I'm frustrated mostly because I have no backbone. Because I want to stand up for myself, but when the moment presents itself, I can do nothing more than smile and speak no words. For the words that would spill forth from my mouth would most assuredly destroy any semblance of peace, of rapport, of goodness that I have previously established.
I'm letting people walk all over me. Instructors, landlords, friends. And it doesn't feel good. It leaves me feeling sick and sad and mostly alone.
Too often I feel that if I do manage to speak what's actually on my mind, it will destroy me, personally, more so than the person to whom the wrath is directed. The guilt I feel for saying nothing or doing nothing overpowers the guilt for thinking that I should divulge what I'm feeling.
This adds to the guilt complex I have regarding my faith and my "goodness" as a Christian. If I'm thinking these mean thoughts, what is the point of projecting smiles and kind words. Isn't that the essence of hypocrisy? Why would I want to let that dance in around my life?
It seems the upcoming changes--the necessity for professionalism, the new home, the living on my own for once, the second graduation (or, third, I guess), the living near a most wonderful friend--perhaps these things will give me enough inertia to focus my energies on developing a backbone.
30 November 2006
28 November 2006
The usual
Today I consumed over 101 ounces of water.
I dont usually keep track, but decided since I had forgotten to refill my water bottles I might as well count up the daily total.
In all honesty, the day is not over yet, and I have a partially filled bottle sitting next to me. Surely it will be consumed in the next hour.
For some reason, Blogger is not letting me use apostrophes right now. Annoying, but please bear with me.
Did I mention I only have 18 days left here....that is it.
I dont usually keep track, but decided since I had forgotten to refill my water bottles I might as well count up the daily total.
In all honesty, the day is not over yet, and I have a partially filled bottle sitting next to me. Surely it will be consumed in the next hour.
For some reason, Blogger is not letting me use apostrophes right now. Annoying, but please bear with me.
Did I mention I only have 18 days left here....that is it.
24 November 2006
My girls
Most of the people in my family who actually have digital cameras forgot to use them this week during our family Thanksgiving extravaganza.
I managed to sneak a few snapshots here and there with my mom's digi-mon, however, so I could share the cuteness of my nieces.
This is Katie: 18 months, who has somewhat of an anger management problem, and yet still manages to turn on the sweetness and charm when she feels like it. Please note the most adorable little outfit she has on in the second picture - it's from the wedding last Saturday.
Here she is at my cousin Brian's wedding a week ago. Precious!
I managed to sneak a few snapshots here and there with my mom's digi-mon, however, so I could share the cuteness of my nieces.
This is Katie: 18 months, who has somewhat of an anger management problem, and yet still manages to turn on the sweetness and charm when she feels like it. Please note the most adorable little outfit she has on in the second picture - it's from the wedding last Saturday.
And let's not forget Madeline, at 4, who is the most imaginative and strangest cookie ever, but who I adore more than anyone.
Here she is at my cousin Brian's wedding a week ago. Precious!
Pomegranate Paradise
My contribution to the family Thanksgiving dinner revolved around the dessert table, as usual. Thanks to a couple of my friends at school, I've received some magnificent cake recipes this year. Kate and I recently experimented with a pumpkin cake and cream cheese icing. I can't even explain the scrumtralescence of that first bite. Kelly gave me the idea of adding pomegranate seeds as a garnish, not only because the individual seeds resembele jewels (garnets), but also because the blend of flavors--pumpkin, cream cheese sweetness, and the pomegranate burst of soury goodness--makes it the perfect Fall food. Hands down!
This is what it looked like when it all came together.
This is what it looked like when it all came together.
We also had a black raspberry pie, as well as a pecan pie. Only one of which I tasted (because I love fruit pies).
Kelly provided some interesting facts about pomegranates (I love fun facts!):
Every pomegranate is composed of exactly 840 seeds, each surrounded by a sac of sweet-tart juice contained by a thin skin. The seeds are compacted around the core in a layer resembling honeycomb. The layers of seeds are separated by paper-thin white membranes which are bitter to the tongue.
