inevitable future

I'm currently at Panera bread, drinking coffee and using the free internet for homework/not homework. There is a table next to me of about 14 women, all 60-75 years old, and delightfully distracting. They are all talking over each other, one more excited than the next, sharing things like, "She wasn't allowed to go out until she was 18 years old," "Well, Rene Zil-Rene Zellweger; she did a movie about just the same thing!," "It really says something about the way a child learns, doesn't it? Doesn't it?"
I love it.

finished project

a recent e-mail to a friend

[message from me to Monica in response to an event invite.]

so i looked at the event and when i saw that it is at the elemenatry school, i'm not going to lie, i thought, "they are going to watch an elementary school soccer game? how strange. maybe its a sibiling." it just occured to me, probably because of my unathleticness, that you probably meant to invite people to play, not watch.

----------------- Bulletin Message -----------------
From: Monica
Date: Mar 27, 2007 7:29 PM


Random Soccer Game
Hosted By: Dayna and Monica, does it really matter?!
When: Sunday Apr 01, 2007
at 3:00 PM
Where: Oneill Elementary School
24701 San Doval Ln
Mission Viejo, CA 92691
United States
Description:
Dayna and Monica, does it really matter?!

if i were famous would you be my friend?

Tonight I did another photo shoot with my friends. They are still great. We went to this random wall on the side of a 7-11. The lighting was good, and the backdrop great. There was urine on the wall, so I didn't make my friends get too close. People kept stopping and staring. Did it actually look professional? Some guys asked what it was for. I told them a magazine. They asked which one and I said, "No, not really, but it sounds better." We took pictures until my battery died.
My friends came back and we stayed up talking. It is now 3:17 AM. I have work at 5:30 AM. I'll be staying up.
In a nice set of cirumstances we moved my my bed fame, box spring and comforter from my room to the vacant room downstairs, so I am now sitting in vacant room, comfortable, but not too comfortable (I don't want to fall asleep at this point), listening to Imogen Heap. Good.
I got the album today and also My Morning Jacket, Amos Lee, Pretty Girls Make Graves (trendy indie pic of the day), and Sigur Ros. Much needed new music.
Music, friends, pictures. All my favorite things. Good day.
The picture above is from the picnic, which is a favorite as well.

i held the key to the lock of my chains

Have you ever held something heavy, like a box or a bag, for so long that your muscles feel numb until the weight is moved, and the freedom from the weight, the movement in another direction, actually hurts more than when you were holding on? As you stretch out your arm, you can vividly feel each muscle pulling and straining in a way that makes you return your arm to the holding position, though there's nothing there to grasp.
I've been holding my fear for a long time.
My mom has been asking me what's wrong for a while. Each time, holding tighter to the fear knowing the pain to stretch out my heart, I offer fatigue or stress in excuse, hardly knowing my own truth anyhow.
Last night I went to the room I call "mine" where my parents live. Sitting in an oversized chair, curled up like I once sat to read in the summer, I ran my finger along outdated textbooks, journals, old music, and a framed picture of some high school friends. It was then I realized this room was no longer mine. It belongs to a girl with dreams, and pains, and a life I sometimes can't remember.
That night I talked to my mom. I started to let go. I told her how I felt about my room, how I didn't know what home was, but I didn't know why it made me act differently toward her. She hugged me, and as I timidly held on it was when I realized; it wasn't just that I didn't know what home meant to me anymore, it was that I didn't even know what "mom" meant anymore. Certaintly not what it meant just three years ago when I was still that girl in the picture frame.
"I guess I've grown up. When did that happen?"
She cried.
I let go.
My heart stretched out and rather than pain, I felt relief; the kind where now your arms feel more free than they ever have, like the might float off your body.
I let go, and the sun is a little brighter.
I'm still not sure what it means to be "grown up," and I still feel dumb for thinking it to be such a new big thing, but there it is.
My room is my room, but in a different way. My mom is my mom, but not quite the same. My decisions are my own, my future unkown, and the flowers ready to be picked.

observatory

Today I cut my finger drawing on the sidewalk. Actually I was blending the chalk on the sidewalk with my fingers. Having my finger cut has made me much more aware of how much I touch things, and how often that goes unnoticed.
My friends and I had a picnic today. It is wonderful to have friends who like to have picnics. We made sandwhiches with french bread, some nice cranberry cheese and honey turkey. There were berries and madelines and a kite to fly. Some friends from school came over from a picnic of their own, and the sun kept us warm between breezes. What a great day. Please let me know if you like picnics and we can have one sometimes. I'll bring the food if you bring the blankets and other accessories. We took polaroids that I'll add later.

It was a late night last night. Four shots of espresso, a cup of AMPM coffee, and an hour of sleep later, and I still need more of both. My friends let me dress them up and take pictures until 2am. They are the best. It used to be that this time of the morning would bring the most inspiration, now it's filled with emptiness. Maybe I'm getting old. Doubtful. I've yet to buy an alcoholic drink legally. . . or illegally for that matter.
Here's a tip: BUY TOM'S SHOES. They are great. This guy (Tom) went to Argentina and realized that they make great shoes, but don't have enough money to put them on their children. He went ahead and started making the shoes, and now for every pair sold he gives a pair to a child in Argentina. (www.tomsshoes.com)

I looked into the eyes of a Nepali child tonight. He looked familiar, and I searched his face until the image faded on my computer screen. A Thai marketplace appeared and I felt the humidity of a cramped vendor, overflowing with people and things. Progressing to more people, runners in Nepal in a feild with monkeys then came aglow. Each image felt so close that I could almost close my eyes and be back. Each day I feel closer as I actually become further away. I'm not sure what to make of that.

Last night I mentioned to Jenny that I wrote something, and she asked me to put it up. It was written in my car between classes, listening to Ray LeMontagne as I tend to do. Here it is:

Today I thought about Biola. I considered all the different backgrounds of people. There are baptists, pentecostals, methodists, conservatives and liberals, pro-Bush, anti-war, peace loving, tax hating, gay loving [which I will add is meant in a positive way, though some in an unfortunate place may see it differently], freedom fearing, lonely, peaceful, Spirit-filled, searching, sheltered and shelterless; most of whom are between 18 and 25 years old. Then I looked at big creepy Jesus. Now, I don't believe that real Jesus was either physically large (in fact, the Bible describes Him as meek) or creepy (although undoubtedly different and radical), but this Jesus mural is both. Big creepy Jesus stands painted on a building in 40 foot glory, arms extending a very heavy looking, closed Bible, grasped between his hands. His hands and the Bible pages are both fleshy pink, and when I am not walking by in apathy, strangely used to this painting, I sometimes think of how they shouldn't be pink, but some sun bathed leather brown.


That is all. There isn't much time between classes. Speaking of which there isn't much time to sleep before my next.

A Brand New Day

Well, I have a new blog. I had an old blog, but people like my relatives and teachers read it so they knew what I was doing when I was in Nepal. Although I don't plan on putting anything offensive on here (too often), I thought it would be nice to do something new.

I've been wanting new a lot lately. Maybe because everyone else is doing new. Marriage, moving, graduating; it's all new. Me; I'm back to the old. School, work, spontaneous filling of time. Last time I felt this way I moved to Maui and Nepal. Don't worry, though, I'm staying here for now.

This is one that

married. She moved to Texas.

These two moved to Texas, too. I need to talk to Texas about not taking my friends anymore.

Anyway. So read if you'd like. Maybe I'll say profound things. Probably I will talk about how I dislike my theology of mission class, and really like coffee.