She fears him, and will always ask
What fated her to choose him;
She meets in his engaging mask
All reason to refuse him.
But what she meets and what she fears
Are less than are the downward years,
Drawn slowly to the foamless weirs
Of age, were she to lose him.
Between a blurred sagacity
That once had power to sound him,
And Love, that will not let him be
The Judas that she found him,
Her pride assuages her almost
As if it were alone the cost--
He sees that he will not be lost,
And waits, and looks around him.
A sense of ocean and old trees
Envelops and allures him;
Tradition, touching all he sees,
Beguiles and reassures him.
And all her doubts of what he says
Are dimmed by what she knows of days,
Till even Prejudice delays
And fades, and she secures him.
The falling leaf inaugurates
The reign of her confusion;
The pounding wave reverberates
The dirge of her illusion.
And Home, where passion lived and died,
Becomes a place where she can hide,
While all the town and harbor side
Vibrate with her seclusion.
We tell you, tapping on our brows,
The story as it should be,
As if the story of a house
Were told, or ever could be.
We'll have no kindly veil between
Her visions and those we have seen--
As if we guessed what hers have been,
Or what they are or would be.
Meanwhile we do no harm, for they
That with a god have striven,
Not hearing much of what we say,
Take what the god has given.
Though like waves breaking it may be,
Or like a changed familiar tree,
Or like a stairway to the sea,
Where down the blind are driven.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
SHE GOT TO GO HOME!!!
She isn't necessarily better, but she made a good argument (against her doctor's wishes, of course) that she wasn't getting any better at the hospital and she was miserable - so why not go home where she's comfortable? So he let her go. She already feels better, just being at home. So I'm going home tomorrow night and we're gonna make purses and spend some time together. I'm glad she's feeling better, I just hope she actually gets better.
Anyway. Wanted to share the happy news!! :) Off to sleep now.
She isn't necessarily better, but she made a good argument (against her doctor's wishes, of course) that she wasn't getting any better at the hospital and she was miserable - so why not go home where she's comfortable? So he let her go. She already feels better, just being at home. So I'm going home tomorrow night and we're gonna make purses and spend some time together. I'm glad she's feeling better, I just hope she actually gets better.
Anyway. Wanted to share the happy news!! :) Off to sleep now.
Friday, September 28, 2007
I need a hug. A big, long, it's-okay-you're-safe, enveloping HUG. It has been a rough two weeks and, if we're being perfectly honest, it isn't getting better this next week. I know I'll be okay and I know that I will make it because I have an amazing Father who takes care of me and I know that I've been give an amazing network of friends and family that love and support me. But I really need a hug. And the two people that can make me feel safe and comforted like that aren't here. One's in Sherwood and I'll get to see him this weekend, so that's a major plus. The other, though . . . well, he's just not here right now. And won't be for a while. And there's circumstances. Eh.
I should be writing my lab report for Biology about now. I've gotten some of it done . . . and by some of it, I mean not much at all.
My mom is still in the hospital - it's been a week now. Here's the thing: this is routine for me and my family. This, however, never makes it easier. I've become a pro, however, at fooling myself and everyone around me that it doesn't freak me out and that I can go throughout my day without worrying. IT'S A LIE. A huge lie. It scares the crap out of me. Every time my dad calls (while she's in the hospital) I'm worried that he's going to tell me she's gotten worse or they've found something awful or some such other thing. The rational part of me knows this isn't what's going to happen about 99% of the time . . . but it happens. Not very often, thank God. They (well, really, me) have made me paranoid. If my dad calls at an odd time or several times in a short span, I immediately think it has to do with my mother and that they're rushing her off to the ER again. It's sad. What's worse is that my mom being in the hospital makes our relationship absolutely wonderful. I call her at least once a day, usually two or three times, to check on her and make sure she's okay. My patience with her is 100x more than it normally is and I'll answer just about any question and talk to her about anything and everything. My relationship with my mother should not be dependent on her health. What kind of daughter am I? I love my mom, I do. She's an amazing woman and one of the most people-focused humans I've ever met. She'd give you every single thing out of our house if you needed it. I've watched her try. It's so easy for her to know people and I don't know anyone that doesn't like her (we're not talking about annoyed, that's a different subject). But there is something about this woman that gave birth to me that irritates the living daylights out of me. I adore her and I'd do anything for her, but I can't seem to control my temper when it comes to her. And I hate it. I shouldn't be so angry toward her and I don't know what's wrong with me! I tell people that her being in the hospital is normal now and that I'm fine, really, and that she's okay. She's not okay. She's a really, really sick woman and I'm scared to death that I'm going to lose her in the next year or two and that she won't be around anymore. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her. I know it will happen some day, but I don't want that day to be soon. I want that day to be 20, 30 years down the road when I'm married and I have kids and she's seen them growing up and they get to know their grandmother. I hate that she's so sick and that most of it can't be fixed because she did it herself by not controlling her diabetes and taking care of herself. I don't like her being in pain and constantly ill. She's so miserable most of the time, but you don't know it because she won't admit it to most people. I'm so proud of her for finally listening to the doctors and me and my dad - for changing her lifestyle (a big change, too) and making a huge effort to start living a healthy life. She's done such a good job and I so wish that it would fix the damage she's done, but it won't. Her lifestyle change will basically just keep her alive longer, it can't fix the damage she's done in the 14 years of not controlling her diabetes. I'm so grateful the doctors got her attention, though. Because she wouldn't listen to me and I'd given up . . .