The fruits are ripe when they have developed a distinctive color and make a metallic sound when tapped.
The pomegranate is equal to the apple in having a long storage life. It is best maintained at a temperature of 32° to 41° F. and can be kept for a period of 7 months within this temperature range and at 80 to 85% relative humidity without shrinking or spoiling. The fruits improve in storage, becoming juicier and more flavorful.
I also tried my hand at another recipe I found online for Pomegranate Grenadine. I was shocked to find that it was the central ingredient for the syrup that we all enjoy in Shirley Temples. I thought it'd be a nice addition to our beverage table, what with blackberry wine, water, and milk.
The recipe I had for the grenadine claimed it took about 10 minutes to prepare. That is, of course, after the time it takes to collect all of the seeds from the skin (a time consuming task). I enjoyed it, though, because I'd never handled this fruit before. Here is a picture of the process:
After 3 hours of peeling out the seeds, stirring them over a low flame, squeezing and pressing out the remaining juices through a very small hand-held strainer with the handle of an ice cream scoop (the only thing we had that closely resembled a pestle), and then adding sugar and stirring over the flame again - all I had was a cup and a half of sweet-potato-smelling red goo. It was not good and stunk to high heaven.
Leslie made fun of me mercilessly for wasting my time. But in all honesty, I didn't mind that much. I had nothing else to do and I had tried something new. It failed, but now I know not to do that again. I'll buy grenadine next time I need it.
The pomegranate experiment, however, with the pumpkin cake was pulled off with perfection. You should definitely try that. The pomegranate season lasts from October to January, I believe, so get one soon. And let me know what you think.
17 November 2006
a long reprieve
I'm going home. Which is exciting in and of itself. I don't have to go to the grocery or "cook" for myself. I don't have to get up early or go to bed before I crash. These are good things.
I'm going home for a week. Eight lovely days. This is needed, considering I'm going crazy in my little room. But there is one other thing to look forward to, and that is moving into my own apartment.
I found out yesterday that I now have somewhere to live when I start my job in January. It's a lovely apartment and will be at least four times the space I have right now. Ah! Space!
I can't even express how thrilled I am to move on, to reach the stage of life I've been dreaming about since I was 8 years old - adulthood. Up till now I've been a student, which in a way is mutually exclusive from adulthood, at least for single students.
A friend of mine has mentioned several times how interesting it will be to see if I change or how I react to having a normal schedule without the pressure of homework and due dates, etc.
I hope to be freer - both with regard to my time and internally. To get back to the point where I can sit in silence or be still without feeling like I should be doing something else. Not that I think adult life means no stress. Of course I've been around long enough to have observed that everyone has stressors. I'm seeking balance. That's what I really want to find.
Today I realized the significance that creating music has in my life. Over the past six years I have progressively reduced this process from my life. Maybe this is why I've grown more and more unbalanced as I've finished my degrees. The joy of making music, being the origin of that beautiful experience, is something I cannot wait to reintroduce to my life. Just a few short weeks. Or a month, maybe two.
I'm going home for a week. Eight lovely days. This is needed, considering I'm going crazy in my little room. But there is one other thing to look forward to, and that is moving into my own apartment.
I found out yesterday that I now have somewhere to live when I start my job in January. It's a lovely apartment and will be at least four times the space I have right now. Ah! Space!
I can't even express how thrilled I am to move on, to reach the stage of life I've been dreaming about since I was 8 years old - adulthood. Up till now I've been a student, which in a way is mutually exclusive from adulthood, at least for single students.
A friend of mine has mentioned several times how interesting it will be to see if I change or how I react to having a normal schedule without the pressure of homework and due dates, etc.
I hope to be freer - both with regard to my time and internally. To get back to the point where I can sit in silence or be still without feeling like I should be doing something else. Not that I think adult life means no stress. Of course I've been around long enough to have observed that everyone has stressors. I'm seeking balance. That's what I really want to find.
