My new favorite quote

"But if you wanna leave, you can. I'll remember you though, just like I remember everyone that leaves."

From a Disney movie, no less.

Finals are over. I am hungry. I miss some people. Some I do not.
Basically, life is the same as the last time I posted.

"There is nothing new under the sun"
or
"Everything you did has already been done"

hmm...if this sounds very blah it's because it is genuinely blah outside in Tempe...grey, rainy and overcast. ick.

MOre later, when either the weather or I am more sunny.

International Decisions

I am a Global Studies major, and included in the program requirements is an international internship. I need to do an internship of some kind this summer, and have been researching some options.

One organization is a non-profit, based in India, and is fairly new. The idea is working with women in the smaller towns and communities to help them learn to make goods that can then be marketed at fair wage prices in the global community. It would be an awesome opportunity to learn in a new environment, a great way to really do some work.

Another organization is one based out of Florida that focuses on creating awareness about self harming, depression and suicide. It is an organization that is so full of heart that the writings coming out of it make me cry regularly. It is so creative and in tune with the artistic community that artists all over the world are coming together to help support it. It would be a really good fit for my skills and personality, and an awesome opportunity for contacts.

A last opportunity would be to work in South America, with a program that ASU puts together for their students. It is structured, and there are opportunities for learning about architecture, history, and more Espanol. (And LOTS of photography!)

This is going to be a hard decision for me, but I am so thankful for the choice.

It’s a pretty good time in my life right now.

Cloudy thoughts and injustice

I just left my Violence, Conflict and Human Rights class where we watched a documentary on the methods of information retrieval used in Abu Ghraib. I usually go straight home after, but it’s not likely I’ll be home for a while. I need to process some things that should not be dismissed, and eat some of my favorite comfort food, Chic-fil-a fries. The documentary was not as graphic as you might think, and despite our teacher’s warnings of visual intensity I saw nothing that I had not seen in many blockbuster movies.

There were soldiers that gave their account of the casual decline and orders that led to the less than human treatment of the prisoners. While some of those in the classroom with me might vehemently disagree, I cannot see them as the villainy in the story of those prisoners. I do not condone the decisions made, and I abhor the lack of accountability standards that the soldiers or “guards” held each other to. But I can understand how the slow decline of standards can happen that lead (whether intentionally or not) to grievous outcomes. I can sympathize with a soldier trying to do his or her job, trying to follow orders, and only being privy to information that is deemed useful to him or her. I think I was most disturbed by the soldiers’ description of the numbness that they experienced as they were gradually conditioned to be able to cause pain to a person that they might see daily, and were in some capacity the caretakers of. The psychological effects of this conditioning are equally fascinating and disturbing to me.

There were also prisoners’ accounts of what happened inside the prison. I didn’t expect it, and it didn’t bother me much as far as their description of the torture to themselves was concerned. I believe it was because of the way that they described their own torture. It was as if they were describing a dream that was upsetting, but not quite real. The brave face they put on about their own physical abuse was only unsettled when they spoke of the abuse of others. About the torture of family, of neighbors, of fellow prison mates even, they could not speak without emotion. Each prisoner had an account of someone they knew or knew of who they couldn’t bear to speak of in terms of the pain that they went through. One prisoner, when talking about the physical torture spoke of the inhumanity of being forced to listen to others being tortured. He said during an interview that while sitting in a cell near a prison mate who was being tortured,

“We listened as his soul cracked.”

It speaks to the core of humanity, to the innermost of our beings, they way helpless concern for peers can be more torturous than physical pain. In this same way, the numbness that must occur as a defense mechanism for a mentally healthy person to torture another individual on a regular basis speaks to the core of humanity as well.

This is why I am such a defender of basic constitutionally recognized rights. It is easy to see how a Hobbesian way of dealing with government and large amounts of people in general is such a slippery slope. The Hobbesian way, trading a few rights for the promise of safety or greater good has many ideological flaws. A fundamental problem that arises when you give up rights for safety or greater good is that you are allowing someone else to determine what is safety. How safe is safe enough? How many rights/fundamental ideals must be bent or broken in order to reach that safety? Can we ever expect our government (or anyone else for that matter) to truly keep us safe?

Small perpetrations against humanity for the safety of humanity seems like a circular way of thought, and one of which the human spirit can only survive a finite amount of revolutions.

