Christmas Break Goals Revisited

Major fail. I tried, though, I promise.

1. Read three books. I've read two so far (Drops Like Stars by Rob Bell and Real Sex by Lauren Winner, which is better known as "That One Sex Book Lauren Winner Wrote") and I have about a chapter left of Wild at Heart which, yes, I started well before Christmas break. I'm non-committal. I can't finish books I'm not excited about--not anymore anyway.

2. Volunteer five times. Heh, try zero. It's really hard to volunteer after you haven't for a few months. Major fail.

3. Do my Sojourn homework. I started it! I'm 1/3 through it. I've also done other stuff for the paper, i.e. making handouts for the staff, planning how I'm going to do edits next semester, contemplating what should change about this semester, making goals, etc.

4. Write a paper. No, I didn't do it. BUT I have some ideas for poetry and creative non-fiction pieces. That's a start, right?

5. Get a tan. I went a few times, but I didn't care enough to keep paying money to go. I'm not pasty white anymore, and that's all that matters to me.

6. Practice being wise with money. Nope. I went broke buying Christmas presents ... and tickets to a Decemberists concert. Even bigger fail.

7. Update resume/apply for internships. This I did well. I wrote a cover letter, updated my resume, and updated my website (my online portfolio). I did a huge transformation to my site, at the request of my boyfriend who demands everything be clear and simple. (Meh, he was right.) This was probably my greatest accomplishment over break. I'm happy with how the site looks now. It still needs a little work, especially on the multimedia page, but I think it looks a lot better. Future employers, here I come!

8. Take care of Body. I did pretty well with this too! I only pigged out a few times this break, and only because it's the holidays. I've eaten tons of healthy foods (salad! vegetables! hummus!) and smaller portions. And I've only been drinking water ... and Old Crown coffee. I also got Wii Fit for Christmas, which has helped me stay active. Believe it or not, that game works. I'm not a huge fan of the aerobic exercises--because I don't think they work all that well--but I love the yoga and strength exercises. How can push-ups not be good for your body?

9. Blog/write for fun. Okay, I haven't done much of this either. I've journaled a bit and have written a few poems, as you can see from my blog, but I haven't done a whole lot. Like I said before, I wrote a cover letter, which is definitely writing. I haven't abandoned my love completely.

10. Relax. Mmm. I've done this too. Guess how many episodes of How I Met Your Mother do you think I've watched? Maybe 100. How many times have I seen dear Nathan? Seven. (Which isn't enough, obviously, but it's pretty impressive for a 3 1/2 week break, and we live an hour apart.)

--

Break's almost over for me. I move back to campus on Thursday and Sojourn workshops start Friday afternoon. I think I'm ready for the semester. I'm a little scared because my schedule looks intense, but I'm excited for a lot of the classes (mainly my two Mary Brown courses).

I've always had a soft spot for spring semester anyway. It seems more romantic for some reason. There's nothing like walking to class at 7:45 a.m. when the sky's still black.





Lauren

Christmas Break Goals 2010

Okay, I used to do this all the time. Every Christmas, spring, and summer break I'd make a list of goals I want to accomplish. Especially with three and a half weeks off, I figured this would be appropriate to do.

Some goals. (Note: Some are completely shallow. Some seem very self-righteous. Let those two balance each other out.)

1. Read three books. Ideas: To Kill a Mockingbird, finish Wild at Heart, Drops Like Stars, a book by Brian McLaren, probably one of the five I asked for for Christmas.

2. Volunteer five times. I miss InAsMuch. I miss working with people one-on-one. 


3. Do my Sojourn homework. Yeah, so the Sojourn has homework.


4. Write a paper. There are so many comm. theory papers I want to write.... I don't know if I'll actually write them, but I want to research them, just for kicks. Honestly, this will help me with my senior project next year.


5. Get a tan. Yup. I'm doing it. Sorry, anti-tanning-booth people.


6. Practice being wise with money. Okay, so in general I'm not bad with money. I can make $100 last me a month if I have to. BUT now that I have money and a consistent income, I need to practice saving and investing and using less of my disposable income on crap I don't need (i.e. food). Basically, I need to budget.


7. Update resume/apply for internships. Summer will come fast.


8. Take care of Body. My poor body has had it rough this semester. Over break I want to get in the habit of sleeping 7-9 hours, eating healthfully, doing physical activity, etc.


9. Blog/write for fun. Yeah, so who has time for this anyway? At the middle of the semester I was decent at updating my blog, at least for poetry. I need to keep doing this. I only have a few writing classes next semester, I can write more for fun. Really. I can. 


10. Relax. I need to do a lot of this. I have had a crazy semester. Tons of work. Upper-level classes. A boyfriend. Geez. I'm exhausted.






Lauren

Life updates, August 2010

I haven't blogged to just blog in a while. I've written a lot about PLC; I've written a few creative pieces, but I haven't just blogged.

Granted, most of the time I blog I have some muse to inspire me. I'm muse-less. I'm reading an essay by Ray Bradbury about "feeding and caring for your Muse," but it hasn't helped. I'll be back to school soon and will have plenty to write about. So, no worries. (Were you worried?)

But, stuff has been going on, so I'll update you.

Updates:

1. I'm in America. Yes, I'm adjusting well. I've spent 20 years and two months in America; two months away isn't going to do much difference. I wish it did, sort of. I wish I viewed my life completely differently (but for the better) now that I'm home. I wish I was more thankful for my freedoms. I wish I spent my money on the children in Iraq and not on Old Crown coffee.

2. I have a boyfriend. For those of you who don't know the story, Nate and I started talking when I was in Iraq - the first week I was there, actually. We had a few classes together at IWU. (Fun fact: one of my first memories of Nate was when he beat me in Scrabble. Bah!) We're "official" now, and have been for 3 1/2 weeks.

3. I'm going back to IWU soon. I don't know the exact date, but I'm heading back early for Sojourn workshops. I am the managing editor this year (second in charge, I guess), so I get to plan said workshops. It's kind of fun. But also extremely stressful and hectic and frustrating.

4. I have a million half-read books on my bedside table. I started reading a few books in Iraq and in transit (Jayber Crow, Teaching a Stone to Talk) and started a few more now that I'm home (The Zen in the Art of Writing, The Copy-Editing and Headline Handbook), but I've only finished a few this summer. I'm disappointed in myself. Last summer, 19 books. This summer, 3.

