break.

This is going to be a weird list. I can't really think of how else to write this one.

1. Got home at 4:00 on Friday.
2. I've slept as much as I didn't sleep during finals week.
3. Last night was the first of Christmas gatherings. It was with my very best friends that will be a part of my life for as long as I can see into my future. I received some delicious Starbucks Caramel coffee and a mini French Press. We laughed our heads off and remembered all the way back to thirteen years ago. It was a beautiful night.
4. I am in the middle of the complete series of "Greek."
5. I'm watching the third series of "Gilmore Girls" thanks to Abigail.
6. I still need to buy all but four of my books for next semester.
7. I have to make finish the logistics for the May Term trip to England.
8. I get to see my mom's family on Christmas Day.
9. I get to see my dad's family a couple days later.
10. MY BROTHER AND SISTER-IN-LAW ARE COMING TO FORT WAYNE AT THE SAME TIME!!
11. The Second Annual New Year's Eve Progressive Dinner is happening, and I will not cut my leg while shaving this year.
12. I will come to the end of the year and I don't think I can cross anything off the list I made on January 2.
13. I'm okay with that.
14. I have been trying to read 1984 for a month. Of course, it's been the month leading up to finals, so I'm not feeling too bad about it.
15. I ended up with a B+ in Math and a B+ in Linguistics, an A in Speech, an A in Choir, and an A in Photography (even though the professor simply did not understand my final project). And I passed Lifelong Physical Awareness and Bowling.
16. I am going to set goals for the Spring semester, and I'm going to accomplish them.
17. I want to be like Lorelai Gilmore when I grow up, except for the failing love life, the bitterness toward my parents, and the teenage pregancy.
18. Lorelai Gilmore is eating takeout Chinese food, and it is making me very hungry.
19. I have stayed up too late for too many nights in a row.
20. I'm waking up at 10:30am.
21. Good night, dear readers.

Christmas List

Yeah, I'm going there.

1. external hard drive.
2. Adobe Photoshop Elements 9
3. iTunes gift cards
4. Amazon gift cards (for school books)
5. animals for families in third world and developing countries
6. a trip to Canada for Spring Break (itinerary, people to go with, transportation)
7. printer paper
8. Jelly Bellies
9. root beer and cream soda in glass bottles.
10. the full run of "Lost" on DVD
11. a minivan
12. padded case for a 15"-16" laptop


ummm...yeah.

winter has returned.

It has been snowing almost non-stop for two days. Sometimes it's almost completely white outside, other times is just a glittery mist, but it just keeps accumulating. And my heart is intermittently happy and disappointed and troubled.

I love snow. I think I always have.
When we lived in Goshen, playing in the snow was one of few activities my brother and I could do together without fighting. He could be the big brother and help me. He was able to build up small hills so we could sled in our front yard. I wanted to be just like him.

Now I appreciate the beauty of snow. In my mind, it's one of God's reminders that life goes on. This year will soon be over, another will begin, spring will come again. The death and darkness must seem victorious for a while, but that will make the new growth and rebirth all the more beautiful. After the seemingly unending winter in Northern Indiana last year, something I had forgotten about in all my years in Fort Wayne, the first glimpse of blue sky, the buds on the trees, the green grass, the return of the birds: they brought smiles to my face like they never did at home. Snow is awesome all on its own, though. It sparkles. It gives countless opportunities for fun and for pranks. It stays on my nose and eyelashes. It's millions of tiny little works of art.

I also find snow very romantic. It makes me lonely. I have spent one Christmas Day in a relationship. It was seventh grade. I wasn't the best girlfriend. I never have been, which is why I'm hesitant to actually get close to guys. He gave me a necklace and some candles for Christmas. We had only been "dating" for a couple weeks, so I wasn't expecting anything. I didn't give him anything. Not for Christmas or for Valentine's Day. He gave me a box of candy for Valentine's Day. He was probably the sweetest, funniest, kindest guy I've ever called my boyfriend. Now he's openly gay. I haven't talked to him in several years, but I think he's doing well.
The last time I was "dating" someone around Christmas, I got bored. I got sick of the guy. I was a jerk. I feel terribly about it. I think both of our lives would be very different if we had stayed together. But we didn't.
Now that it's cold outside and I hear all of the songs about being "snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be," I remember how I walk the snowy sidewalks on my own. No physical arm has ever been there to call my own and hold onto so I wouldn't fall on the ice. I don't want to hear all of the "you don't need a man, girl.," "Who needs men? They're all jerks anyway." or, "God will bring you a guy when it's the right time." (Seriously. If you write a comment like that, I will delete it. It will make me angry. I will dislike you for a while.) I have thought and prayed through all of this. Being single just doesn't seem to be the right thing for me now. Not because I don't like it, but because it just feels weird. It's a weird feeling I've had before. Unsettled, searching for more (not in the wrong places. I have searched and found in the Right Place and I'm not looking to replace that in any way.). I am experiencing a new kind of loneliness that I don't feel is wrong in any way. I just wish I knew some things for sure.