I think I could write about this topic for pages and pages. The idea of Justice and Injustice is what drives me, and this is a parallel argument I think. I’d better finish my fries and head home, watch some mindless TV and sleep off this heavy cloud.

Growing Mojitos and Voter Fish Registration

Relaxing last Saturday night consisted of:

*Sitting on my couch reading Thomas Hobbes’ “Of Commonwealth” (for fun).

*Drinking a mango Mojito whose label read “Premium Malt Beverage with the natural flavors of Mango and Mojito”. Then, (obviously) pondering where the Mojito grows naturally, and from what sort of plant does it come, and who are the industrious people who grow and sell them to the likes of me.

*Amy Poehler and Seth Meyers are warbling political commentary from the TV in the background. Poehler is wondering why a goldfish named “Princess Nudleman” is a registered voter, but then settles that It is due to the fact that Princess Nudleman is the “most awesome gold fish name ever”.

All of these circumstances lead to the inclination to write them down, if for no other reason than to have record of a moment, that when thought about too long, is both funny and slightly sad.

ANd then...

One day when she least expected it, it was Autumn.


It seemed as if the summer would never leave, that her throat would be dry forever and the time for hoodies had fled-never to return.


But on this, the most amazing Friday, when she opened her front door to leave for work, she was not greeted by the wall of heat that accompanied every other God-forsaken day. Instead there was a pleasant coolness and slight breeze.


Today, she is genuinely happy.

food in tubes?

So I was walking on campus yesterday and I caught only half of some girl's conversation, but it was enough to boggle me 24 hours later...

"...and she used the whole tube!! I mean, I told her she could use it to make her chicken salad, but she used ALL of it!"

Now, I don't eat meat so maybe I can't remember what goes in chicken salad-BUT I still can't think of anything that comes in TUBE form that would be an ingredient.

Any ideas?

Come-briation. (comedy+innebriation)

Many of you know that I do not own a car of my own. And while I like to pretend (or lead people to believe)that this is due to my unending care for our planet, and concern for my eco-footprint; it is in fact because last semester my beloved Jeep Wrangler (quite the gas hog) blew up. Living in Tempe-a very college town-has its advantages though. One such advantage is the free public transit, by way of the Orbit.

The Orbit stops right in front of my apartment, which works out just fine for me. The bright blue (reminiscent of a short bus) transit is the best supplier of high quality people watching that there is . If you are very lucky, some really interesting conversations are there to be had as well. Last week, I was lucky enough to have an interesting conversation as well as witness one of the best drunk-bus riding exhibitions I have yet to see (all in the same ride no less!)

This whole story hinges on the fact that my afternoon class on Monday got canceled, allowing me to go home at 3:15 instead of the usual 7:15 routine. I don't often ride the bus that early in the day,-normally having a previously mentioned class or work-but I was soon to find that there is an entirely different crowd that rides the early afternoon bus.

I got on the Orbit (mine is called the Venus line…I assume they named it for my passionate beauty…but I digress) as soon as it reached the stop where I waited. I was eager to read my New York Times and soak up the air conditioning while we waited for our driver to take his 5 minute stretch break. Since our driver was early, there was only a few of us on the bus waiting for him, when we first meet our plainclothes heroes-Patrick and his buddy(whose name I think was Fuck Off, as that's what Patrick kept calling him, but I guess I can't be sure). Patrick literally stumbles on to the bus and towards back row of seating, and his buddy issues a warning to anyone in his way-

"Watch out, he's probably going to fall over! Already has once or twice. I think."

While I'm pondering why Patrick's buddy could not remember if he had fallen yet, Patrick pipes up and introduces himself,

"Hello everyone, I'm Patrick. I'll be the drunk on the bus today."

Clearly, this is going to be an entertaining ride home. Patrick slumps down in a seat that is awkwardly close to the black man (now, like Mr. Colbert, normally I don't see color or race, but it becomes important to the story later) sitting next to him since there are plenty of seats available that are not directly next to anyone. I get a little disappointed at this point, as it looks like Patrick is close to passing out, ending too soon the tomfoolery I was looking forward to having to occupy me rather than my newspaper for the rest of the trip. Patrick's buddy starts to get off the bus and as an afterthought turns and tells Patrick that he's getting off the bus to have a cigarette. Patrick sleepily nods, and I get the distinct feeling that he may not have actually comprehended what his friend said-but maybe more that his friend was speaking in his general direction. My feeling is confirmed when about five minutes after his friend exits the bus, Patrick's head snaps up and he searches among all the faces still seated, and when he doesn't find the familiarity he's looking for, you can read the confusion on his face and he stumbles to his feet and out to the pavement of the bus stop.

