Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles.
They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Monday, September 26, 2011

I don't see the point in pretending to be something I'm not, or to feel a way that I don't. I did that for almost a year, off and on, and I'm tired of it. You see, my ex boyfriend is my best friend. And there are days that I miss him quite a bit. There are days when I don't, when I want to just move on, when I want something new in my life. But you see, its not helping either of us when we don't speak to one another. In fact, I cannot see how that is a productive resolution following a very clean, very peaceful break up. If there is something I wish to share with him, after three years, I will share it with him, regardless of our history together. The worst pain following something like this is the restraint. Being in the same room and not speaking. Wishing the other could know about some aspect of your life but not sharing with them because "that's not what you do after a break up." Break ups have not worked well in the past when we cut each other out of our lives.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

I Need To Take A Walk

Its strange, this disappointment I feel. Although I'm thrilled for him, I'm also slightly...unimpressed, I suppose. Or jealous. Not neccessarily of her, because I knew full well that nothing would come of this "crush" or whatever it is that you would like to call it, but of them both, finding their happiness and loving one another despite all the turmoil and all the angst that had separated them for more than a year.
This is not to say that my life is miserable. It isn't. I'm good friends with my ex, and although I'm still confused about how that will turn out, I'm okay with the position that we are in. But sometimes it seems as though my fairy tale won't come. There will be none of that passionate, impulsive love in my future: the love that makes you want to be an artist, a poet, a musician. Sometimes it seems that this is all that's left to my life: studying and working and hoping and waiting. That is what my disappointment is from, I think.

Friday, September 23, 2011

This Girl's a New Member of the Tattoo Club!

Today, I did it: The thing I've been talking about doing for the past year and a half. I got the tattoo!

I mean, I'd say it hurt.

Tattoo Day!

I'll post the pictures later, but right now, after what I can only assume has got to be at least 2 Liters of Coffee and about 5 hours of sleep, I'm completely FREAKING OUT. My hands are shaking, my heart is pounding, I'm having trouble breathing and I'm feeling a little nauseous. Oh goodness.
Appointment is in 53 minutes! Wish me Luck!

Thursday, September 22, 2011

I've moved. Somehow, being in my dorm increases my apathy about studying. Actually, that's not quite the truth. Being here increases my anxiety about exams which leads to hopelessness, which leads to apathy. After about 5 hours of intermittent studying, I'm ready to throw in the towel. What a pathetic evening of studying. I should probably continue, being that I have only made it through three of the five chapters that I am being tested on tomorrow, and considering how lazy I feel, and how little work I actually do during the week. Yes, I should stay up and study some more, but there's this groaning, whining voice inside my head moaning "but I don't wanna..." in that voice five-year-olds use when you tell them to take a bath or eat their vegetables or go to bed.
I also tend to overstudy so for the past five hours I've only reviewed things that aren't going to be on the test. I do that pretty frequently. I take too many notes and I study too many things, trying to commit it all to memory the day before the exam. I have terrible study habits, really. I mean, clearly, because I am not finished and here I am, blogging about studying. As if saying that I should be studying will somehow magically make me be studying right now.
I'm studying Voygotsky. Its interesting how so many early psychologists were German. Freud, Fromm, Voygotsky. The latter Talked about the zone of proximal development, which is where a person can accomplish more with a more skilled partner. He also talks about (and I find this very interesting) a child's private speech. As in, when a little kid talks to his or herself, giving the self instructions or regulating their own behavior. I have this image in my mind of a five year old saying "No, no, no; you cannot wet the bed." This private speech will ultimate become a person's inner speech, or in Freudian terms, the superego (conscience).
So if you were having trouble sleeping, I doubt that you are now. In fact, reader, I can hear you snoring from here. Shall I continue? Yes?
Well I'm also learning about weird Freudian theories: Psychosexual development. It seems that he's talking about how a person's primitive sexual psyche develops from the time he or she is born; starting with oral development and then continuing to grow and develop until death. I'll spare you the details because they make me a little uncomfortable, but it does seem strange to me.
Chapter 2 was largely about birth and biological developments. We talked about abortion in class, and had to debate it. It's something that I've never supported but as a social worker I've begun to try and see "the other" perspective. Its challenging; especially since it emits a fog over my conviction about this. How frustrating. There's talk of Developmental milestones: when a baby can sit up, hold a cup, walk, run, develop speech, etc. Oh goodness, I'll never remember all of this. I wonder if you're understanding my anxiety a bit better now. Chapter 1 was a bit of review from my intro to social work class, talking about the social work process and the strengths perspective.
Oh boy, this is just a lot of work. Maybe I'm just muy perezosa. I would really like that omelet now.
On another note, I missed Glee this week, and it was the premier. How devastating. But I finished the first Harry Potter book this week, for the first time. I greatly enjoyed it. Especially when Neville won those last 10 points for Gryffindor, which won them the house cup. And when Harry got the broom and Draco was being all arrogant about it, and then found out that it was given to him per order of Professor McGonagall. That was wonderful. That stuff doesn't happen in real life.
Guys, tomorrow is Friday! First day of fall, last day of the week. Hurrah (Next week will be longer...don't even get me started)! And tomorrow, I get my tattoo! OH GOODNESS! I'm muy nervosa.

Alright, I've procrastinated quite long enough. Its time I return my nose to the grindstone. Good evening.

Studying overwhelms me.