And. Now that I've released all that. I should go finish (start) my lab report.
Ciao!
Jen
I should be writing my lab report for Biology about now. I've gotten some of it done . . . and by some of it, I mean not much at all.
My mom is still in the hospital - it's been a week now. Here's the thing: this is routine for me and my family. This, however, never makes it easier. I've become a pro, however, at fooling myself and everyone around me that it doesn't freak me out and that I can go throughout my day without worrying. IT'S A LIE. A huge lie. It scares the crap out of me. Every time my dad calls (while she's in the hospital) I'm worried that he's going to tell me she's gotten worse or they've found something awful or some such other thing. The rational part of me knows this isn't what's going to happen about 99% of the time . . . but it happens. Not very often, thank God. They (well, really, me) have made me paranoid. If my dad calls at an odd time or several times in a short span, I immediately think it has to do with my mother and that they're rushing her off to the ER again. It's sad. What's worse is that my mom being in the hospital makes our relationship absolutely wonderful. I call her at least once a day, usually two or three times, to check on her and make sure she's okay. My patience with her is 100x more than it normally is and I'll answer just about any question and talk to her about anything and everything. My relationship with my mother should not be dependent on her health. What kind of daughter am I? I love my mom, I do. She's an amazing woman and one of the most people-focused humans I've ever met. She'd give you every single thing out of our house if you needed it. I've watched her try. It's so easy for her to know people and I don't know anyone that doesn't like her (we're not talking about annoyed, that's a different subject). But there is something about this woman that gave birth to me that irritates the living daylights out of me. I adore her and I'd do anything for her, but I can't seem to control my temper when it comes to her. And I hate it. I shouldn't be so angry toward her and I don't know what's wrong with me! I tell people that her being in the hospital is normal now and that I'm fine, really, and that she's okay. She's not okay. She's a really, really sick woman and I'm scared to death that I'm going to lose her in the next year or two and that she won't be around anymore. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her. I know it will happen some day, but I don't want that day to be soon. I want that day to be 20, 30 years down the road when I'm married and I have kids and she's seen them growing up and they get to know their grandmother. I hate that she's so sick and that most of it can't be fixed because she did it herself by not controlling her diabetes and taking care of herself. I don't like her being in pain and constantly ill. She's so miserable most of the time, but you don't know it because she won't admit it to most people. I'm so proud of her for finally listening to the doctors and me and my dad - for changing her lifestyle (a big change, too) and making a huge effort to start living a healthy life. She's done such a good job and I so wish that it would fix the damage she's done, but it won't. Her lifestyle change will basically just keep her alive longer, it can't fix the damage she's done in the 14 years of not controlling her diabetes. I'm so grateful the doctors got her attention, though. Because she wouldn't listen to me and I'd given up . . .
And. Now that I've released all that. I should go finish (start) my lab report.
Ciao!
Jen
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Well I've had one interesting evening. I got all dolled up for the fun of it, which really was a lot of fun, and I had absolutely nothing to do. Sad times, no? SO. My friend, Callie, and I went over to a friend-of-a-friend's room (Jeremy's friend, Garret) to watch Hot Fuzz. I swear there was about 2o people there. We couldn't even open the door all the way because we had so many couches, chairs and people. Pretty sure that's a fire code violation, but, eh. There were four RAs there (including myself) and what makes this funny is that we got in trouble, not once, but twice. For noise. Tabor didn't even say anything about the amount of people in the room, just the noise. It was fun, though, and turns out Hot Fuzz is a really good movie. Really funny.
Anyway, that ended, so Callie and I decided that we were going to a party to check on one of her residents. We finally find the place we're going and realize that there is a TON of alcohol there, so we very quickly leave (um, our jobs are in serious jeopardy if we're caught anywhere near alcohol and with knowledge of it). So we start trying to figure out what to do and find out that the Sig Eps are having a party. Long story short, I went a party at a frat house tonight. I think I can officially say I'm a college student now. Not really, but it was fun. Not too terribly exciting, but I was amused for a while. There wasn't alcohol (in the open, anyway) and they had the UCAPD at the party keeping an eye on stuff. It was fun, I didn't stay long, though. I went to the fountain and just sat there with my feet in for a while. It was really nice and I'm glad I went and just had some peace for a while.
I'm off to bed now, though. I gotta be at the Student Center by 8:15 a.m. because we're helping with a clean-up project in LR tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. Go CircleK!!