Off the bus, he finds his buddy smoking a cigarette just like he told the rest of us (since apparently Patrick wasn't listening). Patrick says something muffled by drunkenness (or the window blocking the conversation) and then leans on the bus. Meanwhile, and to the delight of the rest of us bus riders, the driver gets back on and straps himself into his seat preparing to leave. There are a few of us who have been actively interested in this Patrick saga unfolding in front of us during what we thought was going to be an otherwise uneventful bus ride, and it seems to dawn on us all at the same time that Patrick is still leaning on the bus even though it is about to pull away. The guy across from me who is sitting closest to where Patrick is leaning looks over his shoulder out the window at our drunken bus-mate, (yes, we feel a certain camaraderie towards and because of him) turns and smiles knowingly at those of us who seem to be paying attention.

This bus driver is not one of the regulars that I know by face. He is a thin, old man of maybe 70 who looks like he would be a kin to Orville Redenbacher, and reminds me faintly of my Grandpa who never seemed to really be listening to you-but instead floating in an alternate reality…or maybe just deep in thought. He is perhaps unaware of our drunk bus-mate who is currently using the bus for leaning on, and begins to drive away. So slowly does our driver start out, that Patrick does not notice at first and he begins to lean like one of those V8 commercials.

There is a break in traffic, and our driver punches the gas a little to make the merge. Patrick stumbles almost all the way to the pavement in bewilderment, and his buddy finally realizes that the leaning Patrick was not a product of the drunkenness but actually because the bus was leaving without them. He pounds on the side of the bus and then catches up to the door to pound and catch the old driver's attention. His efforts are rewarded by a driver who looks supremely surprised and stops the bus to let them both on-much to the excitement of some of us(the man at the back who was previously Patrick's seat mate looks less than enthused).

Patrick again stumbles to the back and his previous seat (man, his seatmate looked bummed) while his friend is forced to stand toward the front because of the lack of seating on our now relatively full bus. We make a few more stops, and the bus gets quite a bit fuller-there are no seats at all now and many people standing in the aisle holding on for dear life to the overhead "Oh Shit" bar since Orville seems to be as attentive to his driving as my Grandfather was to conversation. One of these standers looks down and notices I have a newspaper on my lap and asks,

"What's in the headlines?"

I grimace because I hate this kind of bullshit conversation, and look up into the face of another drunk man. (Can I interrupt my own story here to remind you that it is in fact, 3:30 in the afternoon, and there are TWO noticeably drunk people on my bus. Some kind of social commentary joke could be made here, I'm sure…) He is looking at me expectantly, waiting for an actual answer. I am not sure what he wants me to say, so I go the sociable route with,

"Oh, you know. Nothing good."

This seems to be exactly enough for him, and he looks me right in the eye and says angrily,

"Ya. They're a waste of tax dollars!"

I am admittedly very confused and not following his drunk line of thought so I skim the headlines to see if he's speaking of something particular. Finding nothing I can relate to his comment I ask,

"Newspapers?"

"Yes. "

There are far too many witty, sarcastic and too-thoughtful-for-this-drunk-guy remarks flying around my head at this point in our conversation for me to pick just one. My brain seems to be jammed on the fact that this guy thinks that newspapers are somehow publically funded and that his anger about this faulty assumption is amplified by alcohol. I glance at the guy sitting next to me who I can tell is now following our conversation, see that he is as amused as I am, and respond,

"Alright."

It is possible that my new drunk conspiracy theorist friend would have furthered our conversation, but it is at this point that Patrick's buddy yells for the driver to tell him when we are approaching the stop at 5th and Hardy since that is he and Patrick's stop. Someone tells him that his stop is coming up, so he turns to tell Patrick who is passed out and actually leaning on the guy next to him.

"Can someone wake him up? Slap him, that's usually what it takes."

The guy that Patrick is leaning on looks like he is about to take this advice when Patrick leans up and says,

"Fuck off, I'm awake."