5. I was in the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette this morning. I was interviewed about my internship. You should read it, then feel led to donate to PLC and #RemedyMission.

Kashrut pt. II

Kashrut Update:


It's been 36 days of Lent (I'm counting weekdays too) and I am pork free. I haven't had a cheeseburger; I haven't had seafood; I haven't had sausage at Sunday brunch in Baldwin.

Basically, I'm doing amazingly well. I could do this forever, really. I'm far more disciplined than you Gentiles anyway.

--

Yeah, so this has run through my mind a lot: observing Kashrut has made me really proud of my Jewish heritage. But not the good kind of pride either. In the words of the Avett Bros.: "... [Like] the kind in the Bible that turns you bad."

I think discipline is good, but I'm worried that I'm forgetting the part of the Sermon on the Mount when Jesus talks about being humble when you fast and pray, by not making a big deal out of it. I like to make a big deal out of it. I mean, come on, I ate Kosher for Lent. How cool is that?

The other part of me kind of hopes I embrace this pride. Because on Easter Sunday, that pride has to go away. I will be able to eat pork and meat/dairy. My Gentile brothers won't be "less" than me anymore. I imagine that will be humbling.

--

Whichever it is, I have been craving Bdubs like crazy. Ugh, just to dip chicken in Ranch dressing. ...






Laur

Title Track: Thanks, Postman

I find myself in a bit of a pickle.

See, it’s the middle of the semester: the time everyone just wants to give up and quit, letting grades slip and procrastination kick in. It’s almost spring break – one more day! – and I’m burned out.

So I watch TV. I want my brain to take a break from reading and writing to laugh at Jeff Winger on “Community” or get swept up in the drama of “Heroes.” I’d like to stare at the black box in front of me for an hour and detoxify from everything school-related.

But I can’t. I blame my major.

You know how professors warn you that “this class will kill your love for [insert your favorite major-related activity]”? I’ve heard it more than once. But as a communication major, my love for the media not only gets killed, but beaten relentlessly, kicked around and spit on. So much for detoxifying.

In my media and society class, we’re reading Neil Postman’s “Amusing Ourselves to Death,” which is about how this generation’s prominent form of communication (the media, specifically television) affects the way we think and the way we discover truth. Because television is the predominant medium of our culture, we have become conditioned to certain things. Like, we expect information to be given to us in quick sound bytes and we expect to be entertained.

This doesn’t really sound like a problem, until you really start to think about it. It’s fine to want TV to be fast-paced and entertaining, but if you expect everything to be fastpaced and entertaining, there’s a problem.

Postman argues that our attention spans have been shortened by TV (and, though he wrote the book prior to the Internet, I’m sure he’d agree it has played a part). We can’t stay focused if the content isn’t entertaining.

Take sermons for example. During the school year I go to a liturgical Presbyterian church. The service bounces from prayer to song to Scripture-reading to homily pretty fast – only 20 minutes maximum for each section – yet still I find myself getting fidgety. I’m not the only one, either. The lady in the pew in front of us always does the kids’ word search in the bulletin.

The longest I have to stay focused is only 20 minutes, and still I cannot handle it. TV, what have you done to me? Or think about class: How long do we listen to the professor before we start perusing the Internet? Not very long.

Even as I write this, I see the truth in this. Every time I get writer’s block, I check my Facebook. I can only handle homework for short periods of time before I look for entertainment.

This is why I’m in a pickle. I feel too guilty to watch TV, but know no other way to rest my brain from school work. I wish I had never read Postman and could back to ignorantly blaming my lack of attention on undiagnosed A.D.D.

I’m left to wonder what I should do. How can I rest my brain without damaging it more with television?

I could read – but even I, an avid reader, don’t want to look at tiny print after I’ve spent hours writing a paper. I could play Sudoku – but even that involves a certain amount of math.

Maybe the problem is our time frame for rest. Most of us take sporadic breaks throughout the day between homework assignments. We spend Saturday mornings doing homework then have fun Saturday night.

What if we tried it the Jewish way – what if we worked really hard six days a week and left a whole day for rest, for Sabbath? Instead of taking minor breaks, what if we took one big break.

We wouldn’t need to squeeze in a television show here and there, but could spend the day shopping in Indy or taking a road trip to see friends.

Whenever I think about Sabbath, I get really uneasy. I’d much rather take smaller breaks every day than have one whole day of rest. But when I think about what I’m taking my breaks with – mindless television shows that do more damage than good – the idea of Sabbath becomes more appealing.

Because even though I like watching shows like “Community” after several hours of homework, I don’t feel rested once the episode is over. Most of the time I want to watch another episode and forget about homework completely.

So what do you think, do we try setting aside whole days for rest? Or do we continue bouncing from activity to activity to keep ourselves amused?

The post was originally printed in Indiana Wesleyan University's The Sojourn newspaper.

Creed

I wrote in my journal today about how I understand why ANGER is one of the Seven Deadliest Sins.

I'm really sick of people's attitudes.
What's worse is that I can't even pretend that my attitude's any better.
I roll my eyes at people who say mean, bigoted curses,
but then I think worse thoughts in my head.
I need a refocus.

I'm reading a book of sayings by the Desert Fathers, early church monks who lived in the desert (duh) to escape society and politics. I can't get one line out of my head:

So it is with anyone who lives in a crowd; because of the turbulence, he does not see his sins: but when he has been quiet, above all in solitude, then he recognizes his own faults.

There's so much truth to that. I think about what I said a few posts ago, about "revertigo," how whenever I'm on campus I start losing focus on things that matter. It's because there are so many distractions. So much is going on. There's so much to do.

At home, my bedroom is my monastery.

Here, though I live in community with my sisters in Christ (my fellow "nuns," to continue the metaphor), I can't get the quietness of a real monastery. It's keeping me from seeing my sins ... perhaps because I focus too much on others'.

I really need a refocus.

--

Over Christmas break I wrote a creed, a statement of beliefs in rhetoric that I understand, emphasizing points that I believe to be most essential. I imagine this is a work in progress.

But, in light of that perhaps unnecessary preface, here is my creed:

We believe in God, Maker of all we can and cannot see.
We believe in the Trinity: the holy relationship of Father, of Son and Spirit.
We believe that one Third of the Trinity, Jesus Christ, became human to liberate us.