Anyway, that ended, so Callie and I decided that we were going to a party to check on one of her residents. We finally find the place we're going and realize that there is a TON of alcohol there, so we very quickly leave (um, our jobs are in serious jeopardy if we're caught anywhere near alcohol and with knowledge of it). So we start trying to figure out what to do and find out that the Sig Eps are having a party. Long story short, I went a party at a frat house tonight. I think I can officially say I'm a college student now. Not really, but it was fun. Not too terribly exciting, but I was amused for a while. There wasn't alcohol (in the open, anyway) and they had the UCAPD at the party keeping an eye on stuff. It was fun, I didn't stay long, though. I went to the fountain and just sat there with my feet in for a while. It was really nice and I'm glad I went and just had some peace for a while.
I'm off to bed now, though. I gotta be at the Student Center by 8:15 a.m. because we're helping with a clean-up project in LR tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. Go CircleK!!
Friday, September 7, 2007
You Belong to Me by Jason Wade
So it's been a while. About two weeks worth of while. I'm back, though! A lot of stuff has happened between then and now, and I'm pretty much just gonna let that stuff be. A quick summary, however:
- RA training is intense. "Behind Closed Doors" is some of the most intense training I think I'll probably ever go through, unless I decide to join the military, and that's not gonna happen. They have us walk into situations with the bare minimum of information and confront said situation. These situations were colleague conflict, residents drinking, roommate conflict (hate crime), residents drinking/partying, possible rape/sexual assault (bloody scene, let me tell ya), and suicide (all you knew was an alarm clock was going off). Yeah.
- Classes are intense. Well, Neuroscience is intense. Sign language rocks my socks off so much I just wear flip flops. First aid is incredibly easy, and so is Biology. Honors, well, Honors is a buttload of reading, but it's fun reading. I'm learning about Ancient Rome. Heck. Yes.
- My residents are absolutely amazing. Really, I love them all dearly and they make my life happy (for now). My staff, some of the most wonderful people in the world and I am so incredibly grateful to God for allowing me this opportunity and placing me where He did. He definitely knows what He's doing.
Speaking of God. The bullhorn guys have been here. If you know me at all, you know that this pisses me off more than just about anything. They're horrible and they just make Christianity so belligerent and hostile. Which, last time I checked, it isn't. Pretty sure Christ was all about loving people. Pretty sure he was against the Pharisees because they were belligerent hypocrites that talked the talked and flouted the walk. Anyway. I'll stay away from that soapbox, for now. Well, my blood pressure was relatively higher than normal that day because they just aggravate me, I had a Neuroscience test and I had a paper due for Honors. To make things worse, I noticed they've brought their kids with them this time and have the children holding anti-abortion signs (the ones with the aborted babies on them). So I go to class and my Honor's professor, Doug, gives me this grand idea of going and playing with the kid, getting him away from all the confrontation. Brilliant, no? So. I get out of class and I go sit rather peacefully on the steps of the chapel for a few minutes and I notice that my friends Aaron and Andrew are there. They come over, we chat for a bit and we all agree that we want the kid away from all these belligerent people (the students were starting to barrage the kid with questions). Well, we find out what his name is and call him over to come talk to us. His name is Silas, by the way, and he's TEN. So, pray that he realizes that this isn't the way to bring Jesus to the world/the world to Jesus. It was an absolutely amazing opportunity, though. For me. God gave me the chance to take a situation that makes me so incredibly angry and find a better way to deal with, a chance to make it a happy situation and use it for His glory and to show His love instead of my anger. It was wonderful. We asked him just about every question we could possibly think of - favorite food, what animal he would be, if he has a pet, brothers, sisters, what he likes to do, what sports he plays, what his favorite subject and so on. He was adorable and soo polite. Aaron taught him how to make paper airplanes and then they had contests to see whose plane flew the furthest. It was adorable and I'm so glad that God allowed me to be there. And I'm glad that He showed me a way to change my attitude and perspective. What a lesson.
Anyway. That's my happy story for the evening.
My funny story for the evening:
A friend of mine from high school came to see me for a bit this evening. A friend that I'm not very close to at all and that I don't really have a lot of respect for. But that's beside the point, well, actually, it's the end of it. Anyway. We go get coffee and chat for a bit and then he decides to ditch me for his freshmen buddy. Deciding that it doesn't matter if I'm an RA, he proceeds to tell me about how they're gonna go get drunk in this kid's room, which happens to be on campus in a residence hall. Um, hello, we live on a DRY campus in a DRY county and I'M AN RA. He talks to me about this for about ten minutes or so, I remind him that I'm an RA and he was like "Yeah, I know. So?" Well, I walk him to the building, get in, meet this kid that he's drinking with, and find out his name and all the pertinent info. I let 'em go off to his room talking about how they're gonna go get plastered. What they don't know, though, is that I have to report this. It's my JOB. Poor kid, he chose a bad friend who's retarded enough to tell an RA what they're about to do. So, I call the RA on duty and tell them everything I know, we look up the room number and now she's going to keep an eye out for alcohol and such. I figure if he's retarded enough to tell me, I can be mean enough to turn him in. Besides, drinking that much isn't good for you, especially when you're driving to LR a few hours later. Nope, I'm not letting it happen if I can stop it.
