If someone besides myself reads this I apologize in advance and guarantee you that this particular entry will not be half as interesting as what you may discover if you scroll down past all things written after my journey to Africa. However, if you want to hear about my recently acquired suburban syndrome read on. If you wanna hear about my attempt at missionaryism and saving the God-forsaken earth one Donald Miller theory on faith at a time, pass this one up.
As clever as I've grown to become over the last several years in my writing career... no that's the wrong word... my writing pursuit- much better- I've realized that I have a lot of words but little to actually say. I'm still giddy as a school girl that I don't have to look at the keyboard as I type. But sometimes when I notice that I'm blindly nickering (yeah it's a word, google magic that stuff) away at the keys I get a nervous excitement that causes me to look down and throw myself completely off. I digress.
I should probably organize my thoughts before this turns into a 10 page email about a crush from Columbus to a kindergarten buddy.
In the following journal entry which I wouldn't wish upon anyone besides myself to suffer through, I would like to discuss the following things.
1. My wonderful Christmas break and the pursuit of reading and journaling:
2. My battle with going to church and the evolution of Radiohead.
3. My hopes and dreams in school, romance and other frivolities of being a twenty something.
4. And finally, why the film Fight Club is a brilliant and excellent message of social consciousness.
In all honesty I just want to talk about Fight Club (God bless HBO) and crushes on boys (not to be confused with actual men, and that sounds way more creepy when I read it back...) However, I fear you may recognize the digression from decent human being to sex and the city junkie/self addict/private school victim so I will include hopes dreams and thoughts on the house of the Lord.
It's late and I have a blind date with an 11 am service in the morning so I'll probably just get to numbers 1 and 3.
Christmas break has been an excellent time for me to attempt a couple C.S. Lewis books, spend money I don't really have, mindlessly bicker with my mom, catch up on my on-demand HBO experiences, journal daily, memorize Mutemath lyrics,wear my brothers clothes, get groceries on my dad's tab, and take my Granny to the bank. Really, we should all do this more often. I've had more fun briskly walking in the morning frost around the block and running into teachers from the days of my childhood that I've long since tried to repress. The Bay Area sunsets have been eyegasmic.
Honestly, I don't see these kind of colors anywhere but here. Not even on the San Diegan shores... Sure, I'm probably looking through some San Francisco pollution but the fung schway is priceless. I couldn't possibly describe in words (yet I will in light of this literary experience) the way the back drop of God's great hand sets with the bay bridge and all the little white and yellow staggering lights from tall buildings next to the murky-yet sparkly- gray waters. Even the break lights of traffic make this whole picture a brilliant and breath taking masterpiece. I love where I live and I wish I could share it with everyone I know. Not at the same time though, we kinda have a small house. It's more like a cottage. But it's Richmond baby. The bay. I couldn't ask for more. Why is Natalie calling at 1:30 in the morning?
Disclaimer: I realize it's only been a week since I've seen you all. I don't miss you either. I have a great, honest and hilarious relationship with my mother. There's no such thing as an eyegasm. My granny doesn't rob banks or anything, she just hasn't figured on the kiosk atm. I use trendy terms out of context for the sake of the flow and I had an incredible childhood.
I liked that whole xmas vacation bit so much that I posted it as a note on the Facebook and tagged all my witty friends. :)Now for Number 3. My hopes and dreams. Sigh. This will take all night... I have so many hopes and so many crazy dreams abour babies and India and God and the purple sunsets... and kissing boys in my dead grandmas house... running from people in my live grandmas house... my childhood house, monuments in India... so really we don't have the time for this today now do we?
Ok, here's one hope since I'm already nickering away at this keyboard. I hope that my life after this May 2008 is as incredible and fun and full of friends, laughter, books, ministry, music and clever journal entries as this last and second year in actual college has been thus far. My sentences are way too long but like I said before, I have so many words, but what am I really saying?
I don't think that what I have to say is terribly important to anyone other than myself, and the Lord, and maybe my mom or something, but I do think there's a sort of genius in sharing your humanity, your douchebagness in faith and fumbling with others. It's kind of an art. I tell my life story and then we all can feel better about our late night Nickolodeon indulgences.
Wisdom is something I can see, taste and smell, and I even ask for it daily. It comes in small doses for me. It's like a box of chocolates. No joke. No pun. If God was like the Willi Wonka of wisdom, by no means am I Charlie. I may be the chunky blue berry girl with the gum... anyhow, He sends me peices of chocolate. This is special because it's God and all but it's only one little truffle. Can I walk into the factory and swim in His river of chocolate wisdom? Take home boxes of milky bars on preorder? I'm sure I can... but do I? No... I stay up late watching Fight Club and redefining the journal entry via blog. So here's to wisdom.
One snippet of wisdom I've recently received from C.S. Lewis, an old homie, "A tyrannous and glutenous demand for affection can be a horrible thing." That's a little somethin' I read in The Four Loves. He's clever and deep and perpetuates a sort of thoughtfulness about my faith that an old fashioned revival might or a really good Jars of Clay concert. He's not just saying that affection in a physical sense can be overdone. Of course it can, but affection is a lot of things. Many of which I still don't understand. This is definitely a "read it twice" kind of deal. But who has time for formalities? (I should really... reading his books is a sort of swim in the chocolate river in God Wonkas factory)
Affection from what I understand it to be... in the world... not just in Lewis Land... btw... is manifested through all sorts of vessels in word, gifts, time, on top of physical attention. It hit home because I see these needs for affection in myself- which is human and normal, we need each other to survive and be sane and have a healthy psyche etcetera- but I am coming to understand the very appropriateness in our need for the affectionate love is in the motives behind it, and the demand for it... quantity, quality... things of the sort. I'm still chewing on the idea. There's some chocolate for the day friends. And now... to the bed.
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