"Well, get up man, we're almost to our stop. And stop leaning on homeboy-you're lucky he hasn't socked you yet"

"Fuck off, I'll kick his ass," he says while still leaning on "homeboy" who now looks twice as pissed at being called this negatively assumptive term. Patrick jumps up though, and almost falls onto an older Mexican woman who is minding her own business. Our bus comes to a stop and Patrick looks at the woman who is now unabashedly staring at him and says,

"And I'll kick your ass for staring at me."

Then, as he proceeds down the aisle and off the bus he points randomly at about every other person and states,

"And I can kick your ass. And yours. And yours. And yours 'cause you're staring too. And yours."

The bus driver finally seems interested in this exchange that he perceives to be possible danger but the rest of us know is just drunken attempts at humor. By now Patrick is at the front of the bus and notices that the bus driver is glaring at him in judgment and annoyance to which he replies,

"And fuck you, bus driver, for driving when I'm drunk."

We were a community of sorts brought together on the bus that day by circumstance, and thrust into solidarity by the comedy of two drunk men.
And it was as a community that we all laughed as Patrick exited the bus, tripping down the stairs as he went.

on courage.

I'm not sure what possesses us to act contrary to our personality, but I'm pretty sure in most cases it can be attributed to fear-driven, snap decisions.

Fear.
Of being alone. Of change. Of the unknown future. Of not knowing ourselves.

So we get defensive. Turn into animals, ignoring reason. Fleeing any uncomfortable situation or fighting against any change in a pitiful attempt at self preservation. Fooling ourselves into thinking we can somehow remain the same-that it is better to stay remain same.

Bravery. Courage.

Is thinking ahead. Is self-awareness. Is knowing our weaknesses. Is strategy.

If the only way to combat this fear filled state of nature is to use reason and logic to think larger than ourselves, then we must. We must be aware of ourselves enough to understand how and why we will react to certain situations and strategize against our instinct.

Bravery, courage is knowing what we truly fear, and not letting that fear reduce us to instinct.

love love love.

"lightning...struck my brain."

I’ve had an epiphany today while at work. (or maybe I was just reminded again, of something that I already know)

It’s likely that I am too verbally judgmental…especially when frustrated. (or hungry..or tired…or on sunny days..)

I have a hard time dealing with people who can’t keep up. Mentally, or in work situations, or with wit. (and even with driving…slow drivers make me nuts) I have that artist’s eye that doesn’t let any detail escape. I have that writer’s ear that scrutinizes every word spoken (or misspoken.) So in situations where I am beginning to get frustrated with someone’s perceived lack of competence, often my brain starts to make a tally of all the other things that annoy me about that person.

I am ashamed to say that they are always petty and superficial.**

So here is my confession. I am a petty, superficial, judgmental awful person. Sometimes. I am forgetful, I think. Of the fact that not everyone was blessed with an amazing family, to give them wisdom and instruction. Not everyone had a good set of friends (I didn’t always) to help them stay on the right path and make good decisions. Not everyone was given a perfectly healthy body, or not everyone came out of adolescence with theirs still in tact.

I am lucky, and am grateful to be sure.

But what I am going to try to be less of from now on, is forgetful. More understanding, more patience, give out more love. Because that, guys and dolls, is what it’s all about.

Love love love.

**Sidenote:To my friends who know me best, I’m sure you have seen some of this from me lately. Even covered with wit and humor, this is no way to be. I am not a bully, and loathe those who are. I sincerely apologize for my less than charming rants, and hope you will remind me in the future if I start to head off in that direction.

Speaking of...

In the interest of keeping yours, heres a brief life update...

I have fond memories of the Olympics from as far back as I can remember. And yet, athletic I am not. What an amazing feat of advertising.

On that same note, I would really like to go to see the Olympic games firsthand at some point in my life.

Other:
I had Bob the Brilliant help me convince a friend about this game theory, we had been of different minds about it. BUT it was fun, and I love figuring things out. Especially with other people.

I am taking 6 classes this fall. That's 17 credits, for any of you pumpkins who might be wondering. I may die, but it's also likely that i am the most driven and focused person you know. In either case, say a little prayer for my poor brain this semester. (and my feet...one class is a dance class!)

More thoughtful writing soon.