I'm working on my life right now, which, considering I'm in college, is probably to be expected. God and I are most definitely working through some issues. I'm reading Wild At Heart throughout these few weeks (yes, I know it's technically for boys, but that's stuff girls need to know, it doesn't work well if only guys know it). And let me tell ya. That book is absolutely amazing and I'm learning all about the stuff I've done wrong and the few things I've done right. I'm also working hard on reading my Bible every day. It's wonderful when I do, but it's so easy to rationalize why I "don't have time." Which is a load of crock. But, yeah. God and I are working on it. I've done some stuff lately that I'm pretty much kicking myself for and wondering where/when that side of me showed up. But it's cool, because now that I know it's there, I can battle it. My self-confidence/self-esteem is goin' up, which is a wonderful feeling and it is so incredibly comforting and empowering to know that God loves me sooo much no matter my mood or what I've done. He still wants me fully and completely and He thinks I am absolutely gorgeous.
Well, I think this is long enough for now. I think I just needed to write. It feels good to pour out my thoughts into something. I've missed it. Life is so beautiful. I love you guys.
- RA training is intense. "Behind Closed Doors" is some of the most intense training I think I'll probably ever go through, unless I decide to join the military, and that's not gonna happen. They have us walk into situations with the bare minimum of information and confront said situation. These situations were colleague conflict, residents drinking, roommate conflict (hate crime), residents drinking/partying, possible rape/sexual assault (bloody scene, let me tell ya), and suicide (all you knew was an alarm clock was going off). Yeah.
- Classes are intense. Well, Neuroscience is intense. Sign language rocks my socks off so much I just wear flip flops. First aid is incredibly easy, and so is Biology. Honors, well, Honors is a buttload of reading, but it's fun reading. I'm learning about Ancient Rome. Heck. Yes.
- My residents are absolutely amazing. Really, I love them all dearly and they make my life happy (for now). My staff, some of the most wonderful people in the world and I am so incredibly grateful to God for allowing me this opportunity and placing me where He did. He definitely knows what He's doing.
Speaking of God. The bullhorn guys have been here. If you know me at all, you know that this pisses me off more than just about anything. They're horrible and they just make Christianity so belligerent and hostile. Which, last time I checked, it isn't. Pretty sure Christ was all about loving people. Pretty sure he was against the Pharisees because they were belligerent hypocrites that talked the talked and flouted the walk. Anyway. I'll stay away from that soapbox, for now. Well, my blood pressure was relatively higher than normal that day because they just aggravate me, I had a Neuroscience test and I had a paper due for Honors. To make things worse, I noticed they've brought their kids with them this time and have the children holding anti-abortion signs (the ones with the aborted babies on them). So I go to class and my Honor's professor, Doug, gives me this grand idea of going and playing with the kid, getting him away from all the confrontation. Brilliant, no? So. I get out of class and I go sit rather peacefully on the steps of the chapel for a few minutes and I notice that my friends Aaron and Andrew are there. They come over, we chat for a bit and we all agree that we want the kid away from all these belligerent people (the students were starting to barrage the kid with questions). Well, we find out what his name is and call him over to come talk to us. His name is Silas, by the way, and he's TEN. So, pray that he realizes that this isn't the way to bring Jesus to the world/the world to Jesus. It was an absolutely amazing opportunity, though. For me. God gave me the chance to take a situation that makes me so incredibly angry and find a better way to deal with, a chance to make it a happy situation and use it for His glory and to show His love instead of my anger. It was wonderful. We asked him just about every question we could possibly think of - favorite food, what animal he would be, if he has a pet, brothers, sisters, what he likes to do, what sports he plays, what his favorite subject and so on. He was adorable and soo polite. Aaron taught him how to make paper airplanes and then they had contests to see whose plane flew the furthest. It was adorable and I'm so glad that God allowed me to be there. And I'm glad that He showed me a way to change my attitude and perspective. What a lesson.
Anyway. That's my happy story for the evening.
My funny story for the evening:
A friend of mine from high school came to see me for a bit this evening. A friend that I'm not very close to at all and that I don't really have a lot of respect for. But that's beside the point, well, actually, it's the end of it. Anyway. We go get coffee and chat for a bit and then he decides to ditch me for his freshmen buddy. Deciding that it doesn't matter if I'm an RA, he proceeds to tell me about how they're gonna go get drunk in this kid's room, which happens to be on campus in a residence hall. Um, hello, we live on a DRY campus in a DRY county and I'M AN RA. He talks to me about this for about ten minutes or so, I remind him that I'm an RA and he was like "Yeah, I know. So?" Well, I walk him to the building, get in, meet this kid that he's drinking with, and find out his name and all the pertinent info. I let 'em go off to his room talking about how they're gonna go get plastered. What they don't know, though, is that I have to report this. It's my JOB. Poor kid, he chose a bad friend who's retarded enough to tell an RA what they're about to do. So, I call the RA on duty and tell them everything I know, we look up the room number and now she's going to keep an eye out for alcohol and such. I figure if he's retarded enough to tell me, I can be mean enough to turn him in. Besides, drinking that much isn't good for you, especially when you're driving to LR a few hours later. Nope, I'm not letting it happen if I can stop it.