We believe He was born of a virgin’s seed, lived on earth as a human, was tempted – like us, suffered – like us, but remained without fault.

He was tried and put to death as a threat to the Empire. And on the third day he resurrected, reacquainted with his followers, and ascended into heaven.

We believe in sola gratia – that only through God’s radical forgiveness we can be Liberated.
We believe in sola fide – that only through taking Jesus seriously can we receive His Grace.
We believe in sola Scriptura – that only through God’s Speaking can we know this Truth.

We believe in the universal Church, acting as Christ to the world: professing peace, love, grace and justice. We believe in the Kingdom already established on earth, and not yet complete.

Amen. 

--

Is there anything in my creed you would emphasize more? Is there anything you'd emphasize less? 

Observations

I've been back at Indiana Wesleyan for a few days now, and I'm ready to make a few observations before I go into school-mode. (Right now I'm in lazy-mode. Am I going to start my Prose homework for Thursday? Nope. That's what tomorrow's for!)

1. Let's start here with you, Mr. Blog. The most obvious (okay, subtlest) observation is that I have a tendency to write in my blog with nearly perfect grammar, but rarely do I capitalize the title of my blog post. I capitalized this one only because I noticed it. I should try to be more consistent, you know? It was cute back in middle school to use lowercase letters all the time. It's kind of lame now, don't you think?

(I watched nearly all four and a half seasons of How I Met Your Mother over break. This will give context to my next observation.)

2. I think when I'm at IWU I have "revertigo," a state of being Marshall named on HIMYM. When I'm here I start acting like I acted all of last year. I tried to stop myself last semester, but I fell into the pattern. When I'm at IWU, I am an IWU student. It's kind of awful.

I'm not a bad kid here - that's not really the issue. I just don't take my spirituality as seriously. (Probably because "everyone else is doing it.") I read my Bible more at home. I pray more at home. I spend more time contemplating spiritual matters at home.

Here I get really angry at Christianity and act all elitist and snobby. Which isn't good. Stupid revertigo.

3. For the past few weeks I have been paying attention to my eating habits and the way my body reacts to things. It's fascinating, really.

I noticed first that when I am anxious I lose my appetite. So when I am anticipating an interview with a celeb (ha, which happens rarely enough), I can't eat. When I like a boy, and I know I'll see him soon or if I just saw him, I lose my appetite. When I'm awaiting an important phone call or email, I lose it as well.

But when I'm stressed out I eat more than usual. When I'm angry or depressed I eat more than usual.

Over break I paid special attention to my eating habits in relation to how I felt physically, how much I weighed and how well my pants fit. I should have graphed this out, honestly, because it taught me a lot about the effects of food on my body.

For the first week of break, I was anxious so I didn't eat much. I was down ten pounds from my "normal" weight. (The weight I've maintained since senior year.) After Christmas parties, I started drinking soda. I hadn't had pop since the summer, save for a glass or two at a restaurant or Baldwin when I craved it. By the end of the holidays I was back to my "normal" weight and I felt like crap and my pants were tight.

So I drank water. Lots of water. I craved pop, gave in every once in a while, then drank water when I started feeling sick again.

By the end of break my pants felt nice again, I felt nice again, and though I didn't weigh myself again, I think I'm a few pounds below my "normal," or just there.

So I paid attention to my body. I think it's important, honestly. It's kind of an act of worship - not of my body, but as a way to make sure my (overused Christian metaphor) "temple" is, you know, in tact. I don't want to risk using more Christianese by saying "it's suitable for Jesus to dwell within it." Ha!

4. I read a lot of blogs. During my music appreciation night class tonight, I read about 20 of the 35 blogs I inconsistently follow. (I have three that I read as they're updated and about three more I read when I have free time.) Rarely do I have time to read those lower down on my blogroll. Today I had time. And it was glorious.

One of my favorite blogs is by a guy named Daniel Florien, an evangelical-turned-atheist. Rarely do you hear of people like this. I hear about the atheists-turned-evangelical, like Lee Strobel and Josh McDowell, but never those who (God forbid) abandon the faith. That was slightly irreverent. It's that revertigo again.

I don't mean to take this leaving-the-faith thing lightly. But I wonder if we're (Christians) the reason a lot of people abandon faith in God or never figure out who Jesus is for themselves. If we are the body (oh my Casting Crowns ...), and we are full of hate and ungrace, then I bet it looks like God's the same way. Or that we Christians are full of it when we say that God is Good though we are Pompous and Rude.

[I want to note that Daniel Florien didn't stop believing in God because of other Christians. His conversion (or anti-conversion, if you will) was entirely intelligence-based. I also learned that from reading his blog.]

5. I overuse parentheses. I usually don't, honestly.

I also overuse those dangling guys too: "comma honestly," "comma really," "I mean comma."

So like Buddy Glass in Seymour - An Introduction, I will offer you condolances in the form of a parentheses bouquet: (((((()))))). Enjoy.

Today I sat through Prose with Dr. Allison, and I fell in love with writing. It's funny: I wasn't writing, but I was falling in love just listening to Dr. Allison talk about writing. It's a good feeling.

He talked about how writers must write as though they believe in absolute truth. When I blog, I present my ideas as if they were true - or at least I believe they're true, or pretend that I do for my audience's sake.

That blew me away.

I will blog about this shortly, fear not.

Dr. Allison also talked about how it's not as important to find my voice as a writer but to find a voice. When you establish your own voice you can limit yourself. I've seen that. I am so comfortable writing in my quirky-yet-professional bloggy voice, that I forget that I need to stretch myself.

Anyway, that's pretty profound ... or at least mildly interesting. To me. Ah, fragments.


Mmm enough for now.
Comment if you wish.
Sorry this was long and not so deep.
But that's okay.
Right?



Of course.

With love and squalor,
Lauren Deidra

Title Track: Christmas Story

My dad’s favorite Christmas movie is “A Christmas Story,” the one about the dorky kid Ralphie who wants a B.B. gun, but everyone keeps telling him that he’ll shoot his eye out. My sister and I think our dad was like Ralphie when he was a boy; he had the blond hair and glasses to prove it. And I’m sure my dad asked for a gun, but never got one.