Adventures in the Mathematics and Statistics Department

SO, Monday was my first day as Friendly Front Deskette. I am happy to report that it was pretty uneventful. I’m also happy to report that I met some really interesting people, one in particular.

I don’t want to publish his name for fear that somehow he will get wind of this (ahhh my notoriety) and take it the wrong way. Let’s call him Bob. My first encounter with Bob was while the girl who was training me was on the phone and he came up to the desk and offered me some M&Ms. (Oh I like this guy already!) He just offered them and then walked off hurriedly, no doubt to some Mensa meeting on another floor. He came back by about 20 minutes later, apologized for only offering candy and not asking my name and introduced himself. He looks every bit the part of the quirky but brilliant Math professor, hair a little too long, outdated clothes a tiny bit askew, and an awkward but harmless smile.

The rest of my “training” (which consisted of understanding the mail room and all the intricacies of alphabetizing) was pretty hum-drum, until Bob showed up again. He darts into the office, grabs his mail and asks,

“So is Jessica interested at all in Math?”

(Curb the sarcastic snorts, cats.) Meanwhile, I swallowed my own snort and replied,

“Mildly.” (Insert your snort here.)

Whatever is the most opposite of being interested in Math, I am most certainly that. I’ll admit, I was a little taken aback that he mentioned Math in a context that suggested that it could be a hobby, some sort of leisurely free time waster. Perhaps that is why I answered a little less than truthfully. (Ok, one more snort.)

At my answer, Bob grabs a paper out of his box and plops it down in front of me and continues flitting about the office. Written on the piece of copy paper in the neatest blue INK handwriting I’d ever seen was the same equation written out four times, the only difference being one variable. (or whatever the actual Math term is) After a few minutes, Bob darts back over and smiles a satisfied smile, as if I should not be staring at a page feeling like I am reading Greek, but in fact understanding the depth of the theory he has just come up with.

Being the witty conversationalist that I am (and hoping for future M&Ms) I ask,

“So, Bob, what’s this all about?”

Yep. What in the world possessed me? I guess the ever inquisitive student in me hoped Bob the Brilliant could explain it in magical terms that my artsy little mind could understand, and he DID explain the theory to me…unsuccessfully….for what felt like half an hour, but turned out to be five minutes. (Maybe it was a theory on bending time through Mathematical theory discussion-in which case, his theory seems sound)

He made it sound so important-like he had just changed the face of Math-that I told him I felt like I should take a picture of it. (I really wanted to actually, every good blog post is better with a picture after all) To that he replied,

“Well, this is what cameras were made for.” (Photo-documenting Math theories? Seriously?)

Other than being an interesting person, I envy his drive. Or maybe the love he has for his work. I only hope I can have the same love and devotion for my work when I move out into my field. (I later found out that he sometimes works all night on Math problems/theories and sleeps in his very cluttered office or enters the theories in his computer only to take over when the computer without fail freezes after 50 hours of solving)

I’m sure there will be more interesting encounters with Bob the Brilliant. I will keep you posted.

“And a happy happy to you too.”

Do you ever play the quote game? Probably one of my favorite pastimes is innocently eavesdropping or accidentally overhearing people’s conversations and relaying the often funny parts I hear to absent friends via text.

“He likes to get an early start on his Sabbathing.”

This game’s an amazingly good time waster, and I’ve found there is no end to the funny quotes to quote-especially when I’m on campus and attempting (unsuccessfully) to do homework, study, or write a paper. I’ve even contemplated putting together a small ‘zine just for fun full of silly things seen and heard on campus. Maybe I should call it “Seen and Heard” like Harriet the Spy.

At any rate, there have been a few things tumbling around in my head since the last post. (More than a few actually, I’ve been remiss with my posting this week) It seems I’ve had more than one conversation lately about Christians and how much influence they have on Christianity just by carrying that label. I think it started with a discussion at church by a well meaning, but less than well educated person on the topic of other religions. It occurred to me somewhere in the discussion that if Christians keep teaching each other what they think they know, but in reality have no authority on, the Christian community will never get any more mature. Hmm…I will leave this thought at that-feel free to hollar me if you want more.

“….Boogie Wonderland…..”