I'm working on my life right now, which, considering I'm in college, is probably to be expected. God and I are most definitely working through some issues. I'm reading Wild At Heart throughout these few weeks (yes, I know it's technically for boys, but that's stuff girls need to know, it doesn't work well if only guys know it). And let me tell ya. That book is absolutely amazing and I'm learning all about the stuff I've done wrong and the few things I've done right. I'm also working hard on reading my Bible every day. It's wonderful when I do, but it's so easy to rationalize why I "don't have time." Which is a load of crock. But, yeah. God and I are working on it. I've done some stuff lately that I'm pretty much kicking myself for and wondering where/when that side of me showed up. But it's cool, because now that I know it's there, I can battle it. My self-confidence/self-esteem is goin' up, which is a wonderful feeling and it is so incredibly comforting and empowering to know that God loves me sooo much no matter my mood or what I've done. He still wants me fully and completely and He thinks I am absolutely gorgeous.
Well, I think this is long enough for now. I think I just needed to write. It feels good to pour out my thoughts into something. I've missed it. Life is so beautiful. I love you guys.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Wait
I'll write an actual post at some point this week, but for now - the poem's it. :) | ||||||||||||
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Monday, August 6, 2007
Back-to-school madness
So I've moved in. That was Saturday. All day.
Let's just say that the third floor with no elevators makes moving in a little more difficult than last year's. We made it, though!! I absolutely love my room. I've got some bookshelves, a futon, a nice bed, a cozy space underneath where you can sleep or just lounge . . . it's a nice, cozy, homey room. I think I'm going to really enjoy living here.
My mom wore me out Saturday. We got done moving me in (which means getting everything up here and mostly put together/away) around 4 or so, and then we went shopping. For anyone that knows my mother, saying we went shopping means we went shopping. As in, we started around 4:30 and ended around 9:30 or so. That's 5 hours for you math-challenged people. We got some really good bargains at Kohl's and Big Lots. As in, pillows (sleeping and throw/floor) for like $5 a piece. Um, heck yes for a college budget! Pretty sure I startled some people in Wal-Mart, which is rather funny in retrospect. Actually, it was rather funny then. I got a call about 8:45 from an unknown number and it took me a second before I realized who the person on the other end was . . . but once I did, I, uh, yelled their name rather loudly and rather excitedly in the middle of a frozen food aisle. Lol, needless to say it made my day of moving in and shopping all completely worth it and much shorter. :)
We start our training tonight. We have a dinner at 5:00, which I guess is going to include a basic introduction to being an RA and probably basic introductions to each other and I wouldn't be surprised if we played some trust-building get-to-know-each-other games. They seem to like those. They haven't told us yet what our schedule is going to be like for the next two weeks. I know I'm going to be really busy, but I have no clue what time we start or what time we end or if I have free time during the day. Eh. I'm sure they'll tell us tonight. I hope.
I finally finished the 7th HP book. I thought she did a wonderful job with this one. It's probably my favorite. I do wish it were longer, just because there's a lot of time there that I know don't know what happened - and as a fan, I'd like to know what happened to the characters I've read about for years and years. I guess she let's our imaginations take that ride on their own. I seriously need to start on some of my school books. My Honors class has five books and some of them are daunting in size. And I know this teacher, we'll be reading all of them and the whole book. Head start sounds like a brilliant idea.
Well, I'm off to get ready for this dinner thing. Gotta shower and all.
Jen
Let's just say that the third floor with no elevators makes moving in a little more difficult than last year's. We made it, though!! I absolutely love my room. I've got some bookshelves, a futon, a nice bed, a cozy space underneath where you can sleep or just lounge . . . it's a nice, cozy, homey room. I think I'm going to really enjoy living here.
My mom wore me out Saturday. We got done moving me in (which means getting everything up here and mostly put together/away) around 4 or so, and then we went shopping. For anyone that knows my mother, saying we went shopping means we went shopping. As in, we started around 4:30 and ended around 9:30 or so. That's 5 hours for you math-challenged people. We got some really good bargains at Kohl's and Big Lots. As in, pillows (sleeping and throw/floor) for like $5 a piece. Um, heck yes for a college budget! Pretty sure I startled some people in Wal-Mart, which is rather funny in retrospect. Actually, it was rather funny then. I got a call about 8:45 from an unknown number and it took me a second before I realized who the person on the other end was . . . but once I did, I, uh, yelled their name rather loudly and rather excitedly in the middle of a frozen food aisle. Lol, needless to say it made my day of moving in and shopping all completely worth it and much shorter. :)
We start our training tonight. We have a dinner at 5:00, which I guess is going to include a basic introduction to being an RA and probably basic introductions to each other and I wouldn't be surprised if we played some trust-building get-to-know-each-other games. They seem to like those. They haven't told us yet what our schedule is going to be like for the next two weeks. I know I'm going to be really busy, but I have no clue what time we start or what time we end or if I have free time during the day. Eh. I'm sure they'll tell us tonight. I hope.