Every December I start feeling really mushy and sentimental and I watch a million cheesy Christmas movies on Fa-La-La-La Lifetime. I think I’m looking for a favorite Christmas movie, because I still haven’t found one.

Instead of watching movies, my favorite thing to do around the holidays is retelling the Christmas story – the one about Christ’s birth, not a Red Ryder B.B. gun. I try to retell it differently every year on my blog, but I don’t know how successful I am. A story that pertinent is often told best in its original text. (Maybe I should leave it to St. Luke.)

But I liked how I retold it one year, and I want to recreate that. (Read between the lines.)

Christmas is not just a time for evergreen trees, Wal-mart sales, holiday feasts, decking the halls or watching the “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” It’s a time for, well. …

Around the time of Elizabeth’s amazing pregnancy and John’s birth, the emperor in Rome, Caesar Augustus, required everyone in the Roman Empire to participate in a massive census – the first census since Quirinius had become governor of Syria. Each person had to go to his or her ancestral city to be counted.

Christmas is a time to mend broken relationships – even when it’s your best friend’s roommate’s sister who stole your boyfriend away. Forgive. Even when you really don’t want to do it, forgive.

Mary’s fiancé Joseph, from Nazareth in Galilee, had to participate in the census the same way everyone else did. Because he was a descendant of King David, his ancestral city was Bethlehem, David’s birthplace. Mary, who was now late in her pregnancy which the messenger Gabriel had predicted, accompanied Joseph.

Christmas is a time to reclaim family. If you’re like me you’ve spent most of the year complaining about them (or to them). During the Christmas season, pretend you’re the Cleavers. Try to get along with your siblings, even when they drive you mad.

While in Bethlehem, she went into labor and gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped the baby in a blanket and laid Him in a feeding trough because the inn had no room for them.

Christmas is a time to forsake selfishness. Most of us receive 26 paychecks a year. Use one of them (or part of one) to buy a present for the Salvation Army Christmas Angel Tree or donate the money to a charity.

Nearby, in the fields outside of Bethlehem, a group of shepherds were guarding their flocks from predators in the darkness of night. Suddenly a messenger of the Lord stood in front of them, and the darkness was replaced by a glorious light – the shining light of God’s glory. They were terrified!

Christmas is a time to be a kid again. Play in the snow. Wake up early on Christmas day. You have plenty of time to worry about grown-up responsibilities after Christmas.

Messenger: “Do not be afraid! Listen! I bring good news, news of great joy, news that will affect all people everywhere. Today, in the city of David, a Liberator has been born for you! He is the promised Liberating King, the Supreme Authority! You will know you have found Him when you see a baby, wrapped in a blanket, lying in a feeding trough.”

Christmas is a time to reprioritize. As important as school is, are you spending more time improving your grades or with the people you love?

At that moment, the first heavenly messenger was joined by thousand of other messengers – a vast heavenly choir. They praise God. … “To the highest heights of the universe, glory to God! And on earth, peace among all people who bring pleasure to God!” …

Christmas is a time to remember your Savior; it’s a time to relish in his Grace. It’s easy to get into the zone of the holidays, forgetting its true meaning under all of the shopping sprees and cheesy holiday specials on TV.

Don’t forget that this is a holiday that shook the world.

Everyone who heard their story couldn’t stop thinking about its meaning. Mary, too, pondered all these events, treasuring each memory in her heart.

Merry Christmas, IWU.

The blog was originally published in Indiana Wesleyan's the Sojourn newspaper.

Chaos

I ... am ... blogging in the middle of a crowded hallway. That kind of sounds like a joke or the introduction to an anecdote - but it's not. It's just true.

I was talking to my friend Molly last night, hashing out everything that I've been thinking about for the past week or so. Nothing is organized. My dear thoughts are all over the place.

Breathe.

I keep forgetting to breathe.

Madelaine L'Engle in her book "Walking on Water" talks about creating cosmos from the chaos. I think I want that. But how?

I've been really good at compartmentalizing everything. I reserve thoughts about school to the afternoon hours, thoughts about boys to the night. But I can't seem to do that anymore.

I want to detox.

I told Molly last night how I wish I could write poetry to get these feelings out, to express them in an appropriate way ... but all my poetry comes out as prose.

This is my poetry.

The closest thing to it.

Words that don't mean much.

It looks a lot like

Poetry,

but it's not.

When Jesus was on a boat during a windstorm, he slept. His apostles poked him and woke him. Sleepy-eyed Jesus told the storms to stop and they do. Then I bet Jesus went back to sleep.

God, teach me how to rest during this storm!

I was reading an old Xanga blog post of mine which talked about this topic. Even in my naivety, I understood the benefits of storms - to go through them, not to avoid them. Not to organize them. But to let them change me.

Dear God, I hate this chaos.

But let it transform me.

Get out your measuring cups and we'll play a new game
Come to the front of the class and we'll measure your brain
We'll give you a complex, and we'll give it a name

high-maintenance

I like to think of myself as having a calm, type-B personality. But this wouldn't be true. I am one of the most type-A, high-maintenance, OCD, frazzled person you know - shy I may be.

A couple of observations:

1. When my roommates were out of town for the weekend, I cleaned. Everything. We have two rooms and a bathroom between us, and I spent Saturday morning scrubbing, vacuuming and reorganizing. When they got home Sunday, the messes returned. Ugh.

2. I got a B on a paper. Not just one B, no, this has been my third B in this class this semester. I once even received a C. And it's a writing class - I'm supposed to be good at writing. I am working so hard at not being cliche in my writing that I am as a result very confusing and ineffective. Fail. Here's your 82%.

3. I will sell my soul to a project. I can't let things go. I will be the infamous workaholic parent if I'm not careful.

4. I lie awake at night making plans. I focus on my projects (see #3). I think about my grades (see #2). I think about how messy the room is around me (see #1).

My poor soul has forgotten how to rest.

This ... isn't an ideal way to live. Shocking, I know.

Part of this is my personality - I am a driven and goal-oriented person. But I am also giving into worldly demands. I don't have to be the best. I don't have to have things my way.

I need a Sabbath - from everything.

"Do not be afraid, O worm Jacob, O little Israel,

for I myself will help you," declares the LORD,
your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.

oh mediocre

My Facebook status the other day was: "You know your life is uneventful when your dreams involve finishing homework (on time) and attending class (again, on time and fully clothed)."

