3/4/16
-----
Sometimes when you've reached the bottom, all you can do is look up through the blue. You can wonder at this new perspective, how your view has changed, how you have changed since settling here on the sand. You can think of the work it will take to get back up to where there's air. You can be just a little afraid, a little wary, that you might run out of the air you have.
But you are there and you have to have all synapses firing and focus given to the tasks at hand amid the wonder and the shifting and the work and the fear.
And then you (albeit slowly) rise.
___
Showing posts with label missing Ebeye. Show all posts
Showing posts with label missing Ebeye. Show all posts
Friday, March 4, 2016
Thursday, March 20, 2014
War of The Worlds
3/20/14
Some time between fourth grade (when I started listening to the hometown's AM station during a snowstorm that canceled school for a week and let me clean my room thoroughly for the first time and read Robin Hood) and sixth or seventh grade, the local FM station played Orson Welles' "The War of the Worlds" radio play on Halloween.
Like, it was long enough ago that I taped it with a blank cassette tape in my clock radio that also had a cassette player. (I was so excited that I could set it to start playing when my alarm went off; I used the first track on my Lion King soundtrack cassette tape. It and my Space Jam tape were my first tapes.)
Anyway, I turned off the lights and wrapped myself in a blanket and listened to the radio play. After the intermission, the play starts out with the narrator asking if anyone's there. There's no background noise, no music, nothing that seems like the flurry of activity from the news reports prior to the intermission (during the active invasion). In fact, the narrator is utterly alone. I remembered wondering how being alone like that would feel, whether or not the narrator was actually alone (he wasn't; he meets some other man, who gets all suspicious and runs away).
I know how that feels now.
Some time between fourth grade (when I started listening to the hometown's AM station during a snowstorm that canceled school for a week and let me clean my room thoroughly for the first time and read Robin Hood) and sixth or seventh grade, the local FM station played Orson Welles' "The War of the Worlds" radio play on Halloween.
Like, it was long enough ago that I taped it with a blank cassette tape in my clock radio that also had a cassette player. (I was so excited that I could set it to start playing when my alarm went off; I used the first track on my Lion King soundtrack cassette tape. It and my Space Jam tape were my first tapes.)
Anyway, I turned off the lights and wrapped myself in a blanket and listened to the radio play. After the intermission, the play starts out with the narrator asking if anyone's there. There's no background noise, no music, nothing that seems like the flurry of activity from the news reports prior to the intermission (during the active invasion). In fact, the narrator is utterly alone. I remembered wondering how being alone like that would feel, whether or not the narrator was actually alone (he wasn't; he meets some other man, who gets all suspicious and runs away).
I know how that feels now.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
2013
12-31-13
I know many people do New Year's Resolutions, and I know I have things I want to improve or maintain in my life, but that's not really what I'm thinking about. I've been thinking about where I've been on past New Year's and where I've been this year.
When I was little, we'd each get to pick out a movie to watch and cuddle in our sleeping bags on the living room floor. We'd watch in the order of youngest to adult, and I remember being excited when I finally made it to midnight without falling asleep now. (Now it's no big thing, but then it was.)
When 2006 turned into 2007, I was in India. I think it was a Thursday night. I had preached a sermon on the 2300-day prophecy earlier that evening, ate New Year's cake in the lobby of the hotel, and fell asleep listening to the very loud fireworks going off up and down the street.
When 2008 turned into 2009, I was on Ebeye. I think it was a Saturday night. I was in the principal's apartment with Ryan and Emily, playing Starcraft and then stuffing couch cushions back into their covers. The covers had just come out of our dryer.
When 2010 turned into 2011, I was at Timber Ridge Camp for staff retreat. It was a Friday night, and so we welcomed the Sabbath and the new year with a footwashing and a communion service. It was also the evening that Charlie and Trish told me about Greg wanting me to go work at Wakonda.
Tonight, I'm in my solitary apartment in Michigan. Yeah, my landlord lives downstairs, but I think he's out with his brother and sister-in-law. I had Chism family pizza and some ice cream, I watched some classic Doctor Who (I finished the 1st Doctor story, The Aztecs) and I read and I'm now writing this blog before doing more watching and reading and etc. I came back early because of the grown-up things I'm doing later this week and because of the weather, and so I'm glad I don't have to drive through the snow, but I'm also a little melancholy because I'm not with my family. If I had been, I still would have been sleeping on the floor. :)
Anyway, I do pray that I grow and change for the better in 2014. Here's to the past and here's to the future.
I know many people do New Year's Resolutions, and I know I have things I want to improve or maintain in my life, but that's not really what I'm thinking about. I've been thinking about where I've been on past New Year's and where I've been this year.
When I was little, we'd each get to pick out a movie to watch and cuddle in our sleeping bags on the living room floor. We'd watch in the order of youngest to adult, and I remember being excited when I finally made it to midnight without falling asleep now. (Now it's no big thing, but then it was.)
When 2006 turned into 2007, I was in India. I think it was a Thursday night. I had preached a sermon on the 2300-day prophecy earlier that evening, ate New Year's cake in the lobby of the hotel, and fell asleep listening to the very loud fireworks going off up and down the street.
When 2008 turned into 2009, I was on Ebeye. I think it was a Saturday night. I was in the principal's apartment with Ryan and Emily, playing Starcraft and then stuffing couch cushions back into their covers. The covers had just come out of our dryer.
When 2010 turned into 2011, I was at Timber Ridge Camp for staff retreat. It was a Friday night, and so we welcomed the Sabbath and the new year with a footwashing and a communion service. It was also the evening that Charlie and Trish told me about Greg wanting me to go work at Wakonda.
Tonight, I'm in my solitary apartment in Michigan. Yeah, my landlord lives downstairs, but I think he's out with his brother and sister-in-law. I had Chism family pizza and some ice cream, I watched some classic Doctor Who (I finished the 1st Doctor story, The Aztecs) and I read and I'm now writing this blog before doing more watching and reading and etc. I came back early because of the grown-up things I'm doing later this week and because of the weather, and so I'm glad I don't have to drive through the snow, but I'm also a little melancholy because I'm not with my family. If I had been, I still would have been sleeping on the floor. :)
Anyway, I do pray that I grow and change for the better in 2014. Here's to the past and here's to the future.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Getting Caught Up
9/26/13
Wow, it's almost October. Which, here in Michigan, is going to end up being Octobrrrr. The leaves are already changing and I think that's thrown me off a bit because I'm still mentally in Tennessee, when it comes to seasons at least.
My favorite class so far is my programming class. I am learning how to code in Python.
Today for a class project (for a different class), I got to see the Papyrology Collection, which includes wooden mummy tags, various ostraka--and the oldest manuscript of a good portion of Paul's letters. I saw part of the book of Romans--11:36 to about 12:something--written in Greek on papyrus. It was ridiculously awesome. (We were actually ostensibly doing an environmental check because that's our assignment, but the place has such filtered air that the reading room actually smelled weird.)
I've been learning the bus system (since I want to know how it works before it's freezing and snowy outside), but when I walk the twenty minutes to campus, I try to take different paths so I can learn the city better. (I think I already know it better than I do Michigan City or Chattanooga, but that's partially because I haven't really lived in Michigan City for years and Southern wasn't a twenty-minute walk from downtown Chattanooga.) Today I was walking a new route to my job at the stacks office when someone behind me spotted my SI bag and decided to give me her contact information because she's an SI grad and knows that we're supposed to network. So that was cool.
Biggest problem so far is that I've been a bit lonely, despite making friends. I miss my jeesh, my fellowship. (You guys know who you are.) Yeah, I'm learning how to keep track of my finances, use coupons and read the grocery ads (though I haven't bought a Sunday paper yet), got Netflix (to watch Doctor Who), navigate the bus system and what not. Yeah, I'm driving to Detroit for a class project and will have to fill out a reimbursement form for the gas money. Yeah, the guy in the apartment next door sometimes walks around without a shirt on (of course I noticed). And there's a guy I only talk with on Wednesday mornings because we share the bus stop for five minutes before the bus arrives. And, yeah, I go to church, but I see them once a week. But overall, no real deep connections anywhere.
So sometimes I wish I had my friends here to discover it all with me. I wish I had Castle nights (I'm still about four episodes behind) and chances to play the character Gwen. Time to go to sleep.
