Ok, I'll admit it. I'm just a little too giddy over having a cheese stick in my lunch today. I haven't had a cheese stick in ages, and I must say, it spruces up the pb&j menu considerably. Takes me back to first grade. Only, in first grade I didn't have cheese sticks, either, I don't think.
Usually I had peanut butter crackers for snack, the packaged kind very conducive to mutilation. My preferred method of consumption was scraping the peanut butter off, rolling it in a gummy, fingerprinty ball, and eating it bite by luscious little bite. I guess you could say that I have a history with peanut butter. Right now I'm just about sick of it.
My classmate, Jordan, is sitting at the next computer Facebook farming as we await the looming computer test. The test shouldn't be hard because I know how to do the work, but the multiple choice questions are sneaky and obscure and I somehow managed to get a rather unsatisfactory grade on what I assumed would be the easiest test. Oh well. I'll take that as a lesson. I see that farming in some form is making a comeback in rural America. I'm afraid I won't be joining, unless it's to plant some actual (not virtual) eggplants. But don't count on that either...
Oh, someday I will blog again...
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Party Punch
Oops, you spilled your joy on me
Like party punch
Right down my formal front
And I almost started dancing
With the smell of that strawberry wine.
Friends, let's raise a glass
To the Lover of Our Souls!
I'm not one for getting drunk,
But I'll get drunk on this.
I'm not the best at dancing
But I'll dance all night for this.
I hope it spills all over town
I hope it runs into the rivers
I hope it swallows up the oceans
I hope we drown.
Like party punch
Right down my formal front
And I almost started dancing
With the smell of that strawberry wine.
Friends, let's raise a glass
To the Lover of Our Souls!
I'm not one for getting drunk,
But I'll get drunk on this.
I'm not the best at dancing
But I'll dance all night for this.
I hope it spills all over town
I hope it runs into the rivers
I hope it swallows up the oceans
I hope we drown.
Monday, March 8, 2010
A Rainy Day Curry Craving
Today was not the day to wear a spring skirt, but I missed the memo and did it anyway. Actually, I did get the memo, and ignored it. Rain, temperatures in the 50's, and I said, no, surely the sun will come out. So I wore a skirt and short sleeve while everyone else was bundled up in hoodies. The sun must not have been impressed, because it didn't come out, and I was so chilled that I got Connor to drive me over to the BA building for computer class in the afternoon instead of walking there like I normally do.
Afterwards, he came and got me and we listened to Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack on the way home. I remembered all over again how much I love that movie and tried to think of a good excuse to watch it a fifth time and tried to decide whether or not I would be burned out on it. Probably not.
Both of us were about to eat the seat upholstery, we were so hungry. I usually make sandwiches for school, and I did today, but I left Connor's. So after sharing mine and having a full day of classes, we were still famished. The music made Connor want curry, more specifically, Li'l Thai House curry, and in a rare spontaneous moment I said we should go and split some. He looked at me like I'd proposed a plan for a Better Mouse Trap (if, hypothetically, he had been a professional exterminator...never mind.) and veered onto South street.
Since we failed to catch the Green Street underpass, we ended up behind a stripey blinking barrier waiting for a 40 mile long train to go by. We were there a long time. Connor turned off the car and we sat watching it. The cars were red and orange and navy, which struck me as a nice color combination on a rainy gray day with the wind blowing like it was. They all appeared to have been brought from China and I wondered how much of our stuff comes from there? A lot, I know, but the whole trainload?
We drove up to the little wedge of a building that is Li'l Thai House and found it closed. Pho's was the next option because by that time we really wanted some non-buffet Asian food. And I must admit, Pho's has the best French-pressed coffee I've ever tasted. It's all in the condensed milk. There we met Kate and Stan and a friend of theirs and Kate's mom, and began to visit with them.
It was very satisfying eating something with chopsticks. I'm glad we did split a plate, because I felt obligated to leave room for the spaghetti my sainted mother had made for supper.