And it's true.

The past few weeks I've been dreaming about school: about waking up, going to class, interacting with my professors, winking at a cute boy, then starting my homework. How lame is that? I'd take the dream where Ashley viciously murders me over a strand of boring, uneventful dreams.

When I'm awake it's not much better. All I can think about is school or the research I've been doing on RELEVANT magazine (which is going exceptionally well, mind you).

I want a cause; I've been praying for a cause.

I've got to be spending my time thinking about someone other than myself and about things more important than Radio Production homework. Honestly.

So far I've just been praying for RELEVANT. I don't mean "just" as in it isn't important - because it is. I'm starting to worry that I'll get so consumed in the magazine again that I'll fall back to where I was a year ago. Worthy or not, I can still make RELEVANT a god. So I need to be careful.

Without giving too much away, because I know this will pop up on RELEVANT's Google alerts, Tuesday I'm talking to former RELEVANT employee Dylan Peterson on the phone. I'm in kind of one of those celebrity-dazes. I mean, he was a pretty important part of the RELEVANT team. Well, he did make me fall in love with Andrew Bird and Anathallo.

Anyway, that's Tuesday. More research to come. More prayer to come.

I'm hoping, honestly, that I find something to devote my thoughtlife to - something God will appreciate. I've made this observation before, but it's really, really hard to pray when you have nothing to pray about. Dear God thank you for rain. Thank you for helping me wake up on time. For fresh brew. For ... class? For, ... okay, I'm out.

Thus: I need a cause.

And I need to spend less time on Facebook.

Lauren

between the river and the ravens I'm fed

It's really hard to write when nothing's going on.

I'm used to being fed up with something or obsessing over some new found philosophy I can write about for three blogs in a row. But not right now. School's out, I don't have a job, my reading's been light and uninspiring (ah, no offense, brilliant writers from whom I'm reading) and I'm not really enraged about anything. I usually am about this time. Last year I was going through my anti-politics kick, the year before that (and the year before that) I was frustrated by everyone's lack of faith. (Or something like that.)

I have spent most of my summer (so far) running errands, listening to music, reading, watching the news, watching TV, drinking coffee, redoing my Web site, inviting myself to people's houses, applying for jobs and eating cake. Not simultaneously, though that would be funny.

Anyway, my goals for this summer included writing every day (fail), reading three different magazines (fail, fail), submitting articles for publication (augh, fail) and reading nine books (I'm still doing okay). I want this summer to matter (as I say every year) but it can't get much liftoff without money to make it matter.

Here comes the punchline.

Yesterday my state tax return came - and not a moment too soon. I'm not broke - yet - but I will be soon if I don't get a job. Sure, I'd be fine if I didn't drive anywhere, ever. But if I stay at home all summer I might go crazy.

I've been selling textbooks, too, periodically, which has put a little bit of money into my account at the end of the month.

I smiled as I folded the state-issued check into my wallet because I knew that I had just enough to get by. I can still afford gas to get to my Wednesday night Bible study at Ruthanne's and I can afford to buy at least one or two presents for all the weddings and grad parties I have to go to (ahh!). But I don't have enough to waste on crap.

I have enough.

And it's beautiful.

But really hard, too.

Part of me is so frustrated that I haven't found a job yet, but the other part of me is excited by the discipline. I've never had a steady job. I work freelance or seasonal or the darn business shuts down. I'm learning to be flexible, to have to depend on God.

It's great, but it's so scary too.

Hopefully, hopefully I'll still get a job so that I can participate in more this summer.

But even if not, I will have to keep trusting.





Lauren

Between the river and ravens I'm fed Sweet deliverer, you lift up my head and lead me in your way

I love/hate Christmas

"I hate Christmas."

After my mom confessed that truth, I marveled--slack-jawed--at the bitterness of her comment. How can anyone hate Christmas? Who hates candy canes, egg nog, corporate Christmas parties, jingle bells, stocking stuffers, Hallmark original movies, wearing red all the time, tinsel, 24/7 holiday music on the radio, shopping and snow storms? I mean, those are pretty much the ingredients to happiness or something.

But then I started thinking ... maybe I hate Christmas too.

Trying to find people the right gift is harder than you would think. Especially with the standards of previous Christmases and birthdays. My best friend Ashley gave me an hour phone call with my favorite author for my seventeenth birthday, how am I supposed to match that? Give her an hour with the pope?

And the Christmas specials on TV? Please. All of them have the same theme: some old scrooge learns the true meaning of Christmas or some self-pitying 30-something finds true love. They're all the same.

And those family Christmas parties? Thanksgiving was a month ago. Really, how much has happened in that short period of time? I suppose any family gathering is fine if no one brings up politics. Again. (Knock on wood.)

See. I really hate Christmas. It's awful. It's so fake. And consumer-based. And dumb. And. And.



So I lied. I love Christmas. I mean, we have our problems, but I really love her deep down inside. I just don't think I love Christmas the way I loved her when I was a kid. I couldn't sleep a week before Christmas because I kept thinking about the my-size-barbie or giga pet I asked for.

And I just don't think I love Christmas the way I know I'm supposed to love her, for the ultimate gift: the Messiah. I'm trying to revel in the miracles, in the prophecy and everything else surrounding the birth in Bethlehem. But I can't. I just don't seem to get it yet.

The Israelites were doing okay without a Messiah. I mean, sure they turned from God every other king or so, but they got right back to it. They just needed a good leader. A David or a Josiah or a Nehemiah or something. God still took them back. He forgave them.

Fine.

Last Christmas I decided to not be so materialistic. I had just finished reading Blue Like Jazz by the one-and-only Don Miller, and I was convicted. I tried not to want so much, but at the same time I wanted to be grateful for what I received. Even that was hard. It was hard to believe I had enough. No more, no less.

Maybe you can label my relationship with Christmas as love-hate. I want to love her for the right reasons, but I love her for the wrong. I want to hate her for the right reasons, but I hate her for the wrong.

New plan: I am going to make the most out of this Christmas. I am going to learn how to love her for the Messiah and I am going to learn to hate her for her materialism. I am. Or at least, I'll start to.