Another tumbler is the idea of context. I suppose there is a certain amount of responsibility that comes with interpreting any text or manuscript. Being a writer like I am, I know how carefully words can be chosen, how much care goes into completing a thought, how much work goes into communicating an idea or concept. Right along with my quotes game previously mentioned, or the never ending “That’s What She Said” game, anything can be twisted into any meaning whatsoever when taken out of context. Tempting though it may be, there is more satisfaction to be had in cutting to the true meaning of a passage than in pulling out key phrases or sentences in order to back whatever misfired thought that may be tumbling around at that particular moment. To be more to the point (it may not only be in my head that thoughts are tumbling) using the Bible in whatever way we so choose to back whatever argument we choose is very risky business.

“Heeey Dad! He made a smiley face!”

Lastly, and tumbling at a rapid rate, is my excitement about a new job as well as for the new school year. (They go hand in hand, somewhat) I have a new job on campus at ASU in the Math and Statistics department. Those of you who know me and my scholastic aptitude may have just laughed, but no no friends, I’m serious. I’ll be answering phones, running errands, filing, and other odd jobs that have little to nothing to do with the mathematical discipline. I believe my actual title is “Friendly Front Deskette” and it will be my personal mission to make the “Nerd-ery” (not my words) more personable as well as fashion forward. (LOL Elle Woods would be SO proud)

“This was an omen from the start!”

Monsoons

The cicadas just started their sunset song outside. I left for a 10 day vacation from the scorching Phoenix heat to Lake Powell, and turns out it was the exact right amount of time. Because on my return I find that monsoon has bloomed. My favorite part of these almost unbearable summers. The wind, the lightning storms, the sudden rain downpours, the amazing rain-smell that the greasewood bushes give off, the desert green and the slight humidity all signal a few things to my thirsty, parched heart.

On the heavy, life is in constant flux. Those of us who live here know that the desert hides beneath its seemingly dry, dead shell nothing short of explosive life. All it takes is one good rain for the desert to remember what it’s like to be full of life again. (there is a time for everything…life, death, growth…) I’m not sure I really need to unpack that thought any more, but in case you aren’t picking up what I’m laying down…maybe this cycle of growth and life and death and re-growth can apply to us as people. The way we grow and learn and how we painfully wait out dry seasons with faith that the first glorious rain will soon be on its way.

A little less heavy, I love living the communal life. Living on a houseboat with about 10 other amazing people for a week just makes me wonder why we as a society moved away from the daily communal goodness. I mean, as a student of sociology and anthropology, I understand the process. It’s just that somewhere in my heart I can’t fathom why we decide to live such distant lives from even those we say we love the most. It could also have something to do with the two books I’m reading right now but mostly I think it may have more to do with the way I’m wired. Seems to me the early church was just a group of people that decided to live everyday together, forgiving the little faults that are bound to happen in close quarters and making sure everyone was taken care of because they just plain loved each other, and their Maker.

On the light side…school is coming soon and I can’t wait. Dreams of new planners and pens and books and the anticipation of a good semester are just buzzing around in my head. (Don’t judge me. I have said before I’ll likely be a lifelong student…that doesn’t mean I’m a total geek.)

AND lastly, a little advice from my vacation-it is likely as unwise as they say it is to rock climb by yourself. Because if you happen to jump from one rock to another and sprain your foot, then continue on for another hour or so, there is no one but yourself to blame when later that night you cannot walk and your foot is twice its normal size. The kicker-I didn’t even have a camera with me, so to add insult to injury, I have no good pictures to show for it.

Love love love.

Megan!

First, let me say that this year was a trying one for me. I have moved on, so I won't bore you with details, but I will tell you that in the face of loneliness and total separation from everything I used to love I was given newness. Not the store bought cat-nip kind previously mentioned, but something far healthier.

I was re-introduced (or reminded?) of friends that I have had since I was little and growing up in my church. Meg and Melissa who I went to Tatum with, along with their parents and Megan's husband Jon have been such positive forces and examples of how I am well taken care of by the One who knows me best. Seems like I've read somewhere about how friends who are bonded together by Him can be closer than family...

And on the topic of family, mine is the best. My Dad is a never ending beacon of support and wisdom. My brothers and sister and their spouses are some of my favorite people to be around. We laugh more than anyone else I know, and have a language all our own. I am privileged to say that my sister is one of my best friends, and I am a better person for it.

At any rate, this particular blog is written in celebration and thanks for some amazing people that I have been given.