We drove home with the heat full blast on my chilled toes (flip flops to go with the skirt, naturally) and I told Connor I thought I had the skirt thing out of my system for a while. Think I'll don a hoodie for the next month. Of course, this is East Texas weather we're talking about. I'd better not make rash promises.
And now I'd better stop writing because I'm writing rather recklessly and don't feel like using commas which can get you into trouble sometimes with grammar police which people think I am until they really get to know me because I really don't care much about some aspects of grammar I just like to ramble...
Ok. I do care some. I mean, I'm a little embarrassed at that run on. But not enough to take it out. Ok, as I said, I'd better stop. Now.
Afterwards, he came and got me and we listened to Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack on the way home. I remembered all over again how much I love that movie and tried to think of a good excuse to watch it a fifth time and tried to decide whether or not I would be burned out on it. Probably not.
Both of us were about to eat the seat upholstery, we were so hungry. I usually make sandwiches for school, and I did today, but I left Connor's. So after sharing mine and having a full day of classes, we were still famished. The music made Connor want curry, more specifically, Li'l Thai House curry, and in a rare spontaneous moment I said we should go and split some. He looked at me like I'd proposed a plan for a Better Mouse Trap (if, hypothetically, he had been a professional exterminator...never mind.) and veered onto South street.
Since we failed to catch the Green Street underpass, we ended up behind a stripey blinking barrier waiting for a 40 mile long train to go by. We were there a long time. Connor turned off the car and we sat watching it. The cars were red and orange and navy, which struck me as a nice color combination on a rainy gray day with the wind blowing like it was. They all appeared to have been brought from China and I wondered how much of our stuff comes from there? A lot, I know, but the whole trainload?
We drove up to the little wedge of a building that is Li'l Thai House and found it closed. Pho's was the next option because by that time we really wanted some non-buffet Asian food. And I must admit, Pho's has the best French-pressed coffee I've ever tasted. It's all in the condensed milk. There we met Kate and Stan and a friend of theirs and Kate's mom, and began to visit with them.
It was very satisfying eating something with chopsticks. I'm glad we did split a plate, because I felt obligated to leave room for the spaghetti my sainted mother had made for supper.
We drove home with the heat full blast on my chilled toes (flip flops to go with the skirt, naturally) and I told Connor I thought I had the skirt thing out of my system for a while. Think I'll don a hoodie for the next month. Of course, this is East Texas weather we're talking about. I'd better not make rash promises.
And now I'd better stop writing because I'm writing rather recklessly and don't feel like using commas which can get you into trouble sometimes with grammar police which people think I am until they really get to know me because I really don't care much about some aspects of grammar I just like to ramble...
Ok. I do care some. I mean, I'm a little embarrassed at that run on. But not enough to take it out. Ok, as I said, I'd better stop. Now.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Trailers With No Tail Lights
This morning I woke up and, while waiting for the windshield to de-ice so I could go home from babysitting, I thought, what, is this March??? March is acting like January. Hard frost? Ice? Where is the White Witch? More importantly, where is Aslan?
I guess Aslan, bless him, must have heard me, because by the time I stepped out of the car for my 9:00 class at Kilgore two hours later, the day had changed from frosty January to sweet, clear March with sun and an attempt at green. I love spring. I love it, I love it, I love it. Every fall my favorite season is fall and every spring my favorite season is spring. Not sure how that happens.
Today I was thinking about how much people matter. There's such a fine line between people mattering and people mattering too much.
Sometimes being in public feels like driving behind a trailer that has no tail lights. You're constantly forced to guess when to stop and start. It would be easier not to care what other people do and keep rolling along on your own, but that will most likely result in a wreck.
It's stressful to constantly be trying to read what others are thinking. It's stressful making judgments of yourself and for yourself based on unreliable cues from other people.
Grades worry me too. They feel like a very direct reward or punishment. Do good work, get a doggy treat. Do bad work, you get beat with a stick. Some instructors seem to be on the students' side, while others strike terror in the hearts.