My mom just apologized to me for her holiday blues. She said she had a little breakdown. She doesn't hate Christmas, just all the pressure of social gatherings and pleasing others. I understand. I feel the same way.



With love,

Ezekiel

the antiblog.

I used to be honest-gut honest-without fearing what people said or thought about me. When I was an underclassman in high school, I posted blogs about how much I loved God and how Satan sucked. (And I said it quite eloquently, I might add. Just kidding.)

And then I began writing makeshift poetry. As a sophomore I would collaborate songs and poems with my own words to form what I called a blog, but it was really just a collage. And as a junior and senior I began to write editorials, examining my faith versus the religion I'm taught at church and the life I tried to hide behind. I asked questions.

But now, I can't bring myself to do any of that. I am embittered, but I just argue; I am dry, but I don't cry to God. I am stale. I have forgotten how to blog.

I don't know what I spend so much time thinking about. I'm not pondering some deep philosophical question or imploring God on the great mysteries of life. I think about what people are doing. Their hairstyles. The shoes they wear.

Dear Lord, what's wrong with me? I have fallen into a routine of study, eat, sleep, watch movies (or Colbert) and sleep some more. Is this the life you have called me to?

What about teaching me to love? What about speaking your Word like Ezekiel? What happened? Who am I?



I wish I knew.

I wish I was who I thought I was a few months ago.

I wish I would die to self-will already.

I wish I could realize stuff with Amanda again.

I wish I knew what I was doing.



I'm going to keep trudging through. The beauty of a trough is that it's the lowest point--it can't dip down any farther. It's only up from here.

On to victory or underground.,

Ezek.

From Canton with Love.

I should mention that I'm not a spontaneous person. I am a planner. My reoccurring nightmare features me late for class or late for work because of unlikely situations that barricade my path.

But I am also an opportunist. This forms a sort of duality within me-one half involves risk taking adventures, while the other stays at home and make lists. So when this whole RELEVANT ordeal came about with less than a week to react, both sides of me got antsy, but for different reasons.

I am an official RELEVANT College Advocate, my goal being to spread the good news of RELEVANT around my campus. (I know that sounds like a self-proclaimed title, but there really is such a thing.) Because of this, I was given the opportunity to pass out magazines at the Art*Music*Justice Tour.

Luckily, most of the little details got sorted out. I chose the location I wanted to work at (Canton, OH), I had the money to go, a place to stay the night and a whole playlist of music to entertain me for 300 miles. (I should mention that I still didn't know exactly what I was doing once I got to the show until 5 minutes before I left my dorm room. I even had to call ol' Chad from RELEVANT to get that sorted.)

I left after chapel on Friday and planned to get to Canton by 5:30, and I planned to arrive at the concert fifteen minutes early and planned to get to Amanda's dorm by midnight. I have heard several times that God laughs at our plans or something to that degree. I don't know how much he laughs exactly, but he does like to screw with them a little bit.

The drive was fine. I have a nice internal map in my head. Sam used to tell me how I always knew exactly where stores were in the mall back home. I just knew that since the mallway was in a big circle, eventually you would come across what you were looking for. I think my sister's compliment went to my head. I am convinced I'm good with directions.

I found the building okay. The AMJ Tour website told me the address of the church, right across from the dirty McDonald's I tried to eat at. It was at a college campus, Malone University, a small private school like my WU.

It was past the time I was supposed to be there (6:30) but only by a minute or so. If I were to grade myself on punctuality, I'd give myself a 4 out of 5. So, I entered the back door of their PAC and wandered the hallways until I found an office.

I went into the office only slightly panicky (what's a few minutes, really?). I told them who I was and what I was there for.

They had no idea what I was talking about.

A concert?

RELE-who?

They logged onto the concert's site, pretty sure that I was in the wrong place. They found the true location of the AMJ concert: First Christian Church.

OOOOOH! They said in unison. Turns out FCC moved out of the building we were in a year ago. Noticing the panic rise a notch, a man in a suit jacket (I think his name was Rick) ushered me out the building, telling me over and over again how FCC was only down the road four miles. He gave me directions, wished me luck, and I got into my car. I re-graded myself in punctuality: 2.5 out of 5.

Rick told me to take a left at the T. I took a right. I turned around. I saw a dead end. I turned around. The numbers got smaller... they were supposed to get larger. I turned around. I panicked. Punctuality: 1 out of 5.

I somehow got to the church. I walked the classic I-only-have-10-minutes-to-get-to-class-on-the-other-side-of-campus walk (which I don't practice enough I noticed due to the shortness of my breath). I went to the ticket people and, once again, spilled my story. I don't think it made any sense.

Once the ticket-ers could understand my babbling, a woman named Claudia took me to find my booth.

Wait, where is it?

Claudia had no idea where this infamous table was, so she took me backstage to find a Mr. Troy Groves who, according to ol' Chad, knew what was going on. Troy was not around, so I was brought to a room with refreshments. Claudia told me to eat, giving me a water bottle and offering lasagna.

Another woman, Kristin, was in the room as well. I told her my story, still with a little adrenaline kick. It was like when King David (prior to his kingship) was acting like a madman at Gath so he wouldn't be recognized. It was a lot like that, except that I wasn't acting. I was a little frantic and a little foolish (I did just drive 5 hours to work at a booth that didn't exist) . . . but suddenly my Gath-moment halted when Derek Webb entered the room.

This was the guy that played on the podcast a few years ago, who was on the Mar.-April 2006 issue of RELEVANT magazine. He's the guy quoted in one of my favorite books, Jesus for President. I had this guy's CD! (Or at least I did until I gave it to Goodwill.)

And boy, he was a lot shorter than I had imagined.

Then walks in Sandra McCracken. Then Sarah Groves.

Suddenly my driving around confused for a half hour was worth it. I was here. I was among very incredible musicians--I felt renewed.

Soon after that, Claudia talked to Troy about the magazines and he said they'd get them out. . . eventually. (How ominous.)



So I bet by this point you must think I am a little crazy. Perhaps a little Gath-crazy (as I now choose to call it). So... what am I doing here?

See, this very dilemma led me to ask myself that age-old question: If RELEVANT asked me to jump off a bridge, would I do it? I am a poor, jobless college student who spent five hours driving through Ohio, got lost in downtown Canton, trailed a just-as-confused FCC member, and sat awkwardly at a concert alone. . . .