And I have an exam at 9 am. Pray for me.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Sarah Suitemate and Ke$h


Imagine the world in the midst of a snowstorm. You look out the window of the living room and see the dusky sky and the snow glittering on the ground, uncorrupted, untouched. Pure, white, innocent snow. Then you step outside and hear nothing. Nothing but the wonderful quiet that has fallen with the snow. For a moment you feel as though you are the only person there is. That is peace.
Fowler campus around midnight is similar. Many nights, on my way back from Wilson, I walk as slowly as I can back to Fulton, drinking in a similar kind of peacefulness. There's something indescribable, something divine, about the peace of Gordon late at night. Its as if God himself is dwelling over our campus. Like he holds the grounds and the ponds in his hands and breathes a sort of Shalom into it. Its these moments that I feel whole; when my heartache stills for a time. Its now that I feel closest to God.

1 am

I have to wake up for a class in 5 and a half hours. Well, that's if I want to get my omelet. Now I'm  weighing my love for those omelets (being that they are the greatest thing that Lane has accomplished...ever) against my absolute adoration of sleep.
Part of the reason I can't sleep is because I keep thinking about the omelet. That's pretty sad, really.
Now, I realize that I don't have any readers. But here's a lullaby in case some insomniac stumbles across this blog.


Listening to it, I think I may just be a bit sleepier already.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Oh God,
What are you doing to me?

Tomorrow would be my anniversary. Three years. If I hadn't done what I thought God was calling me to do by removing a romantic relationship from my life. He's been the best and most reliable person I know since we met three years ago. He's never left my side. He's stood by me through the hardest times.
Then I had this dream. He took me by the hand and knelt on the ground, holding a ring up to me and asking me to marry him. My gut reaction was dread.
That, along with many, many other factors led me to the decision to end our relationship after 2 years and 10 months.
But now, after spending 45 minutes on the phone with him, just "catching up", I've never been more confused about our relationship. Sometimes I think that God is telling me that he has to finish working on us, bringing both of us closer to Him, before he can bring us back together. But if that is true, why don't I want to be with him more?
I'm feeling very conflicted right now.

This was from the summer before we started college. 
You know, I'm getting pretty tired of saying "I don't know."

Monday, September 19, 2011

Today I'm sick of me.
Yesterday I was, as well.
You see, lately I've been feeling as though I don't do many things right, but I do many many things wrong. I feel distanced from the only one I've ever known, and am in fact beginning to doubt his existence.
This may be because I haven't taken the time to remember him.
I've ignored him for the past week and a half (and yes, that is how long it takes for my mind to swerve).
I've done things he's told me not to do.
I've not done things I felt I should do.
I feel as though I've lost his approval.
So that's part of all this, I suppose.
I also feel like I need a change of scenery.
Wenham is a beautiful place, and the leaves are beginning to turn orange and yellow. I love foliage. I love the pond that is still half-buried underneath lily pads. I love the steeple that stands proudly atop the chapel. I love the sky. I love the sunset--watching the steeple gleam white in contrast to the firey pinks and purples and oranges that set the sky ablaze.
But I hate it here, at the same time.
It is much better than, say, January of last year. When I felt completely alone. But at the same time, I'm just feeling completely disgusted with myself, and with the people that I've left behind. I don't want to talk to them, I don't want to be involved in their lives, I don't want to read about their unresolved problems on facebook.
I hate facebook. It's very dramatic.
I want to go to a place where people value the food on their table and the roof over their head above the clothes in their closet and the car in their driveway. I want to be in a place that lives life simply. Where every ray of sun is another breath that they've gotten to breathe.
I don't know where this place is, but I'm praying that God will lead me there. I'm tired of the place that I am.
I've applied to voyage off to Northern Ireland in January. There, I would have the joy of tutoring and entertaining Irish children. I would absolutely adore the opportunity to do this, and if I'm accepted I doubt that I'll hesitate to go, but it just seems to me that something is missing. Theres an element of need that I'm not sure those people have. There's a lack of simplicity that I yearn for. I want to sleep in the dirt for a while, I suppose.
And what is funny is that these words have my mothers breath. These are the things she would say, and in fact, has said. She wants to live like they live. She wants to suffer the way they suffer. She suffers in her own way if she can't.
And here I am, desperately trying not to be her, but at the same time, tragically falling into her footsteps. It terrifies me that we may not be so different as I once thought we were. She is almost incapable of finding contentment and joy, and the image of her misery, her tears, her broken heart, this image is burned into the back of my mind as a prediction for my future.
"Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37:4). When the path your life is traveling down turns out so differently than you've hoped it would be its hard to delight in the Lord. I understand this passage as implying that when you delight only in the Lord, he will make his desires your desires. But I'm afraid that my desires may be very different than his. And my question is whether or not I'll be able to find happiness without those things that I anticipate greatly. I constantly ask him to use me, use me, make a difference through me; well, what if I turn out to be "just another girl"?
We all change anothers' life in some way, I suppose.
Here's my wheatwhich. Off to read land of the green plums.

Sunday, September 18, 2011


Something incredible
Something memorable
Something changing
I want to do something
With my breath and my pulse
With my sight and my sound
With my hands and my feet
Something that makes life worth living for someone
Someone who's been hurt
Who will be hurt
Who has lived in hurt
Someone who knows suffering
Someone who knows luxury
Something to change a life

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Isaiah 40:31

Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles. They will walk and not grow weary, they will run and not be faint.