just around the corner...

Scatterbrained 4

I have learned that time will tell. 

And Sunday was quite telling. 

Of one and another. 

The one by the fountain was the icing on the cake.

The other by the table kept flashing double takes. 

The one was there, then disappeared. 

The other was there, and wouldn't. 

I guess this may be a fault by me, a block in the path I didn't see. 

But how could I recognize the unfamiliar scene when I've honed my whole life the art of repelling?

Then when one comes, I've no experience to show.

And the other is blinded by those glasses of rose.

I really do wish one would understand this state I'm in,

That I can hardly, comfortably, let anyone in.

Well I want to, but circumstance was not my best friend.

And one was a bit presumptuous if you ask me.

Now the other, dear other, good and charming, dear other.

One day you will wake up and find your other.

But not me, not me, no, now not me.

And I'm sure many more would love to be the source of your charm.

Do not be alarmed. 

I surely am not.

The pining heart doth wander about many things.

But with one I am done.

As the other trails behind.

But shall I forget that which was so meaningful?

That which was so beneficial to my state and process of thinking?

That which has heightened my standard?

The icing on the cake that one created on Sunday is beginning to melt.

Kind of.

But Self, stop whining.

All in good timing.

I just got Jon Courson's Application Commentary of the whole Bible. It's seriously astute. Buy it.