Yes, the answer is yes.

Meanwhile, Claudia had me watch the first half of the concert since the table wasn't set up. She gave me her backstage pass and permitted me to eat whatever I wanted. Really, I just wanted to stay in the back room until Brandon Heath came by. Then I would propose marriage to him. Okay, not really.

The concert was amazing. I would go into detail, but you can read a pretty thorough review of it at (SHAMELESS PLUG!) RELEVANTMagazine.com. But it was amazing. I haven't felt so close to God since I've been at IWU. I think that is the problem with a Christian school. It's hard to find the sacredness and mystery of God when you have to go to chapel three times a week. (I'll blog about THAT later.)

Intermission. I found Claudia once again and we went to look for my table. Still not there. We went back stage again, walking through a dark corridor that led to the refreshments table.

Footsteps behind us.

Brandon Heath. Claudia introduced herself as the event coordinator (and a very helpful magazine-hunter if I do say so myself) and told him my problem. Oh, I know where the RELEVANTs are.

Brandon Heath saves the day!

He set them out at his merch table and I did my duties of taking out every single subscription card and stacked them in a neat pile.

Back to the concert.

Once it was over I finally got to work. And I'll say, RELEVANTs go like hotcakes. Subscription cards do not, but that's not my fault. The economy sucks, that's why only a few people took them. So why not just blame Bush. (And my readership just got cut in half.)

Brandon was signing autographs right next to me. Now, I don't have time to go into this, really, but I have to say that Brandon Heath is the nicest musician I have ever met. Usually when people come up to tell them about a song they've written, the musician just says coooool and move on. Not Brandon. I think he's co-writing a song with a thirtysomething guy from FCC. Not to mention the guy who liked Brandon's watch. Brandon took it off his wrist and gave it to him.

I reconsidered that marriage proposal.

We packed up, I said my goodbyes (and got a picture with Brandon). Claudia and a few women from the church insisted that I didn't drive two-and-a-half miles to Ada to stay with Amanda; they had an extra hotel room, paid for and everything.

I sat in that Holiday Inn, writing the beginnings of this blog. My mind was reeling with excitement, but my heart was so low and lonely. Why did the day progress like it had? I got my answer on the way to Ada, while listening to a little Jon Foreman. (And my roommates roll their eyes. . . .)



THE LESSON:

If you made it this far in the blog, I commend you. I'm pushing 1500 words now, about five pages double-spaced if this were a paper. Stay with me. I actually learned something this weekend.

God has been teaching me about loving people, about finding what Shane Claiborne calls their "sacred humanity," looking beyond the Lifeboat, and realizing that we are ALL created in God's image. Black. White. Pretty. Fat. Short. Lazy. Whatever.

God had told me this on the way to my sister's apartment a few months ago while I listened to a new song by a Mr. Brandon Heath: Give Me Your Eyes. God wants me to stop being so selfish and obsessed with comparing myself to others so that I can see people the way He sees them. I finally saw the connection.

I got lost in Canton for a reason.

If I knew where I was going and had arrived on time for the concert, I would not have been so reliant on people. The advisors at Malone University took time out of their schedule to help me, a kid who didn't even attend their school. They didn't have to do that.

And Claudia, God bless her. I followed her around and asked so much of the other members of First Christian Church. I owe them. It reminds me of Jesus' command to give even just a cup of cool water to a little one who's thirsty. They gave me so much more: a whole water bottle full, a hotel room, a tee shirt and most of all mercy.

These people showed me mercy. They didn't know who I was.

But they cared.

I want to be like them.

God reminded me that I don't have to be in Africa serving the poor to love people. I can do it here. I can do it by asking my friends how they are doing, or offering help when a problem arises. I know I'm being vague, but I don't know all that God has in store for me. But I am willing. I want to be a servant. I want to learn to love.



Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity
Give me your arms for the broken hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the once forgotten



Ezekiel

Everything, everything.

A light and fluffy blog because I don't feel like thinking.

It's been a long day. There is a reason why most people avoid 7:50 classes. I understand that every morning when I hobble out of bed and nearly fall into the shower, turn on my Jon Foreman music, and doze off on the plexiglass shower door. Trust me, I regret my class schedule every day.

But, before I get too far off on a tangant, I wanted to share with you all my long-term goal as a college student. A mission statement, if you will. (Side note: the concept is there, but the rhetoric hasn't been perfected.)

I want my college experience--my going-to-class, homework-ing, studying, note-taking--to be my spiritual act of worship.

This is what I am doing, and whatever I do should be for God's glory. Thus, I am going to worship God via my devotion to my studies.

Seem a little twisted? It's not, really. God wants me to live to my full potential (my favorite NLT verse: "I want to be all that Jesus Christ saved me for and wants me to be"). Right now, I am a student. All that I can be right now is a follower of Christ and a student. ("Student" is pretty broad, really. But let's not go there. I'm tired, remember?)

So there.

What does that look like? It looks like me studying for my COM115 class, no matter how much I don't want to. It means reading the goshawful OTH book and taking notes on it. (Bleh.)

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'll end with a verse from The Message. (Sorry, Paul.)

"So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him." Romans 12:1

First things first

First thing's first.

Indiana Wesleyan's "Verse of the Year" is Matthew 6:33: "Seek first His Kingdom and His Righteousness and all these things will be given to you."

On our first chapel, Umfundisi talked about how we need to get our priorities straight. What's consuming our time? Are we worrying about who's on Facebook instead of schoolwork? Are we watching volleyball games out the window instead of reading our Bibles? (Heh. Heh.)

I decided to commit myself to this, signing a piece of paper and everything.

Then Wednesday night happened.

I am having a blast at college, really, I am. But I had a rough night on Wednesday. I was writing my first paper (yes, it was loads of fun) and out of nowhere my "c" key just started typing. I had random c's all over my letter to Shane Claiborne. (And yes, that was my assignment.)

It was 11:20 at night. I had class at 7:50am.

So I took the key off.

In hindsight, not the best idea. I have taken keys off before--I had a sticky m a while back--but usually I get the suckers back on. This stupid c would not go back on.

I spent a half hour trying to get the thing back on. I failed.

The next day I went to IT. Right when it closed.

The c's kept appearing. The key was still off.

And God said to Lauren, "First things first."