I finally finished the 7th HP book. I thought she did a wonderful job with this one. It's probably my favorite. I do wish it were longer, just because there's a lot of time there that I know don't know what happened - and as a fan, I'd like to know what happened to the characters I've read about for years and years. I guess she let's our imaginations take that ride on their own. I seriously need to start on some of my school books. My Honors class has five books and some of them are daunting in size. And I know this teacher, we'll be reading all of them and the whole book. Head start sounds like a brilliant idea.
Well, I'm off to get ready for this dinner thing. Gotta shower and all.
Jen
Friday, August 3, 2007
Adult?? Now I am!
I got my instruction license!!!!!
Yes, I'm 20. And no, I didn't have a license previously. This is my first permit. And yes, I know I should have done this 4 years ago, but there's a lot to that story, and it just didn't ever happen. But I have it now!!! I'm pretty excited, if you can't tell. I drove home, which means interstate and then in-town driving. Took my dad to the post office first, though. I did a pretty good job. It's going to take some tie before I get truly comfortable, but most of you know that. This is a really big step for me, and I'm proud of myself for finally getting past the fear that's built up over the past few years and just going and taking the test. I know a few of you talked to me about this several times and told me how freeing it would feel to finally be able to drive, and I must say, I didn't really believe you. I do now, though. I feel like I've actually grown up. I'm not really dependent on my parents anymore. I mean, I'll still have to wait a while before I can actually get my license, but this a good step in the right direction.
Anyway, I've gotta pack. I'm moving back to school tomorrow and I haven't even started to get my stuff together. We start training Monday, so I'll keep ya updated on how all of that goes and how all the RA's fit in together in my building.
Jen
Yes, I'm 20. And no, I didn't have a license previously. This is my first permit. And yes, I know I should have done this 4 years ago, but there's a lot to that story, and it just didn't ever happen. But I have it now!!! I'm pretty excited, if you can't tell. I drove home, which means interstate and then in-town driving. Took my dad to the post office first, though. I did a pretty good job. It's going to take some tie before I get truly comfortable, but most of you know that. This is a really big step for me, and I'm proud of myself for finally getting past the fear that's built up over the past few years and just going and taking the test. I know a few of you talked to me about this several times and told me how freeing it would feel to finally be able to drive, and I must say, I didn't really believe you. I do now, though. I feel like I've actually grown up. I'm not really dependent on my parents anymore. I mean, I'll still have to wait a while before I can actually get my license, but this a good step in the right direction.
Anyway, I've gotta pack. I'm moving back to school tomorrow and I haven't even started to get my stuff together. We start training Monday, so I'll keep ya updated on how all of that goes and how all the RA's fit in together in my building.
Jen
Thursday, August 2, 2007
They only stick if you let them
It's corny, yeah, but it's adorable and it always makes me feel a little better. So I'm sharing. :)
You Are Special
by Max Lucado
Some Wemmicks had stars all over them! Every time they got a star, it made them feel so good! It made them want to do something else and get another star. Others, though, could do little. They got dots. Punchinello was one of these. HE tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell. And when he fell, the others would gather around and give him dots. Sometimes when he fell, his wood got scratched, so the people would give him more dots. Then when he would try to explain why he fell, he would say something silly, and the Wemmicks would give him more dots.
After a while he had so many dots that he didn't want to go outside. He was afraid he would do something dumb such as forget his hat or step in the water, and then people would give him another dot. In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and give him one for no reason at all.
"He deserves lots of dots," the wooden people would agree with one another.
"He's not a good wooden person."
After a while Punchinello believed them. "I'm not a good Wemmick," he would say.
The few times he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a lot of dots. He felt better around them.
One day Punchinello met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met. She had no dots or stars. She was just wooden. Her name was Lucia. It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick. Some of the Wemmicks admired Lucia for having no dots, so they would run and give her a star. But it would fall off. Others would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot. But it wouldn't stay either.
That's the way I want to be, thought Punchinello. I don't want anyone's marks. So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it.
"It's easy," Lucia replied. "Every day I go see Eli."
"Eli?"
"Yes, Eli. The woodcarver. I sit in the workshop with him."
"Why?"
"Why don't you find out for yourself? Go up the hill. He's there." And with that the Wemmick who had no stickers turned and skipped away.
"But will he want to see me?" Punchinello cried out. Lucia didn't hear.
So Punchinello went home. He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other stars and dots.
"It's not right," he muttered to himself. And he decided to go see Eli.
Punchinello walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big shop. His wooden eyes widened at the size of everything. The stool was as tall as he was. He had to stretch on his tiptoes to see the top of the workbench. A hammer was as long as his arm. Punchinello swallowed hard. "I'm not staying here!" And he turned to leave.
Then he heard his name.
"Punchinello?" The voice was deep and strong.
Punchinello stopped.
"Punchinello! How good to see you. Come and let me have a look at you."
Punchinello turned slowly around and looked at the large bearded craftsman. "You know my name?" the little Wemmick asked.