Wow, it's almost October. Which, here in Michigan, is going to end up being Octobrrrr. The leaves are already changing and I think that's thrown me off a bit because I'm still mentally in Tennessee, when it comes to seasons at least.
My favorite class so far is my programming class. I am learning how to code in Python.
Today for a class project (for a different class), I got to see the Papyrology Collection, which includes wooden mummy tags, various ostraka--and the oldest manuscript of a good portion of Paul's letters. I saw part of the book of Romans--11:36 to about 12:something--written in Greek on papyrus. It was ridiculously awesome. (We were actually ostensibly doing an environmental check because that's our assignment, but the place has such filtered air that the reading room actually smelled weird.)
I've been learning the bus system (since I want to know how it works before it's freezing and snowy outside), but when I walk the twenty minutes to campus, I try to take different paths so I can learn the city better. (I think I already know it better than I do Michigan City or Chattanooga, but that's partially because I haven't really lived in Michigan City for years and Southern wasn't a twenty-minute walk from downtown Chattanooga.) Today I was walking a new route to my job at the stacks office when someone behind me spotted my SI bag and decided to give me her contact information because she's an SI grad and knows that we're supposed to network. So that was cool.
Biggest problem so far is that I've been a bit lonely, despite making friends. I miss my jeesh, my fellowship. (You guys know who you are.) Yeah, I'm learning how to keep track of my finances, use coupons and read the grocery ads (though I haven't bought a Sunday paper yet), got Netflix (to watch Doctor Who), navigate the bus system and what not. Yeah, I'm driving to Detroit for a class project and will have to fill out a reimbursement form for the gas money. Yeah, the guy in the apartment next door sometimes walks around without a shirt on (of course I noticed). And there's a guy I only talk with on Wednesday mornings because we share the bus stop for five minutes before the bus arrives. And, yeah, I go to church, but I see them once a week. But overall, no real deep connections anywhere.
So sometimes I wish I had my friends here to discover it all with me. I wish I had Castle nights (I'm still about four episodes behind) and chances to play the character Gwen. Time to go to sleep.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Pedestrian
11-8-11
Walking around a place lets you get to know it better than if you just zip through in some fancy schmancy vehicle. That's my opinion, anyway.
Granted, I am a little biased because I prefer walking to driving (when I can, of course), but I think it holds true. There's only so little one can see from the driver's seat of a car. Now, there's more to see if you're a passenger, but most often, there's no getting out and experiencing the place.
For ten and a half months I walked on Ebeye. Now, there's a place to be a pedestrian. You can do a circuit of the entire island in half an hour if you don't stop to talk to anybody. That's a rarity, though, because people are everywhere, especially in the cool of the evening. The sidewalks are the congregating places for the people--kids play in the street, everyone watches out for the taxis, and everybody spends time together (usually while watching a pickup basketball game). I miss that feeling of togetherness that came with the end of the day, out on the streets and in our apartments.
Last year I was forced to be a pedestrian on campus. Even though it had already been my plan to walk to classes and work (because I think it's sort of stupid to drive from Southern Village to the rest of campus), I no longer had a vehicle with which to be tempted. So I walked. I still walk this year (even though I've got The Green Machine) and it's still cheaper and healthier than driving.
Besides, you see things when you walk from place to place. At least, if you're paying attention, that is. You can see things like the different ways the ocean looks at different times during the day, or the ways the dogs play and fight and which one is the boss this week, if the corner shop that sells fried doughnuts painted its exterior walls yet, if the roosters were fighting on the corrugated metal roofs while the cats idly watched.
You see things when you walk from place to place. At least, if you're paying attention, that is. You can see things like the way that tree looks like it's on fire from the bottom up (even though it's just the leaves changing color), or the fact that a groundhog (or something akin to one) lives underneath the Promenade near Brock, the lemons scrawled onto the concrete, the chipmunks darting from rock to rock, the beads of water on the flowers, the American goldfinches clinging to the weeds (well, before Landscape Services comes and cleans up that particular flowerbed), the cardinals, the squirrels, the way the sun squints through the leaves and winks at the students walking by.
Walking forces you to slow down. (Normally, anyway. If you plan enough time for it.) Walking allows for time to think and talk and pray, for time to be and breathe and see.
When Wind Symphony was in Chicago, IL, during our Fall '07 tour, we got to traipse through downtown Chicago, and right there in the middle of evening traffic was a man playing a clarinet that had duct tape holding it together. And the first thing I had wondered was if anybody but us was actually hearing this guy--and I still wonder, since today's society seems to be about rushrushrush, quickquickquick.
Being a pedestrian is not pedestrian. As long as you pay attention.
More later.
Walking around a place lets you get to know it better than if you just zip through in some fancy schmancy vehicle. That's my opinion, anyway.
Granted, I am a little biased because I prefer walking to driving (when I can, of course), but I think it holds true. There's only so little one can see from the driver's seat of a car. Now, there's more to see if you're a passenger, but most often, there's no getting out and experiencing the place.
For ten and a half months I walked on Ebeye. Now, there's a place to be a pedestrian. You can do a circuit of the entire island in half an hour if you don't stop to talk to anybody. That's a rarity, though, because people are everywhere, especially in the cool of the evening. The sidewalks are the congregating places for the people--kids play in the street, everyone watches out for the taxis, and everybody spends time together (usually while watching a pickup basketball game). I miss that feeling of togetherness that came with the end of the day, out on the streets and in our apartments.
Last year I was forced to be a pedestrian on campus. Even though it had already been my plan to walk to classes and work (because I think it's sort of stupid to drive from Southern Village to the rest of campus), I no longer had a vehicle with which to be tempted. So I walked. I still walk this year (even though I've got The Green Machine) and it's still cheaper and healthier than driving.
Besides, you see things when you walk from place to place. At least, if you're paying attention, that is. You can see things like the different ways the ocean looks at different times during the day, or the ways the dogs play and fight and which one is the boss this week, if the corner shop that sells fried doughnuts painted its exterior walls yet, if the roosters were fighting on the corrugated metal roofs while the cats idly watched.
You see things when you walk from place to place. At least, if you're paying attention, that is. You can see things like the way that tree looks like it's on fire from the bottom up (even though it's just the leaves changing color), or the fact that a groundhog (or something akin to one) lives underneath the Promenade near Brock, the lemons scrawled onto the concrete, the chipmunks darting from rock to rock, the beads of water on the flowers, the American goldfinches clinging to the weeds (well, before Landscape Services comes and cleans up that particular flowerbed), the cardinals, the squirrels, the way the sun squints through the leaves and winks at the students walking by.
Walking forces you to slow down. (Normally, anyway. If you plan enough time for it.) Walking allows for time to think and talk and pray, for time to be and breathe and see.
When Wind Symphony was in Chicago, IL, during our Fall '07 tour, we got to traipse through downtown Chicago, and right there in the middle of evening traffic was a man playing a clarinet that had duct tape holding it together. And the first thing I had wondered was if anybody but us was actually hearing this guy--and I still wonder, since today's society seems to be about rushrushrush, quickquickquick.
Being a pedestrian is not pedestrian. As long as you pay attention.
More later.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Root Beer Floats and Answered Prayers
10-22-11
When I was at Red Robin yesterday, I totally made the waitress' day. The hostess had seated us, and the waitress (her name is Cindy) came up to the hostess and said, "I have to sell only one more and then I win!" in this excited tone of anticipation.
Curious, I said, "What do you have to sell one more of?"
"A root beer float!" Cindy said. I thought I could hear the tone of hope in her voice.
"Well, how much are they?" I asked.
Cindy grabbed my menu and looked. "Three dollars," she said.
"I'll have one," I said. I mean, it was technically my money I was spending, but I was being paid back and it was through my mom's card and so it felt like free money, oxymoron as that is.
"Really?"
"Yes, really. I want a root beer float."
Cindy practically leaped from my table to the back to get the said root beer float. Another lady (maybe a manager) came out and talked to me and said that Cindy was "ecstatic" about winning. And all she got was points to put into a drawing toward a trip to Orlando, Florida.
I suppose I should have written about this yesterday, but it slipped my mind when I was recounting my day in the previous post. I suppose it was a pretty major thing to Cindy, but I just felt like doing it. This morning I overslept and so I streamed Adoration and watched Pastor Dave's sermon, wherein he talked about how we should live our lives with the idea that sometimes God uses us to answer other people's prayers.