Today I realized the significance that creating music has in my life. Over the past six years I have progressively reduced this process from my life. Maybe this is why I've grown more and more unbalanced as I've finished my degrees. The joy of making music, being the origin of that beautiful experience, is something I cannot wait to reintroduce to my life. Just a few short weeks. Or a month, maybe two.
14 November 2006
I forgot to mention the 4th thing that made me nervous in the wedding.
#4) When the officiante said my most hateful word not once, but twice in his less than ten minute charge to the bride and groom. I thought I was going to fall over. Elaine was laughing so hard behind me, she was shaking, and across the aisle, Ben, the guy I walked down with, he was laughing, too. They both knew I was struggling to contain my revulsion.
#4) When the officiante said my most hateful word not once, but twice in his less than ten minute charge to the bride and groom. I thought I was going to fall over. Elaine was laughing so hard behind me, she was shaking, and across the aisle, Ben, the guy I walked down with, he was laughing, too. They both knew I was struggling to contain my revulsion.
13 November 2006
I was in the most wonderful wedding this weekend. Liz and Chalupa got married, and although at times it felt as if it all happened very quickly, I find myself wanting to say, "it's about time!" Probably because they were made for each other.
Practical Liz is so organized that for the bridesmaids, at least, the wedding day wasn't stressful. I hope the same can be said for her.
There were a few times I was really nervous, however, throughout the event on Saturday.
#1) As I stepped up to the microphone to read the Middle English poem that Liz had picked out years ago for this very day, in order to keep my hands from shaking while holding the paper on which the poem was written (with my pronunciation hints), I ended up directing all the nervous energy to my legs. It felt as if my entire body, except my hands, was shaking. I was sure it was obvious from the audience, so I kept my eyes glued to the sheet of paper I was clutching.
#2) When I heard the cds that Liz had picked out for the reception were MIA, I realized that the music a typical DJ would play at a wedding would be completely inappropriate for this wedding. And when Michael W. Smith came on...I knew something was wrong. Five minutes later when Celine Dion blasted from the speakers, I almost passed out. Not because I was overjoyed. Not because I was disgusted. But because, despite my affinity for her, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Celine is the last musician on earth that Liz would want to hear on her wedding day. Luckily, before any more CCM treasures made it to the playlist, the DJ found her cds. All was well after that.
#3) While I enjoyed immensely catching up with some of my favorite people in the world, I was shocked to discover that some strangers wanted to converse with me. One in particular must have made a bet with his friends, something like "I bet you won't go talk to her"...followed by a shaking of hands. I say this because he sat down introduced himself and said, "So, you speak Middle English...there, I broke the ice." I was nervous at that point, because I realized what it was. And the next few words out of his mouth, "I've been meaning to come talk to you all night," cemented my need for nervousness. Bless his heart, he tried. He must have talked for nearly an hour. His friends on the dance floor were laughing at him the whole time. He covered every base - every topic he could muster. But it all came down to his parting comment: "Here's my proposal for you."
At that point, friends, I stopped him and asked that he never use that word in my presence again. "I hate that word," I said, completely deadpan. After asking for the story behind this detestation, I was saved from having to hear his "proposal" or "non-proposal," as he tried to revise it after hearing my story. I got up to say goodbye to my good friends and from that point I every so slowly, but deliberately moved away from this man. He made me anxious. (not in that cute "he makes me nervous" sort of way, either)
For a wedding weekend, I think being nervous only 3 times is pretty spectacular.
Congratulations, Liz and Chalupa!
Practical Liz is so organized that for the bridesmaids, at least, the wedding day wasn't stressful. I hope the same can be said for her.
There were a few times I was really nervous, however, throughout the event on Saturday.
#1) As I stepped up to the microphone to read the Middle English poem that Liz had picked out years ago for this very day, in order to keep my hands from shaking while holding the paper on which the poem was written (with my pronunciation hints), I ended up directing all the nervous energy to my legs. It felt as if my entire body, except my hands, was shaking. I was sure it was obvious from the audience, so I kept my eyes glued to the sheet of paper I was clutching.