"Of course I do. I made you."
Eli stooped down and picked him up and set him on the bench. "Hmm," the maker spoke thoughtfully as he looked at the gray dots. "Looks like you've been given some bad marks."
"I didn't mean to, Eli. I really tried hard."
"Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care what the other Wemmicks think."
"You don't?"
"No, and you shouldn't either. Who are they to give stars or dots? They're Wemmicks just like you. What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special."
Punchinello laughed. "Me, special? Why? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?"
Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly. "Because you're mine. That's why you matter to me."
Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this - much less his maker. He didn't know what to say.
"Every day I've been hoping you'd come," Eli explained.
"I came because I met someone who had no marks," said Punchinello.
"I know. She told me about you."
"Why don't the stickers stay on her?"
The maker spoke softly. "Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them."
"What?"
"The stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about their stickers."
"I'm not sure I understand."
Eli smiled. "You will, but it will take time. You've got a lot of marks. For now, just come to see me every day and let me remind you how much I care."
Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the floor.
"Remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door, "you are special because I made you. And I don't make mistakes."
Punchinello didn't stop, but in his heart he thought, I think he really means it. And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.
You Are Special
by Max Lucado
The Wemmicks were small wooden people carved by a woodworker named Eli. His workshop sat on a hill overlooking their village. Each Wemmick was different. Some had big noses, others had large eyes. Some were tall and others were short. Some wore hats, others wore coats. But all were made by the same carver, and all lived in the village. And all day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing: They gave each other stickers. Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of gray dot stickers. Up and down the streets all over the city, people spent their days sticking stars or dots on one another. The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars. But if the wood was rough, or the paint chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots. The talented ones got stars, too. Some could lift big sticks high above their heads or jump over tall boxes. Still others knew big words or could sing pretty songs. Everyone gave them stars.
Some Wemmicks had stars all over them! Every time they got a star, it made them feel so good! It made them want to do something else and get another star. Others, though, could do little. They got dots. Punchinello was one of these. HE tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell. And when he fell, the others would gather around and give him dots. Sometimes when he fell, his wood got scratched, so the people would give him more dots. Then when he would try to explain why he fell, he would say something silly, and the Wemmicks would give him more dots.
After a while he had so many dots that he didn't want to go outside. He was afraid he would do something dumb such as forget his hat or step in the water, and then people would give him another dot. In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and give him one for no reason at all.
"He deserves lots of dots," the wooden people would agree with one another.
"He's not a good wooden person."
After a while Punchinello believed them. "I'm not a good Wemmick," he would say.
The few times he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a lot of dots. He felt better around them.
One day Punchinello met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met. She had no dots or stars. She was just wooden. Her name was Lucia. It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick. Some of the Wemmicks admired Lucia for having no dots, so they would run and give her a star. But it would fall off. Others would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot. But it wouldn't stay either.
That's the way I want to be, thought Punchinello. I don't want anyone's marks. So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it.
"It's easy," Lucia replied. "Every day I go see Eli."
"Eli?"
"Yes, Eli. The woodcarver. I sit in the workshop with him."
"Why?"
"Why don't you find out for yourself? Go up the hill. He's there." And with that the Wemmick who had no stickers turned and skipped away.
"But will he want to see me?" Punchinello cried out. Lucia didn't hear.
So Punchinello went home. He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other stars and dots.
"It's not right," he muttered to himself. And he decided to go see Eli.
Punchinello walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big shop. His wooden eyes widened at the size of everything. The stool was as tall as he was. He had to stretch on his tiptoes to see the top of the workbench. A hammer was as long as his arm. Punchinello swallowed hard. "I'm not staying here!" And he turned to leave.
Then he heard his name.
"Punchinello?" The voice was deep and strong.
Punchinello stopped.
"Punchinello! How good to see you. Come and let me have a look at you."
Punchinello turned slowly around and looked at the large bearded craftsman. "You know my name?" the little Wemmick asked.
"Of course I do. I made you."
Eli stooped down and picked him up and set him on the bench. "Hmm," the maker spoke thoughtfully as he looked at the gray dots. "Looks like you've been given some bad marks."
"I didn't mean to, Eli. I really tried hard."
"Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care what the other Wemmicks think."
"You don't?"
"No, and you shouldn't either. Who are they to give stars or dots? They're Wemmicks just like you. What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special."
Punchinello laughed. "Me, special? Why? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?"
Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly. "Because you're mine. That's why you matter to me."
Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this - much less his maker. He didn't know what to say.
"Every day I've been hoping you'd come," Eli explained.
"I came because I met someone who had no marks," said Punchinello.
"I know. She told me about you."
"Why don't the stickers stay on her?"
The maker spoke softly. "Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them."
"What?"
"The stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about their stickers."
"I'm not sure I understand."
Eli smiled. "You will, but it will take time. You've got a lot of marks. For now, just come to see me every day and let me remind you how much I care."
Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the floor.
"Remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door, "you are special because I made you. And I don't make mistakes."