It reminded me of Ebeye. My first Sabbath there, Pastor Tommy said that the church had been praying and praying for teachers, and the thought struck me: We were those teachers that God had sent in answer to their prayer for teachers, and that just totally floored me.
So I wonder, Was I an answer to prayer yesterday? I certainly made the lady very happy. I mean, I'll probably never know if Cindy wins that trip to Orlando, but I am happy that I made her so very happy by ordering a root beer float. But I truly hope that we do live our lives in such a way that we are enabled to be answers to other people's prayers.
More later.
When I was at Red Robin yesterday, I totally made the waitress' day. The hostess had seated us, and the waitress (her name is Cindy) came up to the hostess and said, "I have to sell only one more and then I win!" in this excited tone of anticipation.
Curious, I said, "What do you have to sell one more of?"
"A root beer float!" Cindy said. I thought I could hear the tone of hope in her voice.
"Well, how much are they?" I asked.
Cindy grabbed my menu and looked. "Three dollars," she said.
"I'll have one," I said. I mean, it was technically my money I was spending, but I was being paid back and it was through my mom's card and so it felt like free money, oxymoron as that is.
"Really?"
"Yes, really. I want a root beer float."
Cindy practically leaped from my table to the back to get the said root beer float. Another lady (maybe a manager) came out and talked to me and said that Cindy was "ecstatic" about winning. And all she got was points to put into a drawing toward a trip to Orlando, Florida.
I suppose I should have written about this yesterday, but it slipped my mind when I was recounting my day in the previous post. I suppose it was a pretty major thing to Cindy, but I just felt like doing it. This morning I overslept and so I streamed Adoration and watched Pastor Dave's sermon, wherein he talked about how we should live our lives with the idea that sometimes God uses us to answer other people's prayers.
It reminded me of Ebeye. My first Sabbath there, Pastor Tommy said that the church had been praying and praying for teachers, and the thought struck me: We were those teachers that God had sent in answer to their prayer for teachers, and that just totally floored me.
So I wonder, Was I an answer to prayer yesterday? I certainly made the lady very happy. I mean, I'll probably never know if Cindy wins that trip to Orlando, but I am happy that I made her so very happy by ordering a root beer float. But I truly hope that we do live our lives in such a way that we are enabled to be answers to other people's prayers.
More later.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Rain (and Other Sundry Bits of Information)
9-5-11
So, rain decided to come in through the part of my window where the curved window meets the rectangular window. Not cool. I texted and called JP, and she got someone from Plant Services to look at it. He dried it and put some plumber's putty on it, but I have to leave my room disarranged so that someone can look at it tomorrow to see what else needs to be done with it. *sigh* You would think that living in a newly finished apartment would mean that I wouldn't be having to deal with this.
I mean, on Ebeye, water came in the window, ran down the wall, soaked my mattress and got my papers wet. But I sort of expected stuff like that to happen. Here, in this new apartment, I didn't. But I suppose both the window and my perspective need fixing on the matter. Still, it's supposed to rain most of the rest of the week. (Thanks, Lee!)
In other news, I've made contact with both of my beats for News Reporting class. (I originally wrote that as Newsreporting class, and that's decidedly not an English construction. So at least I can tell that I've been paying attention in German. I sort of have to, seeing as I'm the only one in Intermediate German.) There's a lot of interesting things going on, despite the fact that both of the people I talked to don't think anything going on in their departments is interesting. Guess I should go write my beat report.
Also, I understand that everyone is busy, but if I send a text, I'd at least like a response saying that you're too busy. (Does that make sense? Silence makes me feel that I've angered you somehow, or that you've decided that I'm not worth answering. Granted, that's my problem, but yeah, doesn't make it bother me less.) [Note: the "you" here is not everyone, but the "you" probably doesn't read my blog, but I still wanted to get that off my chest. Right now I just feel like a friend of convenience, and I know we're better friends than that.]
More later.
So, rain decided to come in through the part of my window where the curved window meets the rectangular window. Not cool. I texted and called JP, and she got someone from Plant Services to look at it. He dried it and put some plumber's putty on it, but I have to leave my room disarranged so that someone can look at it tomorrow to see what else needs to be done with it. *sigh* You would think that living in a newly finished apartment would mean that I wouldn't be having to deal with this.
I mean, on Ebeye, water came in the window, ran down the wall, soaked my mattress and got my papers wet. But I sort of expected stuff like that to happen. Here, in this new apartment, I didn't. But I suppose both the window and my perspective need fixing on the matter. Still, it's supposed to rain most of the rest of the week. (Thanks, Lee!)
In other news, I've made contact with both of my beats for News Reporting class. (I originally wrote that as Newsreporting class, and that's decidedly not an English construction. So at least I can tell that I've been paying attention in German. I sort of have to, seeing as I'm the only one in Intermediate German.) There's a lot of interesting things going on, despite the fact that both of the people I talked to don't think anything going on in their departments is interesting. Guess I should go write my beat report.
Also, I understand that everyone is busy, but if I send a text, I'd at least like a response saying that you're too busy. (Does that make sense? Silence makes me feel that I've angered you somehow, or that you've decided that I'm not worth answering. Granted, that's my problem, but yeah, doesn't make it bother me less.) [Note: the "you" here is not everyone, but the "you" probably doesn't read my blog, but I still wanted to get that off my chest. Right now I just feel like a friend of convenience, and I know we're better friends than that.]
More later.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Rain
9-2-11
Rain. I love how it sounds when it patters against the roof and windows, how the thunder rolls and the lightning flashes, how the dry, cracked earth soaks up what it has badly needed.
I went out to my truck to make sure that the duct-tape window was keeping the rain off my back seat. (So far, so good.)
I went barefoot, with the wet new smooth sidewalk underfoot. The wind pushed the rain around a bit, but nothing too bad. I laughed, though I'm not entirely sure why. I walked slowly, though I'm not entirely sure why.
I thought about getting caught in rainstorms at camp or on Ebeye, about looking forward to rain. I wondered how Elijah felt when that very first drop hit the ground after three years of drought. What would it be like if we looked for blessings the same way we look for rain?
More later.
--Ashlee
Rain. I love how it sounds when it patters against the roof and windows, how the thunder rolls and the lightning flashes, how the dry, cracked earth soaks up what it has badly needed.
I went out to my truck to make sure that the duct-tape window was keeping the rain off my back seat. (So far, so good.)
I went barefoot, with the wet new smooth sidewalk underfoot. The wind pushed the rain around a bit, but nothing too bad. I laughed, though I'm not entirely sure why. I walked slowly, though I'm not entirely sure why.
I thought about getting caught in rainstorms at camp or on Ebeye, about looking forward to rain. I wondered how Elijah felt when that very first drop hit the ground after three years of drought. What would it be like if we looked for blessings the same way we look for rain?
More later.
--Ashlee
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
If You Multiply The Month with the Year, You Get Today's Date
2-22-11 <--At least, when it's written in this format. And which has nothing to do with this post.
No fiction-y thing tonight, but description. So maybe it's sort of fiction-y. Okay, it is.
-----
The light pours from the sky, soaking the people as they walk along the betelnut-juice-stained sidewalks. It's not much different from when it rains, except then the people duck under awnings or behind cement block walls as the wind whips the rain around the houses.
Children laugh--a high-pitched cacophony of squeals and giggles--as they run barefooted across the cement or wobble their ways down the street on wheeled devices, avoiding the dogs, bicycles, taxis and adults. The people lounge in the evening's cool, sitting outside their houses, chatting, gossiping, scolding the children when they slam a beat-up basketball into the walls of the houses.
The sun sinks magnificently into the ocean--the sky painted with reds, pinks, oranges--the light dancing over and through the waves that sound like the wind in leaveless trees--and then, blip! the sun disappears, leaving the island in semi-darkness.
And on nights when the power's gone off, when the air conditioners stop whirring and start rusting from the inside out, when the televisions and interior lights stay off, the stars shine, looking as if they--brilliant gems on a black velvet cloth--could be plucked from the sky and kept in the mind's treasure-store to be brought forth as shiny as when first made.
-----
And there's more, but I'm trying to keep my posts shorter so Brooke will read them. :D
More later.
No fiction-y thing tonight, but description. So maybe it's sort of fiction-y. Okay, it is.