#2) When I heard the cds that Liz had picked out for the reception were MIA, I realized that the music a typical DJ would play at a wedding would be completely inappropriate for this wedding. And when Michael W. Smith came on...I knew something was wrong. Five minutes later when Celine Dion blasted from the speakers, I almost passed out. Not because I was overjoyed. Not because I was disgusted. But because, despite my affinity for her, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Celine is the last musician on earth that Liz would want to hear on her wedding day. Luckily, before any more CCM treasures made it to the playlist, the DJ found her cds. All was well after that.
#3) While I enjoyed immensely catching up with some of my favorite people in the world, I was shocked to discover that some strangers wanted to converse with me. One in particular must have made a bet with his friends, something like "I bet you won't go talk to her"...followed by a shaking of hands. I say this because he sat down introduced himself and said, "So, you speak Middle English...there, I broke the ice." I was nervous at that point, because I realized what it was. And the next few words out of his mouth, "I've been meaning to come talk to you all night," cemented my need for nervousness. Bless his heart, he tried. He must have talked for nearly an hour. His friends on the dance floor were laughing at him the whole time. He covered every base - every topic he could muster. But it all came down to his parting comment: "Here's my proposal for you."
At that point, friends, I stopped him and asked that he never use that word in my presence again. "I hate that word," I said, completely deadpan. After asking for the story behind this detestation, I was saved from having to hear his "proposal" or "non-proposal," as he tried to revise it after hearing my story. I got up to say goodbye to my good friends and from that point I every so slowly, but deliberately moved away from this man. He made me anxious. (not in that cute "he makes me nervous" sort of way, either)
For a wedding weekend, I think being nervous only 3 times is pretty spectacular.
Congratulations, Liz and Chalupa!
08 November 2006
the nonsense continues
Whispered to me by a fellow classmate at the coffee kiosk during a 15-minute break from a 3-hour philosophical discussion of rhetoric, language, and "human science"...
"Are you bored out of your skull?"
I could think of no better description for my current state of mind.
"Are you bored out of your skull?"
I could think of no better description for my current state of mind.
06 November 2006
As a follow up to yesterday's happiness is...
Happiness is practicing a Middle English love poem to read at a friend's wedding.
05 November 2006
Happiness is...
A bag of marshmallows
Finding a childhood story come alive
Graduating with your best friends
Celebrating with a Birthday buddy!
Reuniting with old friends
Seeing a butterfly emerge from a cocoon
Kissing the
Playing with old toys
That first bite of birthday cake
Dressing up for Halloween
Spending time with sisters
Happiness is knowing that you are loved no matter where you are, no matter who you are, no matter what.
03 November 2006
My latest poem
It has no title, but was inspired during class this past week.
His words bounce around my mind like bubbles: pretty, yet elusive and meaningless.
His words bounce around my mind like bubbles: pretty, yet elusive and meaningless.
This is how I feel...
"My Rules"
If you want to marry me, here's what you'll have to do:
You must learn how to make a perfect chicken-dumpling stew.
And you must sew my holey socks,
And soothe my troubled mind,
And develop the knack for scratching my back,
And keep my shoes spotlessly shined.
And while I rest you must rake up the leaves,
And when it is hailing and snowing
You must shovel the walk... and be still when I talk,
And -- hey -- where are you going?
From Where The Sidewalk Ends, by Shel Silverstein.
02 November 2006
Today's greatest definition
this is the given definition to a term for one of my courses:
"the agreed amount of time between when a content creator creates content and the time the content creator allows for the content to appear on the content provider's system."
What is it about that statement that makes sense to anyone?
Crazy librarians.
"the agreed amount of time between when a content creator creates content and the time the content creator allows for the content to appear on the content provider's system."
What is it about that statement that makes sense to anyone?
Crazy librarians.
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