Punchinello didn't stop, but in his heart he thought, I think he really means it. And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
It's been 49 days, 50 today, and I still notice
2 days and counting!!
Today is a good day. Because I want it to be. :) I'm at work again, and we still don't have much to do, but you know, that's cool with me. Gives me time to chat with people, read (I should have brought my book), organize stuff, relax, etc. How cool is it to have a job that's paying me to play and enjoy myself? Pretty darn cool, no? My work ethic is a little strained, but I really don't have anything to do, so I guess I can't feel too guilty for not doing something.
I got a futon last night! I'm pretty excited about because it's a piece of furniture, my first actual piece of furniture, and I bought it. It's black and the mattress is black with red micro suede on one side. I plan on ordering a futon mattress cover somewhere that I can put on it so it will match with the stuff I have, or at least blend decently. It was under $200, which is a pretty good deal on a futon frame and mattress - a good mattress at that!
So I'm reading the 7th HP book right now, and I think it's probably the best one. But. I think I'm going to read it again when I get done, that way I can read it and form an opinion. Because right now, I'm reading it to find out what happens and I'm getting rather caught up in the story. I refuse to comment on it so far, in a serious manner that is, because I'm reading it as part of a series that I really, really like instead of reading it as if it were an Honor's reading or whatnot. I have to say, though, that she wrote some wonderful action sequences. Within the first four chapters I was already on-edge and completely engrossed.
I'm off to do some work.
Today is a good day. Because I want it to be. :) I'm at work again, and we still don't have much to do, but you know, that's cool with me. Gives me time to chat with people, read (I should have brought my book), organize stuff, relax, etc. How cool is it to have a job that's paying me to play and enjoy myself? Pretty darn cool, no? My work ethic is a little strained, but I really don't have anything to do, so I guess I can't feel too guilty for not doing something.
I got a futon last night! I'm pretty excited about because it's a piece of furniture, my first actual piece of furniture, and I bought it. It's black and the mattress is black with red micro suede on one side. I plan on ordering a futon mattress cover somewhere that I can put on it so it will match with the stuff I have, or at least blend decently. It was under $200, which is a pretty good deal on a futon frame and mattress - a good mattress at that!
So I'm reading the 7th HP book right now, and I think it's probably the best one. But. I think I'm going to read it again when I get done, that way I can read it and form an opinion. Because right now, I'm reading it to find out what happens and I'm getting rather caught up in the story. I refuse to comment on it so far, in a serious manner that is, because I'm reading it as part of a series that I really, really like instead of reading it as if it were an Honor's reading or whatnot. I have to say, though, that she wrote some wonderful action sequences. Within the first four chapters I was already on-edge and completely engrossed.
I'm off to do some work.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
My wonderful last week at the 4-H office
So I finally decided to write in this thing. I've started entries two or three times, but to no avail. I've lost my ability to write my thoughts and write them well. The urge is still there, but the connection from my brain to my fingers seems to be gone, or dying at least.
I haven't moved to a different country, or even a different state, and there aren't many exciting and wondrous events that happen in my day-to-day life . . . not yet, anyway. Once I get back to school and have freshmen girls to supervise, I'm sure the hilarity will most definitely ensue. For now, though, you'll be privy to my thoughts and observations. Not gonna apologize if they're boring - you chose to read. :)
The 4-H office has been a wonderful place to work for the past two summers, but I am not at all sorry that this is my last summer to be employed here. I love most of the people, I do, but I am more than ready to move on to different occupations and new experiences. Plus, I'm tired of the drama that comes from working in close proximity to a certain person also employed with 4-H. Eh, it happens everywhere. There have been some funny moments from this summer, but I'm smart enough **gasp!** to realize they wouldn't be funny to those who don't know the background and who weren't there for the moment. Just let it be known that we (the interns) have amused this office, and ourselves, and THAT has made this summer wonderful.
Speaking of work, I should probably find something to do a tad more productive with my time and shows them I'm worth they pay they're shelling out. I'm sure I'll be back soon, if not later today.
- J.T.
I haven't moved to a different country, or even a different state, and there aren't many exciting and wondrous events that happen in my day-to-day life . . . not yet, anyway. Once I get back to school and have freshmen girls to supervise, I'm sure the hilarity will most definitely ensue. For now, though, you'll be privy to my thoughts and observations. Not gonna apologize if they're boring - you chose to read. :)
The 4-H office has been a wonderful place to work for the past two summers, but I am not at all sorry that this is my last summer to be employed here. I love most of the people, I do, but I am more than ready to move on to different occupations and new experiences. Plus, I'm tired of the drama that comes from working in close proximity to a certain person also employed with 4-H. Eh, it happens everywhere. There have been some funny moments from this summer, but I'm smart enough **gasp!** to realize they wouldn't be funny to those who don't know the background and who weren't there for the moment. Just let it be known that we (the interns) have amused this office, and ourselves, and THAT has made this summer wonderful.
Speaking of work, I should probably find something to do a tad more productive with my time and shows them I'm worth they pay they're shelling out. I'm sure I'll be back soon, if not later today.
- J.T.
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