-----
The light pours from the sky, soaking the people as they walk along the betelnut-juice-stained sidewalks. It's not much different from when it rains, except then the people duck under awnings or behind cement block walls as the wind whips the rain around the houses.
Children laugh--a high-pitched cacophony of squeals and giggles--as they run barefooted across the cement or wobble their ways down the street on wheeled devices, avoiding the dogs, bicycles, taxis and adults. The people lounge in the evening's cool, sitting outside their houses, chatting, gossiping, scolding the children when they slam a beat-up basketball into the walls of the houses.
The sun sinks magnificently into the ocean--the sky painted with reds, pinks, oranges--the light dancing over and through the waves that sound like the wind in leaveless trees--and then, blip! the sun disappears, leaving the island in semi-darkness.
And on nights when the power's gone off, when the air conditioners stop whirring and start rusting from the inside out, when the televisions and interior lights stay off, the stars shine, looking as if they--brilliant gems on a black velvet cloth--could be plucked from the sky and kept in the mind's treasure-store to be brought forth as shiny as when first made.
-----
And there's more, but I'm trying to keep my posts shorter so Brooke will read them. :D
More later.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Productivity
2-3-11
Today I got a lot accomplished, even if it wasn't necessarily what I wanted to have gotten done.
I'm learning how to be flexible. It's been a long process since I started learning on that Maranatha trip to Peru in 2005 and during my first summer of camp in 2006, and I'm a lot more flexible than I used to be, but I like things to be orderly and planned. Ducks in a row, that sort of thing.
Today I planned to have practice with my director again; he was sick, so I still practiced, but without him.
Today I planned to get my check request from my financial adviser and take it to accounting in order to get it ready to take it to the Credit Union so I can pay off that one private loan; he was sick, so that got put off until next week.
Today I hoped/planned on going to a friend's hockey game; there wasn't anybody else who was driving to watch, so I had no ride and couldn't go. (<--This I was super disappointed about. I really want to see this friend's games.) Instead, I did laundry, sorted stuff, was productive, wrote two blog posts, watched the last three episodes of the Colbert Report, etc.,
I've gotten decently good at time management, but that leaves me with weird amounts of free time. I'm ahead of myself, and though that's a little time-paradoxical, I'm having to figure out what to do in that time. I don't want to waste time, I want to use it wisely. Maybe use it to build relationships and such, like we did with all that extra time on Ebeye. But then I couldn't be the only person with "extra" time, and sometimes that seems to be the case. *sigh* Sometimes I miss that island.
Today I got a lot accomplished, even if it wasn't necessarily what I wanted to have gotten done.
I'm learning how to be flexible. It's been a long process since I started learning on that Maranatha trip to Peru in 2005 and during my first summer of camp in 2006, and I'm a lot more flexible than I used to be, but I like things to be orderly and planned. Ducks in a row, that sort of thing.
Today I planned to have practice with my director again; he was sick, so I still practiced, but without him.
Today I planned to get my check request from my financial adviser and take it to accounting in order to get it ready to take it to the Credit Union so I can pay off that one private loan; he was sick, so that got put off until next week.
Today I hoped/planned on going to a friend's hockey game; there wasn't anybody else who was driving to watch, so I had no ride and couldn't go. (<--This I was super disappointed about. I really want to see this friend's games.) Instead, I did laundry, sorted stuff, was productive, wrote two blog posts, watched the last three episodes of the Colbert Report, etc.,
I've gotten decently good at time management, but that leaves me with weird amounts of free time. I'm ahead of myself, and though that's a little time-paradoxical, I'm having to figure out what to do in that time. I don't want to waste time, I want to use it wisely. Maybe use it to build relationships and such, like we did with all that extra time on Ebeye. But then I couldn't be the only person with "extra" time, and sometimes that seems to be the case. *sigh* Sometimes I miss that island.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Concert Week
10-14-10
It's a concert week, and an honors seminar night, which is the only reason I'm still at school on a non-work night at 6:35 PM.
Unfortunately, rehearsal and honors seminar overlap, so I only get to go to half an hour of rehearsal. I know my parts, but that's not the point.
*sigh* I wish I had more time with my friends. I miss being able to hang out at night like we did on Ebeye. I'm such a quality time person, and I wish I had more of it. And words of affirmation. Those are nice as well.
More later.
Ashlee
It's a concert week, and an honors seminar night, which is the only reason I'm still at school on a non-work night at 6:35 PM.
Unfortunately, rehearsal and honors seminar overlap, so I only get to go to half an hour of rehearsal. I know my parts, but that's not the point.
*sigh* I wish I had more time with my friends. I miss being able to hang out at night like we did on Ebeye. I'm such a quality time person, and I wish I had more of it. And words of affirmation. Those are nice as well.
More later.
Ashlee
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Productive Break and Random Thoughts
11-29-09
Productive. That's the word I would use to describe my Thanksgiving Break. That, and relaxing. I finished about 1/3 of my education portfolio and have made progress on the other 2/3rds. I'm almost completely caught up with education reflection moments on LiveText, and I wrote what is hopefully a first draft of my book review for American Literature (that's due Wednesday). I also spent most of Thursday at a friend's house (she insisted when she heard that I was staying in the dorm over break), didn't need to eat in the cafeteria until Sabbath lunch (since I had bought enough food to eat in my room until that point), watched Ironman, some Stargate SG-1, The Incredibles, and Pride and Prejudice. I jammed to the Matthew West CD I bought on Wednesday, and I slept in until 10 AM on Friday and went to bed that night at 7:00. I always sleep well on Friday nights. I have enjoyed my break, and it's sort of bittersweet to see it go by so quickly. Then again, it means that Christmas break is right around the corner--but also that our Christmas concert and finals are right around the corner.
It's hard to believe that it has been almost six months since I arrived back in the States. I have been busy, busy, busy. In some ways, that's a good thing. In other ways, not so good. Not counting the days of Christmas Break that I haven't lived yet, I have spent only thirteen days out of this year in the same dwelling as my family (the first five months I was on Ebeye, then I was at camp, and now I've been at school). It's strange that I'm about to be finished with my semester back at Southern. It feels odd that Ebeye seems longer ago than it really was, and it feels oddly right that I miss it as much as I do. I miss camp, too, but I know I'll go back to camp. Ebeye--well, I don't know about going back to Ebeye. I would, certainly, but I don't know if I ever will. And that makes me sort of sad, because I miss my life there. And the friends I made. And the students I taught. Etc., etc., etc.,
I miss the fact that people wanted to hear about where I had been and what I had done there. Are my pictures and stories just for myself? I thought we were supposed to share the stories, the pictures, etc.,, not lock them away on hard drives and minds, not limit the stories and the passion to one week and one expo. Going is worth it, it really is. I believe that, I really do. But I don't know why people don't ask. I don't want to be all rude and in their face, but I want someone to listen about Ebeye. Not to pay attention to me, though I suppose that might play into it (if I'm trying to be honest, which I am), but to pay attention to Ebeye. Yes, it's a little island. Yes, it's crowded. Yes, there's not always a whole ton of things to do. But it has people in need of Jesus there. It has students in need of teachers there (and not just one or two teachers, but enough teachers for the whole school). It has need of student missionaries there, because everyone seems to pick the big islands with mountains and even more awesome diving and tourist attractions and a more spread out population. Ebeye's like the forgotten child of the islands, and people don't understand why I went there. Even though that should be plain. I went there because God called me there and because I tried to answer that call to the best of my ability and to God's enabling.
Productive. That's the word I would use to describe my Thanksgiving Break. That, and relaxing. I finished about 1/3 of my education portfolio and have made progress on the other 2/3rds. I'm almost completely caught up with education reflection moments on LiveText, and I wrote what is hopefully a first draft of my book review for American Literature (that's due Wednesday). I also spent most of Thursday at a friend's house (she insisted when she heard that I was staying in the dorm over break), didn't need to eat in the cafeteria until Sabbath lunch (since I had bought enough food to eat in my room until that point), watched Ironman, some Stargate SG-1, The Incredibles, and Pride and Prejudice. I jammed to the Matthew West CD I bought on Wednesday, and I slept in until 10 AM on Friday and went to bed that night at 7:00. I always sleep well on Friday nights. I have enjoyed my break, and it's sort of bittersweet to see it go by so quickly. Then again, it means that Christmas break is right around the corner--but also that our Christmas concert and finals are right around the corner.