I hope you are lucky to have the same kinds of close friends/family. I know I am.

Megan doesn't know it yet, but I changed her homepage to my blog.(...thats why the title is her name)

You should too.

New.

I am a sucker for the new.

New clothes, new shoes, new places to eat, new music, new tattoos, new hair, new books. Somewhere in my head it's something a kin to exploring. Finding new favorites is like, the new last frontier. And listen man, I am just the girl to "boldly go." (3 points if you got the Star Trek ref.)

This craving for the new unknown gets me into trouble however. I know it's hard to believe that moi, the queen of frugality, the duchess of wise decisions could possibly get herself into a heap of trouble, but yes, it happens.

I can talk myself into anything. I can justify it all. It is like a catnip haze I slip into when shopping or eating at the new greatest place or seeing that new movie. I am tricked by the ambiance of food patios, the glow of the brightly colored cellophane packaging, the smell of new beautiful heels.

This, my sympathetic friends, is no way to be. Live with this insatiable appetite too long, and you'll find you have a lack of anything of substance and a surplus of bills.

SO. While reading one day, (proverbs 31 round verse 23 through 26) my sometimes slow, but brilliant little mind put together an effective budget plan. I am happy to report that as of yet, your girl has been steadfast in her resolve to save and spend wisely. You'd be surprised how many free budget making resources there are on out there on the interweb! I guess it may be an indication about the financial values of our culture...

All of that being said, here are a few of the *New* that I am excited about:

-Matt Nathanson (i know he's been around a while...but I just discovered my love for his lyrics)
-Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
-Viva la Vida
-The new neon printed shirts from TWLOHA
-Brayline...check it out on myspace
-Kung Fu Panda
-photography (ok this isn't new...but I forgot how much I loved it)

Let me know if you try any of these..and if you love them like I do.
I'll leave you with some of Mr Nathanson's lyrical genius from his song, Come On Get Higher:

" I miss the sound of your voice
the loudest thing in my head
and I ache to remember
all the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said


if I could walk on water
if I could tell you what's next
make you believe
make you forget"

Happy Father's Day!

I've been feeling a familiar pull lately. I get restless sometimes. Like an itch under my skin starts, signaling that i need to spend some time alone, some reflection time, some time with the One who knows me best. It seems no coincidence that this time it happened right around Father's Day.

My heart lately has been focused on a few feelings that have been hard to understand. So the prayers have been something to effect of, "Just give me a definite sign," or "Just make this decision clear to me," or better yet "Just make this decision FOR me?" I am certainly not in favor of giving ultimatums to the Creator of the Universe, but sometimes, well a girl just needs some stinkin' answers.

So yesterday, after working my shift in the oh so glamorous hotel, I headed home with a plan to spend some Father's Day time with the Father of all. I made a date with Him, and turns out, He accepted.

I packed some food and a thermos of my favorite Orange Blossom tea and headed to the Beach Park. (Let me just sidenote here that I feel totally ridiculous calling it the "Beach Park" when it is, in fact, in the middle of Tempe, in the middle of the desert...and there isn't even any sand.) I also brought my journal, my bible, and purposefully left my summer reading material at home-to avoid distraction.

The walk there was pleasant, due to an uncharacteristic cool breeze, and the Zen was playing all the songs I love. The first thing I always do is walk by the Center for the Arts, because I love the water features that they have. The combination of the roaring water noise, cool breeze, and humid smell from the lake could almost make you think you were at a real beach. (If you closed your eyes. And wished real hard.)

I took a bunch of pictures, and found a spot where I could sit and read/write/pray for a while. It was really good to just turn off the phone and not care what else was going on in the world for a little while. It is so hard to find quiet peace.

Yesterday I found peace in the One who whispers my deepest desires straight to my heart.

What I found out is this:
I am loved. (so i should stop worrying so much)
I am taken care of. (He will fulfill all of the desires He created me with)
I am a work in progress. (so I shouldnt be so hard on myself)

Tomorrow I go back to the job and the week begins again, along with all of its' commitments. Hopefully I can carry this peace with me back into the flurry of normal life.

*Another sidenote: right when I was in the middle of some intense divine conversation, out on the lake somewhere in the dark calming quiet a guy yells "ICEBERG!!" I don't know if I should think about that too hard...but at the time I just laughed.*

I'll share the photos soon, hope you enjoy.