But last week, I thought this out a lot, and I wondered, which would I rather have? A high approval rating with man that rises and falls, or a high approval rating with God that lasts forever? When I have twenty priorities, who is going to dictate what comes first? People, who want me to be and do ten worthy things at once, or God, who knows I am made of dust, and only expects me to obey the next step?
If people really matter, sometimes they take precedence over the most pressing deadlines. As in the case of one of my classmates, who skipped a day of classes to make time for a friend's birthday. Or like last night, when I opted out of unfinished homework to watch Roman Holiday and eat frozen pizza with Kaylee. Not that that was a chore...not that my brains were functioning at a high enough percentage to produce anything worthwhile...but I made a decision with the imagined gun of academic pressure to my head, and I was proud of myself for it.
So Kaylee and I watched Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck fall in love, and made sad faces as he walked down the loooong palace hall *sniff*, and I tried to get a piece of pizza with a maximum number of pepperonis. I could have done an equation for that but decided against it.
The human body is limited. It needs rest. It needs replenishment. I always had the idea that college students are superhuman because they can go nights without sleep and live on coffee. But we aren't! More importantly, the soul needs rest. I want to pursue my work with diligence, but sometimes a quick conversation with Mom over breakfast does more for my well being than cramming the undone worksheet. So I'm tuning my ears to the quiet voice of God's Spirit guiding me in the pattern of work and rest, work and rest.
He's directing traffic for me, and when my eyes are on Him, my inside ears tuned in, I don't care if the trailer in front of me has gimpy tail lights.
I guess Aslan, bless him, must have heard me, because by the time I stepped out of the car for my 9:00 class at Kilgore two hours later, the day had changed from frosty January to sweet, clear March with sun and an attempt at green. I love spring. I love it, I love it, I love it. Every fall my favorite season is fall and every spring my favorite season is spring. Not sure how that happens.
Today I was thinking about how much people matter. There's such a fine line between people mattering and people mattering too much.
Sometimes being in public feels like driving behind a trailer that has no tail lights. You're constantly forced to guess when to stop and start. It would be easier not to care what other people do and keep rolling along on your own, but that will most likely result in a wreck.
It's stressful to constantly be trying to read what others are thinking. It's stressful making judgments of yourself and for yourself based on unreliable cues from other people.
Grades worry me too. They feel like a very direct reward or punishment. Do good work, get a doggy treat. Do bad work, you get beat with a stick. Some instructors seem to be on the students' side, while others strike terror in the hearts.
But last week, I thought this out a lot, and I wondered, which would I rather have? A high approval rating with man that rises and falls, or a high approval rating with God that lasts forever? When I have twenty priorities, who is going to dictate what comes first? People, who want me to be and do ten worthy things at once, or God, who knows I am made of dust, and only expects me to obey the next step?
If people really matter, sometimes they take precedence over the most pressing deadlines. As in the case of one of my classmates, who skipped a day of classes to make time for a friend's birthday. Or like last night, when I opted out of unfinished homework to watch Roman Holiday and eat frozen pizza with Kaylee. Not that that was a chore...not that my brains were functioning at a high enough percentage to produce anything worthwhile...but I made a decision with the imagined gun of academic pressure to my head, and I was proud of myself for it.
So Kaylee and I watched Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck fall in love, and made sad faces as he walked down the loooong palace hall *sniff*, and I tried to get a piece of pizza with a maximum number of pepperonis. I could have done an equation for that but decided against it.
The human body is limited. It needs rest. It needs replenishment. I always had the idea that college students are superhuman because they can go nights without sleep and live on coffee. But we aren't! More importantly, the soul needs rest. I want to pursue my work with diligence, but sometimes a quick conversation with Mom over breakfast does more for my well being than cramming the undone worksheet. So I'm tuning my ears to the quiet voice of God's Spirit guiding me in the pattern of work and rest, work and rest.
He's directing traffic for me, and when my eyes are on Him, my inside ears tuned in, I don't care if the trailer in front of me has gimpy tail lights.
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