It's hard to believe that it has been almost six months since I arrived back in the States. I have been busy, busy, busy. In some ways, that's a good thing. In other ways, not so good. Not counting the days of Christmas Break that I haven't lived yet, I have spent only thirteen days out of this year in the same dwelling as my family (the first five months I was on Ebeye, then I was at camp, and now I've been at school). It's strange that I'm about to be finished with my semester back at Southern. It feels odd that Ebeye seems longer ago than it really was, and it feels oddly right that I miss it as much as I do. I miss camp, too, but I know I'll go back to camp. Ebeye--well, I don't know about going back to Ebeye. I would, certainly, but I don't know if I ever will. And that makes me sort of sad, because I miss my life there. And the friends I made. And the students I taught. Etc., etc., etc.,
I miss the fact that people wanted to hear about where I had been and what I had done there. Are my pictures and stories just for myself? I thought we were supposed to share the stories, the pictures, etc.,, not lock them away on hard drives and minds, not limit the stories and the passion to one week and one expo. Going is worth it, it really is. I believe that, I really do. But I don't know why people don't ask. I don't want to be all rude and in their face, but I want someone to listen about Ebeye. Not to pay attention to me, though I suppose that might play into it (if I'm trying to be honest, which I am), but to pay attention to Ebeye. Yes, it's a little island. Yes, it's crowded. Yes, there's not always a whole ton of things to do. But it has people in need of Jesus there. It has students in need of teachers there (and not just one or two teachers, but enough teachers for the whole school). It has need of student missionaries there, because everyone seems to pick the big islands with mountains and even more awesome diving and tourist attractions and a more spread out population. Ebeye's like the forgotten child of the islands, and people don't understand why I went there. Even though that should be plain. I went there because God called me there and because I tried to answer that call to the best of my ability and to God's enabling.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Student Missions Emphasis Week, Busyness, and Dive Boots
11-10-09
Last week was incredibly busy. I'm a Student Missions Club officer, and so I was involved in much of the preparation and execution of Student Missions Emphasis Week, which took place last week. I spent a portion of Sunday borrowing cell phones and making calls in order to get people to hand out hot drinks of the Promenade for last Monday morning. Blessedly, we got enough people. Although the setup of the drinks left me a little breathless (I ran from the Student Center to Brock in order to get to my first class), the day went smoothly. My friend Kevin helped me gather all the leftover supplies together, and I suppose someone put them away while I was at work. Anyway, then we handed out candy and invitations in the dorms on Tuesday evening. It took me an hour and a half to cover the third and fourth floors of Thatcher South, but I think it was well worth it. One person even told me, "This is the third time someone's told me about the Expo." And my reply? "Good." Wednesday we wore cultural dress, and on Thursday we wore our white flag shirts (and my flag shirt has unfortunately had a washing machine accident and I hope I can get the pink out; I washed the load in cold, and somehow a jacket bled onto my bath towel, a sock, and part of my flag shirt. I am not pleased.). On Friday we had set-up for the Expo, and then we had vespers. Vespers went smoothly, and the Expo did, too. Three people signed up as interested in Ebeye, and that, of course, excites me. But all the booths had at least one person sign as interested, and that excites me even more.
I am very busy, as my last post noted. Homework, of course, but I'm also working on the next issue of Roots and on several homework-y projects that are due within a few weeks (like a research paper for Cross-Cultural Experience or my paper for American Literature over The Grapes of Wrath; I need to buckle down and do those papers). I recently finished reading Moby Dick, and I'm not entirely sure why it's still read today (especially since I'm a fast reader and this book took me a year to read). Seriously, it was thin on plot and thick on encyclopedia. I would have preferred to read a short story about the whalers who all die but Ishmael because of a crazy hunt of Moby Dick, the White Whale, instead of having to wade through all the detailed descriptions of the different types of whales and Melville's rambly rants about everything. Also, I don't think I actually care about what the stupid whale symbolizes. I have some guesses, but you know what? I don't care. Perhaps that goes against everything an English major stands for, but, also, not much on the caring. I still need to finish Paradise Lost, which is also taking me a long time, but that's not because I don't enjoy it. That's because I have to be "in the mood" for epic poetry and have time to digest it properly. I haven't had time for that since I was subbing for Amanda during a week of Junior camp and got to swing in her hammock. Plus, I've been adding exercise, because it makes me sleep like a rock. In two days, I've walked four miles and biked four miles. Me likey.
Also, for randomness' sake, I wore my dive boots this evening, because it was raining and I figured that if my feet were going to get wet, they might as well get warm from the fact that the shoes are insulated. The only downside was that it doesn't have good arch support, but that's about it. They're comfortable, oddly enough.
More later.
Last week was incredibly busy. I'm a Student Missions Club officer, and so I was involved in much of the preparation and execution of Student Missions Emphasis Week, which took place last week. I spent a portion of Sunday borrowing cell phones and making calls in order to get people to hand out hot drinks of the Promenade for last Monday morning. Blessedly, we got enough people. Although the setup of the drinks left me a little breathless (I ran from the Student Center to Brock in order to get to my first class), the day went smoothly. My friend Kevin helped me gather all the leftover supplies together, and I suppose someone put them away while I was at work. Anyway, then we handed out candy and invitations in the dorms on Tuesday evening. It took me an hour and a half to cover the third and fourth floors of Thatcher South, but I think it was well worth it. One person even told me, "This is the third time someone's told me about the Expo." And my reply? "Good." Wednesday we wore cultural dress, and on Thursday we wore our white flag shirts (and my flag shirt has unfortunately had a washing machine accident and I hope I can get the pink out; I washed the load in cold, and somehow a jacket bled onto my bath towel, a sock, and part of my flag shirt. I am not pleased.). On Friday we had set-up for the Expo, and then we had vespers. Vespers went smoothly, and the Expo did, too. Three people signed up as interested in Ebeye, and that, of course, excites me. But all the booths had at least one person sign as interested, and that excites me even more.
I am very busy, as my last post noted. Homework, of course, but I'm also working on the next issue of Roots and on several homework-y projects that are due within a few weeks (like a research paper for Cross-Cultural Experience or my paper for American Literature over The Grapes of Wrath; I need to buckle down and do those papers). I recently finished reading Moby Dick, and I'm not entirely sure why it's still read today (especially since I'm a fast reader and this book took me a year to read). Seriously, it was thin on plot and thick on encyclopedia. I would have preferred to read a short story about the whalers who all die but Ishmael because of a crazy hunt of Moby Dick, the White Whale, instead of having to wade through all the detailed descriptions of the different types of whales and Melville's rambly rants about everything. Also, I don't think I actually care about what the stupid whale symbolizes. I have some guesses, but you know what? I don't care. Perhaps that goes against everything an English major stands for, but, also, not much on the caring. I still need to finish Paradise Lost, which is also taking me a long time, but that's not because I don't enjoy it. That's because I have to be "in the mood" for epic poetry and have time to digest it properly. I haven't had time for that since I was subbing for Amanda during a week of Junior camp and got to swing in her hammock. Plus, I've been adding exercise, because it makes me sleep like a rock. In two days, I've walked four miles and biked four miles. Me likey.
Also, for randomness' sake, I wore my dive boots this evening, because it was raining and I figured that if my feet were going to get wet, they might as well get warm from the fact that the shoes are insulated. The only downside was that it doesn't have good arch support, but that's about it. They're comfortable, oddly enough.
More later.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Wind Symphony and Some Random Facts
10-19-09
Our concert last night went well--definitely not perfectly, but well enough that we got applause (unless they were just being polite). I actually played my parts in "Variations on a Korean Folk Song" better than I have ever played them in the last two months. Yay! Today: no woodwinds sectional. Wednesday: CHRISTMAS MUSIC. Needless to say, I am excited about getting new music to practice and play. December 5th's the concert, in Iles (probably).
Random Facts
-It is very cold outside for it being October in Tennessee. Even the people who were here last year say it's extraordinarily cold. Like frigid. I shiver and hurry to class, and still wear flippity-floppities when I can.
-I am enjoying reading current student missionary blogs. Any time I see a new update, it gets opened on a new tab and I read.
-I miss being on Ebeye. However, I got my yearbook yesterday! And some of the kids from the class I sponsored wrote me notes in what is basically decent English. I felt all warm and fuzzy inside.