I let things escalade too much. I got the wrong book for a class, I need more school supplies, my ice tray can't fit in my freezer, this chinese food is too salty!, c's fall off... and I make a big deal out of them all. Oh please. Get over it, girl.

This is my first semester of college. My goal is to not be overwhelmed with stress, to be on top of my homework so I never have to pull all-nighters or cram for tests.

For those of you in school or have full-time jobs, I challenge you to do the same. Don't let the little things get you down. "Don't sweat the small stuff," as they say. When you start to feel overwhelmed, talk to God. He values rest. He created a whole day for it, actually.

Forget about all the c-keys in your life, keeping you up late worrying. It's not worth it. Trust God.

First things first.

My Summer as a Striped-Collar Worker, Pt. 2: Incentives

We all respond to incentives, said Stephen Levitt in Freakonomics. I guess that's so.

DAY 2: BLUE-COLLAR

Before people respond to incentives they weigh the benefits against the costs. With my job at BF Goodrich, I had to do the same. Except, my dad made me make my decision before I really thought it through. Hmm... was this a mistake?

* The Costs *

Both days of orientation contained a wild deluge of safety dos and don'ts. It reminded me of that episode of The Office when the guys upstairs go to the warehouse to learn about all the rules about not touching this and that. It was very similar, except I watched tons (and tons and tons) of videos.

They should've just made a 10 Commandments of rules and I it would've saved 'em some time. Observe.

1. DO NOT touch anything hot.

2. DO NOT stick your hand inside a machine if it's running.

3. DO NOT run in front of a forklift

4. DO NOT hit someone with a forklift

5. DO NOT sleep/gamble/drink/horseplay on the job

6. DO wear steel-toed shoes ALWAYS

7. DO wear ear-plugs ALWAYS

8. 9. 10. (You get the picture)



* The Benefits *

This pretty much has everything to do with money.

I will be working between 42-48 hours a week, which means at least two hours will be paid overtime (time and a half).

Since the hours suck, they have special rewards known as "shift premiums" that add on addition cents per hour. So even working the day shift you make an extra $10 a day. Night shifters like me will earn about $20 more.

Holidays are paid as time and a half, even if you aren't scheduled to work (you get at least 8 hours pay).

If your overtime is a holiday you get double time.

Oh, and the rate isn't $10.00 and hour, it's $13.068.

[That's a little more than IP.]

Not to mention the fact that I get to drive a "tugger" for 12 hours a day--how fun! And I get 10 minute breaks every two hours, and a half-hour break after 6... but as my trainer said, stock poolers (like myself) get extra long breaks if they're ahead of schedule.

And I get a cool swipey tag. And a water bottle. And a locker, all to myself!



** ** **

Notice my justification. I like to tell myself the job is going to be way more exciting that it actually is. I guess once I get my first paycheck of $416 (before taxes) I'll feel a little bit better about myself.



DAY 2: WHITE-COLLAR

So, no news from Nea Matia. I'm a little concerned because Beverley likes staying in touch like none other. But, I am ahead of the game. I got one of next week's assignment done and asked for the information concerning the other one. Maybe these next two days I can rest before work on Friday night. (Gotta love the swing shift).

Oh yeah, back to incentives.

** The Costs **

Carpel Tunnel: I think I'm getting it in my right wrist. I have one of those pads on my laptop rather than a mouse so I constantly use my middle finger to move the cursor around. It's starting to hurt really bad.

Working as a Freelancer is tough if you like order and stability. Honestly, I'm glad that my boss Beverley is very organized and has certain deadlines for me or I'd be all over the place. It's hard to stay focused if you have no direction.

The money isn't the greatest either. I mean, you make a website for a nice rate maybe, but updates are typically monthly at best. So you get a nice lump sum that'll last you till your next trip to Starbucks.



** The Benefits **

I can wake up whenever I like, wear whatever I want, eat while I'm working, take as many breaks as I like, peruse facebook when I'm bored... and have fun.

Because honestly, it's fun making websites and flyers for people.

I do occasionally have to go into Beverley's office to pick something up and whatnot. Then I have to look nice, but it's downtown and I LOVE going downtown. Last time I went into work I got a hotdog from Coney Island first. MMmm, totally worth it.

And then there's that little thing I like to call NETWORKING. Working for a private business like Nea Matia will get me strong references, making me just another step closer to the RELE-world.

overwhelmed

Today was the first day I've felt overwhelmed this school year. Luckily, though I had about 5 writing assignments this week, I got all my English done BEFORE tomorrow's due date. But as for newspaper... I'm sorry but it's really hard to write about sushi!

And so now, though I have econ to read, I'm going to just rest. Rest and bask in the peace that comes from God. <3

Even more, I'm going to bask and listen to Dustin Kensrue while I take a nice long bubble bath. [aaahhh...] And then when all of that is finished and I have revised my article one more time (or add a bunch of words b/c its still a good 200 words short!) I will do my econ... and pray that I understand it. [ha, what an awful quiz today, am I right?]

Lauren

I'd put all my money on you...

And so this week continues.

For once, only the second time this year, I've been able to go to the library in study hall. Like I said, only ONCE this year because of those sophomores and juniors who go just to talk. (Not that I wasn't one of them last year). But a girl could use a computer break every once and a while. [Like right now.]

I have so much due Friday but no incentive to work. AP Essay, OPTIC write-up, Newspaper article about sushi... oh where does it end? Sure, that's just about all my homework for this week (even now in study hall I have so very little to do) but I have absolutely no desire to do any of it. I'm sick of writing (rambling's way more fun!)

I kind of wish I had a good (not previously read) book to read. I'm rereading Brave New World and The Art of Rejection by Hayley DiMarco but there's not much keeping my attention. Bleh. Or I could get This Present Darkness from the library, again, the third time for me. The book just makes me wish I could writer better than I currently do, yet I hate the unnecessary details. Okay, so it's a really dirty jailhouse--I get the picture, Frank!

As for interning... I hope I do something exciting today. Or, to my preference, Tom won't have anything for me to do so I can go on Facebook the whole time.

I suppose I really should start working on some homework. At least start researching sushi. Okay what do I already know... raw fish, Japanese, smelly, cold, uhhh... 'guess that's it. I better start researching.

Until next time. [Wow, what an overused outro]

Lauren.