-I have an American Literature test today, and I should be reviewing for it instead of making this post. I also have an actual midterm in Christian Beliefs tomorrow morning, and a test over our entire textbook in Introduction and Foundations of Secondary Education tomorrow afternoon. ARGH.
-I am trying to fit in my writing. And making the next Roots newsletter. And sleep. And socialize. And have fun. *sigh*
More later.
Our concert last night went well--definitely not perfectly, but well enough that we got applause (unless they were just being polite). I actually played my parts in "Variations on a Korean Folk Song" better than I have ever played them in the last two months. Yay! Today: no woodwinds sectional. Wednesday: CHRISTMAS MUSIC. Needless to say, I am excited about getting new music to practice and play. December 5th's the concert, in Iles (probably).
Random Facts
-It is very cold outside for it being October in Tennessee. Even the people who were here last year say it's extraordinarily cold. Like frigid. I shiver and hurry to class, and still wear flippity-floppities when I can.
-I am enjoying reading current student missionary blogs. Any time I see a new update, it gets opened on a new tab and I read.
-I miss being on Ebeye. However, I got my yearbook yesterday! And some of the kids from the class I sponsored wrote me notes in what is basically decent English. I felt all warm and fuzzy inside.
-I have an American Literature test today, and I should be reviewing for it instead of making this post. I also have an actual midterm in Christian Beliefs tomorrow morning, and a test over our entire textbook in Introduction and Foundations of Secondary Education tomorrow afternoon. ARGH.
-I am trying to fit in my writing. And making the next Roots newsletter. And sleep. And socialize. And have fun. *sigh*
More later.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Small Group Meeting
10-14-09
We had the small Bible study group made up of returned student missionaries meet tonight. We met in the prayer room near the Campus Ministries office--and I had never been in there before. It has pillows and cushions, fake plants to add greenery, paper, markers, and a cross made out of wood. One wall is sort of like stained glass, but not really. But the truly cool thing was the fact that the walls are covered with handwritten prayers and statements from people who've visited the room. I think I may stop by the room and add to the wall myself, just because there's space and it's an intriguing concept (even if it would feel weird to write on a wall).
Our topic tonight was about peace--and I definitely needed peace tonight. I've been feeling all stressed and overwhelmed and tired, and I didn't even want to go tonight (funny how the nights you need it the most, you don't want to go). But I was truly blessed and really enjoyed it. We even left our shoes outside the room, and that made me think about Ebeye and how we took shoes off by front doors there, so as to not track sand all over the place. :D
Now to bed. More later.
We had the small Bible study group made up of returned student missionaries meet tonight. We met in the prayer room near the Campus Ministries office--and I had never been in there before. It has pillows and cushions, fake plants to add greenery, paper, markers, and a cross made out of wood. One wall is sort of like stained glass, but not really. But the truly cool thing was the fact that the walls are covered with handwritten prayers and statements from people who've visited the room. I think I may stop by the room and add to the wall myself, just because there's space and it's an intriguing concept (even if it would feel weird to write on a wall).
Our topic tonight was about peace--and I definitely needed peace tonight. I've been feeling all stressed and overwhelmed and tired, and I didn't even want to go tonight (funny how the nights you need it the most, you don't want to go). But I was truly blessed and really enjoyed it. We even left our shoes outside the room, and that made me think about Ebeye and how we took shoes off by front doors there, so as to not track sand all over the place. :D
Now to bed. More later.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I Hate Picking Titles
10-13-09
Seriously, I do. Picking a title that conveys the summation of the entire blog post is one of the worst things to do. I mean, does it have to be creative? Spectacularly witty? Full of verbosity?
Whatever. My minute/day/week is going well. I got the first issue of Roots (the newsletter that we send to the current student missionaries) finished and printed out, and I even helped put them into the envelopes for the mailing that's soon to go out. It was a good feeling of accomplishment. Then I went back to the dorm and accidentally washed my flash drive. I haven't checked if it works yet; I've been letting it dry.
I got a 94 on my second statistics test, and that was as exciting as the first 94. I think that Statistics is my favorite class, even though I have both an English and a history class in my schedule this semester. Maybe it's the challenge of learning something new and foreign to my brain, and maybe it's the teacher's teaching style--maybe both--but my mom thinks it's weird that my math class is my favorite. (However, I will be happy when I won't have to walk from Brock to Hickman every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in seven and a half minutes.)
It's a little difficult to believe that it's almost midterm break (which, unfortunately, means I have midterms in every class next week). It's almost November, which means that I will have been back in the States for a total of five months. It seems like a lot longer--and a lot less. Especially since it's getting colder, I keep thinking about Ebeye--my students, my fellow SMs, my ocean views. I do miss it, and I would go back. Just saying.
I wish I had more time to hang out with people--but I'm here for an education, and I'm here to pay for my education (meaning I have classes and I have work). But I have to admit that I like it when God lets me bump into somebody I can have a catch-up chat with.
Wind Symphony concert on Sunday night, which means we play at church for the first two services. We also have a two-hour practice on Thursday night, and two practices on Friday. Fun fun. It's why I wore my gray dress pants to field experience instead of my black dress pants (which are a part of my band uniform). I think I'm decently practiced for this concert--I think I've practiced more this semester than in any other college semester to date. I think I've made it slightly more of a priority, and that's because I enjoy the challenge of playing my bass clarinet. Also, we picked to go to Indiana/Michigan/Canada/NYC/Maryland for band tour. It also means I have to buy a flight from Maryland to Indiana so I can make it to Katie and Wade's wedding on May 16 (but it will definitely be worth it).
I am reading The Grapes of Wrath for American Literature class. Sad, but intriguing. I find myself wanting to know what happens to the Joads, even if the whole book is written in dialect (which is sometimes difficult to read). More later.
Seriously, I do. Picking a title that conveys the summation of the entire blog post is one of the worst things to do. I mean, does it have to be creative? Spectacularly witty? Full of verbosity?
Whatever. My minute/day/week is going well. I got the first issue of Roots (the newsletter that we send to the current student missionaries) finished and printed out, and I even helped put them into the envelopes for the mailing that's soon to go out. It was a good feeling of accomplishment. Then I went back to the dorm and accidentally washed my flash drive. I haven't checked if it works yet; I've been letting it dry.
I got a 94 on my second statistics test, and that was as exciting as the first 94. I think that Statistics is my favorite class, even though I have both an English and a history class in my schedule this semester. Maybe it's the challenge of learning something new and foreign to my brain, and maybe it's the teacher's teaching style--maybe both--but my mom thinks it's weird that my math class is my favorite. (However, I will be happy when I won't have to walk from Brock to Hickman every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in seven and a half minutes.)
It's a little difficult to believe that it's almost midterm break (which, unfortunately, means I have midterms in every class next week). It's almost November, which means that I will have been back in the States for a total of five months. It seems like a lot longer--and a lot less. Especially since it's getting colder, I keep thinking about Ebeye--my students, my fellow SMs, my ocean views. I do miss it, and I would go back. Just saying.
I wish I had more time to hang out with people--but I'm here for an education, and I'm here to pay for my education (meaning I have classes and I have work). But I have to admit that I like it when God lets me bump into somebody I can have a catch-up chat with.
Wind Symphony concert on Sunday night, which means we play at church for the first two services. We also have a two-hour practice on Thursday night, and two practices on Friday. Fun fun. It's why I wore my gray dress pants to field experience instead of my black dress pants (which are a part of my band uniform). I think I'm decently practiced for this concert--I think I've practiced more this semester than in any other college semester to date. I think I've made it slightly more of a priority, and that's because I enjoy the challenge of playing my bass clarinet. Also, we picked to go to Indiana/Michigan/Canada/NYC/Maryland for band tour. It also means I have to buy a flight from Maryland to Indiana so I can make it to Katie and Wade's wedding on May 16 (but it will definitely be worth it).
I am reading The Grapes of Wrath for American Literature class. Sad, but intriguing. I find myself wanting to know what happens to the Joads, even if the whole book is written in dialect (which is sometimes difficult to read). More later.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Raising Eyebrows
10-1-09
In the Marshall Islands, raising one's eyebrows is a tacit signal that speaks clearly. It means, "Go on, I'm listening, keep talking," when used in a conversation, and "yes" in other situations. At first it was a little disconcerting last year when I would take roll, and wouldn't get any answers from my classes--until I realized that I wasn't looking at them to get the answers, since they were raising their eyebrows. I had to look at them to connect and to communicate.
Americans don't look at each other. I wonder if it's because we're so busy, or because we're uncomfortable with each other. (And perhaps we're uncomfortable with each other because we don't spend enough time with each other, as a result of being busy, but that's a different topic, I suppose.) A few weeks' ago, my suitemates and I were having a conversation, and they were playing with the balloons that they and my roommate had filled the room with for my birthday. It felt as if they weren't listening, even though I knew they were listening. I was getting frustrated and something clicked in my mind, and I realized it was because I was expecting them to be raising their eyebrows. Silly me. Americans don't do that. :D
While on Ebeye, I learned something about God through this particular cultural custom. I learned that God created Sabbath so that He could raise His eyebrows at us, and us at Him. He wants to spend personal time with us, both on Sabbath and not on Sabbath. Face-to-face communication. Eyebrows raised in tacit encouragement and relationship building. The only way for us to get answers to the questions we have in life is to look continually at Him. It's the only way to connect and to communicate.
Just some of the things I've been pondering. More later.
In the Marshall Islands, raising one's eyebrows is a tacit signal that speaks clearly. It means, "Go on, I'm listening, keep talking," when used in a conversation, and "yes" in other situations. At first it was a little disconcerting last year when I would take roll, and wouldn't get any answers from my classes--until I realized that I wasn't looking at them to get the answers, since they were raising their eyebrows. I had to look at them to connect and to communicate.
Americans don't look at each other. I wonder if it's because we're so busy, or because we're uncomfortable with each other. (And perhaps we're uncomfortable with each other because we don't spend enough time with each other, as a result of being busy, but that's a different topic, I suppose.) A few weeks' ago, my suitemates and I were having a conversation, and they were playing with the balloons that they and my roommate had filled the room with for my birthday. It felt as if they weren't listening, even though I knew they were listening. I was getting frustrated and something clicked in my mind, and I realized it was because I was expecting them to be raising their eyebrows. Silly me. Americans don't do that. :D
While on Ebeye, I learned something about God through this particular cultural custom. I learned that God created Sabbath so that He could raise His eyebrows at us, and us at Him. He wants to spend personal time with us, both on Sabbath and not on Sabbath. Face-to-face communication. Eyebrows raised in tacit encouragement and relationship building. The only way for us to get answers to the questions we have in life is to look continually at Him. It's the only way to connect and to communicate.
Just some of the things I've been pondering. More later.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Fire Drills and Growing Up
9-15-09
I am so over being a dorm student. I first arrived at the conclusion at the horrid hour of 1:15 AM last Thursday night, when I was awoken from blissful slumber to the shrill tones of an unplanned fire alarm. I slipped on my flip-flops, grabbed my glasses, ID card, and jacket, and headed out to the place I'm supposed to check in. (I'm glad I'd scouted out the place the day before, since until yesterday there hadn't been maps of the location.) We were speedily checked in and I was back in bed by two. However, when we were permitted to re-enter Thatcher South, the RAs (who were doing their jobs, bless them) kept shouting, "Go back to your own rooms, we're going to have check!" I was like, "Seriously? It's almost two in the morning. Where ELSE am I going to be? I want to be in bed, asleep." And that was the moment of truth (zen, Jon Stewart would say).
At worship, I sat behind Dean Mathis, who is the dean of Southern Village (which I did not know at the time). She asked me how my day was, and I replied, and then I brought the story about me realizing that I had matured past life as a dorm student, and she suggested that I try for Southern Village next semester. So today I tried to find more information, but of course the Housing office is closed. I'll keep trying until I get an answer. I want to try it, but only if it has a benefit for me.
The cementing of this first concept (about me and the dorm not being exactly compatible anymore) came last night, when we had a planned fire drill at 11:15 PM. I say "planned," but since it's verboten to let us residents know of such things, it came as quite a bit of shock. The reason it was annoying was because I'd gone to be the hour before because I NEEDED THE SLEEP. How is it that every time I go to bed decently early, we have a fire drill? And of course the RAs said the same exact things as we were going back into the dorm. Besides, how fun is it to walk outside in your pajamas through a lobby filled with Campus Safety and volunteer firefighters, most of which are men?
Now, don't get me wrong. I understand the need for fire safety, and am very glad that Southern's residences are serious about fire safety. In fact, I welcome it, and I am elated that Thatcher South was emptied and checked in eight minutes (much better than our dorm counterpart, Thatcher). Maybe that was partially due to the unplanned drill last Thursday, but still. I am glad that the school has our safety in mind. However, my feelings don't really have much to do with fire drills. They're just a part of life in a dorm.
The real reason that I no longer truly need to live in the dorm (other than my crushing college student poverty) is that I don't need the deans or the RAs to look out for me and make sure that I'm not doing nefarious things after hours. I am no longer a high school student who needs to have lights out and an enforced study hour, and I am pretty sure that I am no longer a college student that needs to be tucked in at night. Why? Living in an apartment last year with Emily, Lorraine, and Megan is sort of what Southern Village is purportedly like. Granted, that would be minus the power fluctuations, uncertain water, mice and cockroaches, and plus a washer and dryer and kitchen. I learned skills last year that include cooking for myself--and if living in Southern Village decreased my school bill because I was providing myself with food, so be it. I'm all for making my debt less.
I did a lot of growing up last year. It's not saying that I was super-immature two years ago. I don't feel as if I was--I still valued sleep, did my homework, and abided by the rules. I've done that for a long time, and I'll continue to do so. It's just that I no longer need the external rules to guide my behavior, because my good behavior and good choices have been internalized. No one needs to track my dorm worships because I'd go whether they were tracked or not. I'd go to convocations whether they were required or not. I go to church and Sabbath School on the weekends because I want to, not because I've been reminded to leave the dorm. It's been a long time since I've seen an RA on Sabbath morning (I'm usually gone before they come). I try to manage my time wisely, get my homework done, socialize when I can. I've opened my own bank account, and I try to keep track of what I've spent where. No, I'm not perfect, but I am growing up. And part of growing up means becoming independent--even of the dormitory. Isn't that why I'm here at school? To grow up? Become an adult?
More later.
I am so over being a dorm student. I first arrived at the conclusion at the horrid hour of 1:15 AM last Thursday night, when I was awoken from blissful slumber to the shrill tones of an unplanned fire alarm. I slipped on my flip-flops, grabbed my glasses, ID card, and jacket, and headed out to the place I'm supposed to check in. (I'm glad I'd scouted out the place the day before, since until yesterday there hadn't been maps of the location.) We were speedily checked in and I was back in bed by two. However, when we were permitted to re-enter Thatcher South, the RAs (who were doing their jobs, bless them) kept shouting, "Go back to your own rooms, we're going to have check!" I was like, "Seriously? It's almost two in the morning. Where ELSE am I going to be? I want to be in bed, asleep." And that was the moment of truth (zen, Jon Stewart would say).
At worship, I sat behind Dean Mathis, who is the dean of Southern Village (which I did not know at the time). She asked me how my day was, and I replied, and then I brought the story about me realizing that I had matured past life as a dorm student, and she suggested that I try for Southern Village next semester. So today I tried to find more information, but of course the Housing office is closed. I'll keep trying until I get an answer. I want to try it, but only if it has a benefit for me.
The cementing of this first concept (about me and the dorm not being exactly compatible anymore) came last night, when we had a planned fire drill at 11:15 PM. I say "planned," but since it's verboten to let us residents know of such things, it came as quite a bit of shock. The reason it was annoying was because I'd gone to be the hour before because I NEEDED THE SLEEP. How is it that every time I go to bed decently early, we have a fire drill? And of course the RAs said the same exact things as we were going back into the dorm. Besides, how fun is it to walk outside in your pajamas through a lobby filled with Campus Safety and volunteer firefighters, most of which are men?
Now, don't get me wrong. I understand the need for fire safety, and am very glad that Southern's residences are serious about fire safety. In fact, I welcome it, and I am elated that Thatcher South was emptied and checked in eight minutes (much better than our dorm counterpart, Thatcher). Maybe that was partially due to the unplanned drill last Thursday, but still. I am glad that the school has our safety in mind. However, my feelings don't really have much to do with fire drills. They're just a part of life in a dorm.
The real reason that I no longer truly need to live in the dorm (other than my crushing college student poverty) is that I don't need the deans or the RAs to look out for me and make sure that I'm not doing nefarious things after hours. I am no longer a high school student who needs to have lights out and an enforced study hour, and I am pretty sure that I am no longer a college student that needs to be tucked in at night. Why? Living in an apartment last year with Emily, Lorraine, and Megan is sort of what Southern Village is purportedly like. Granted, that would be minus the power fluctuations, uncertain water, mice and cockroaches, and plus a washer and dryer and kitchen. I learned skills last year that include cooking for myself--and if living in Southern Village decreased my school bill because I was providing myself with food, so be it. I'm all for making my debt less.
I did a lot of growing up last year. It's not saying that I was super-immature two years ago. I don't feel as if I was--I still valued sleep, did my homework, and abided by the rules. I've done that for a long time, and I'll continue to do so. It's just that I no longer need the external rules to guide my behavior, because my good behavior and good choices have been internalized. No one needs to track my dorm worships because I'd go whether they were tracked or not. I'd go to convocations whether they were required or not. I go to church and Sabbath School on the weekends because I want to, not because I've been reminded to leave the dorm. It's been a long time since I've seen an RA on Sabbath morning (I'm usually gone before they come). I try to manage my time wisely, get my homework done, socialize when I can. I've opened my own bank account, and I try to keep track of what I've spent where. No, I'm not perfect, but I am growing up. And part of growing up means becoming independent--even of the dormitory. Isn't that why I'm here at school? To grow up? Become an adult?
More later.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Student Missions Re-Entry Retreat
9-13-09
Friday I went down to Cohutta Springs in Georgia for the SM Re-entry Retreat. I had a fantastic time! A friend of mine (who's done a lot more missions than I have) said it was mostly "an island get-together," but what can I say? The Pacific Islands are well represented among our returning SMs.
I had a suspicion beforehand that it was mainly for us to blab to each other, and I was correct. We split up into groups of three on Friday night, and each one of us was given fifteen minutes to talk. All of us thought that that was an extremely long time, but we each discovered that we were in the middle of a story when our fifteen minutes ended. The next day we spoke about difficulties and fun times and memorable times, and compared our experiences and viewpoints and feelings upon returning. We sang songs and ate meals together. At Friday night's dinner, one of the other groups (a leader from the group of retired church workers) decided to introduce our group and his group to each other--and then made his group clap for us. Me, I thought we should have clapped for them, but whatever. Another of my friends mentioned that "no one had appreciated him for his year of service like that." He thought it felt "weird." Maybe it was. Then again, he and I spent three hours talking about our various years.
I'm a Student Missions Club officer--the publishing coordinator, to be specific--and I am very excited about this upcoming year. You see, the club has a three-fold purpose: to support returned SMs, to support current SMs, and to recruit new SMs. And we have lots of little and big projects in the works that address all three. Sure, it's a volunteer position, but I'm glad to have been picked to fill it. This is going to be a fun year, I can feel it.
More later. I have to study for my first Statistics test.
Friday I went down to Cohutta Springs in Georgia for the SM Re-entry Retreat. I had a fantastic time! A friend of mine (who's done a lot more missions than I have) said it was mostly "an island get-together," but what can I say? The Pacific Islands are well represented among our returning SMs.
I had a suspicion beforehand that it was mainly for us to blab to each other, and I was correct. We split up into groups of three on Friday night, and each one of us was given fifteen minutes to talk. All of us thought that that was an extremely long time, but we each discovered that we were in the middle of a story when our fifteen minutes ended. The next day we spoke about difficulties and fun times and memorable times, and compared our experiences and viewpoints and feelings upon returning. We sang songs and ate meals together. At Friday night's dinner, one of the other groups (a leader from the group of retired church workers) decided to introduce our group and his group to each other--and then made his group clap for us. Me, I thought we should have clapped for them, but whatever. Another of my friends mentioned that "no one had appreciated him for his year of service like that." He thought it felt "weird." Maybe it was. Then again, he and I spent three hours talking about our various years.
I'm a Student Missions Club officer--the publishing coordinator, to be specific--and I am very excited about this upcoming year. You see, the club has a three-fold purpose: to support returned SMs, to support current SMs, and to recruit new SMs. And we have lots of little and big projects in the works that address all three. Sure, it's a volunteer position, but I'm glad to have been picked to fill it. This is going to be a fun year, I can feel it.
More later. I have to study for my first Statistics test.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Birthday Blessings
9-1-09
Birthday blessings are not unlike birthday buttons. (Ten points if you can tell me the very obscure reference.) They are wonderful.
As many people know, yesterday was my birthday. I could pontificate about how the day is in that month because Caesar Augustus wanted the same number of days in "his" month as Julius Caesar had in July--but I won't. In fact, I'd rather wax eloquent about how great my day was yesterday.
FIrst of all, I won a women's club (read: the dorm) drawing for a $25 gift card for Barnes and Noble. I found the card in my mailbox yesterday. That was exciting. Two, my parking permit FINALLY came. I'd ordered it on August 20th, and my temporary permit expired on Sunday. So I was worried. It came, and I was excited. Third, I got a present from a friend. [I wasn't expecting any gifts.] Fourth, my roommate and suitemates surprised me last night with balloons all over the floor, a cake, ice cream, and some presents. My dorm room floor still has the brightly colored balloons sitting on it. Plus, I was in a fantastic mood. Actually, I've been in a good mood for a good long while now. I have my moments, but on the whole, I'm a happier person than I was a year ago, or two years ago, or whatever.
I'm still in a fantastic mood, by the way. My class this morning was canceled (although I felt sort of bad, since it's because the professor's sick. He looked so exhausted, and I KNOW how that feels), and it's a blessing, too, even if it's no longer my birthday. Why? Because I've been feeling so rushed, so hurried, so busy, and this provides a chance to sit and do something for myself, even if it is just write a blog that probably no one reads.
I find myself not really liking the pace at which college students live. It bothers me that it seems that there's no time for people to build relationships of any sort, that it seems as if it's all work and homework and work and homework. There is so much to be done, but I shouldn't have to sacrifice IMPORTANT things for it. Does that make sense? Granted, this is probably the pace I lived at two years ago, before I went to Ebeye, but I'm not very sure that I like it now. Certainly I'm never going to love it.
But I'm still in a fantastic mood. :)
More later.
Birthday blessings are not unlike birthday buttons. (Ten points if you can tell me the very obscure reference.) They are wonderful.
As many people know, yesterday was my birthday. I could pontificate about how the day is in that month because Caesar Augustus wanted the same number of days in "his" month as Julius Caesar had in July--but I won't. In fact, I'd rather wax eloquent about how great my day was yesterday.
FIrst of all, I won a women's club (read: the dorm) drawing for a $25 gift card for Barnes and Noble. I found the card in my mailbox yesterday. That was exciting. Two, my parking permit FINALLY came. I'd ordered it on August 20th, and my temporary permit expired on Sunday. So I was worried. It came, and I was excited. Third, I got a present from a friend. [I wasn't expecting any gifts.] Fourth, my roommate and suitemates surprised me last night with balloons all over the floor, a cake, ice cream, and some presents. My dorm room floor still has the brightly colored balloons sitting on it. Plus, I was in a fantastic mood. Actually, I've been in a good mood for a good long while now. I have my moments, but on the whole, I'm a happier person than I was a year ago, or two years ago, or whatever.
I'm still in a fantastic mood, by the way. My class this morning was canceled (although I felt sort of bad, since it's because the professor's sick. He looked so exhausted, and I KNOW how that feels), and it's a blessing, too, even if it's no longer my birthday. Why? Because I've been feeling so rushed, so hurried, so busy, and this provides a chance to sit and do something for myself, even if it is just write a blog that probably no one reads.
I find myself not really liking the pace at which college students live. It bothers me that it seems that there's no time for people to build relationships of any sort, that it seems as if it's all work and homework and work and homework. There is so much to be done, but I shouldn't have to sacrifice IMPORTANT things for it. Does that make sense? Granted, this is probably the pace I lived at two years ago, before I went to Ebeye, but I'm not very sure that I like it now. Certainly I'm never going to love it.
But I'm still in a fantastic mood. :)
More later.
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