That's where I'm going to stop for tonight.

a second list.

Items I use every day, but don't really think about or appreciate.

1. Toilet: better than digging a hole.

2. Cups: better than using my hands.

3. Mirror.

4. Pillows and Blankets: I'd be stiff and cold every morning if I didn't have them.

5. Chairs: I love sitting on the floor, but sometimes the floor is too gross for even me.

6. Shoes: have you seen the TOMS videos about foot infections? I get that we have more accessible soap and water in this country, but I care about my foot health. Also, I really like shoes.

7. Trash cans: a great alternative to piles of garbage.

8. Bags, all kinds (purses, grocery bags, back packs, etc.) A person can only carry so much in her hands.

9. Pony tail holders: what else would I use to control my mane? Ribbons don't work well enough, rubber bands only rip my hair out.

10. Glasses/Contact Lenses: I really enjoy being able to see.

a list. the first in a series.

I just told someone that I was going to sleep. Because I have to be up to work out at 8:00 tomorrow morning.
At least it's the last workout, and I think it's another one with a partner.
It won't be too tragic.

I was wandering around Twitter and Tumblr, and I found a list someone made.
It was 10 things that she loved.

I was thinking the other day that I wanted to make a list of another group of things.
That one will come later.

Tonight, I'm going to share ten things that always make me smile.

1. Seeing an airplane at night.
1.1 Seeing my yellow Styrofoam airplane.

2. "The 12 Days of Christmas (Live)" by Straight No Chaser.
2.1. "Hey Santa!" as performed by Straight No Chaser

3. Remembering the freedom and joy and hope that I have in Jesus Christ.
3.1. Romans 8.

4. Bowling.

5. Sunrises and sunsets. I love that God always has new colors to show us.

6. TOMS shoes: the physical feeling, and the knowledge that I helped someone in need.
6.1 Seeing other people wearing TOMS, especially when we match.

7. The change of seasons: the first yellow leaf, looking out the window to see the first snowflakes, tulips and daffodils, and the beginning of the unbearable heat.

8. Dancing, especially car dancing.

9. Going home for the weekend after being at school for way too long.

10. Not knowing what the future holds, but knowing that God has it all planned out for me.

Okay, so it was actually more than ten.
Plenty of things make me smile.

Now I'm going to try to get about seven hours of sleep.

when did this change happen?

We used to be friends,

Now I struggle to keep eye contact with you.

And we've resorted to small talk, if anything.

I want us to be friends again.

And then I want us to be more than friends.

I dream about falling in love with you.

And I'm not talking about daydreams.

I'm talking about waking up with an ache in my heart,

Wishing I could go back to sleep.

Tonight, all I wanted to do was to talk to you.

I wanted to tell you all of this.

I wanted that so badly that it made me want to cry.

I miss the way you taught me.

I miss the way God used you to change my life.

I miss how comfortable I was with you.

But it's not quite right.

At least, not right now.

And maybe it will never happen.

But maybe I'll dream of you tonight.

And maybe it will come true.

being me.

I am not an athlete.
not by any stretch of the imagination.
So when I realized that I had registered for Lifelong Physical Awareness and hadn't really exercised all summer, I was a little freaked out.

During the first workout (9/2), I was regretting my summer laziness.
And I continued to regret it for the next several days.
I could not move without every part of my body crying out in pain.
But during class, I wanted to fit in and work hard and not let anyone down.
I was assuming that everyone was holding a stone, poised to throw it at me if I showed weakness.
(More about that later.)

On the following Tuesday or Wednesday, I rolled over in bed and felt something like a pop in my abdomen.
My abs had been hurting for a week, but this was different.
I was a little concerned.

When I got to class that Thursday, I tried to do a push up, and it felt like something was trying to push its way out of my abdomen.
I was seriously concerned now.
I told Coach Randolph, and, after jokingly asking me whether I was pregnant, he had me walk/run around the perimeter of the gym for the rest of the class.
I did my best.
I walked hard.
I felt it the next day.
The abdominal pain went away sometime over the weekend.

Last week, I had a pain in my neck, I was tired, I was feeling lazy.
I slept through class and worked out on my own time.
And I felt good about it.

Tonight, Dr. Ted Bryant spoke at Vespers.
He talked about how so many people at this college cling to being fake.
We cling to the image we want to create.
We cling to the idea that we must have it all together, and that we don't belong here if we make mistakes.
He dared us to be real.
He told us to try to be ourselves for one week.

He's so right.
I have a Pastor's Kid Complex.
For some reason, I think that everyone is waiting for me to screw up.
And I feel that if I show my flaws, it will reflect poorly on my dad.
I know that the people who would blame my problems on my parents have their own issues.
My mistakes are not my parents' fault.
My faults should not be seen as reflections of my dad's ability to help lead a church.
I know this.

But I have struggled to shake the imaginary pointed fingers and jeering grins.
I keep my mouth shut because I don't want to say anything wrong.
I don't want to look stupid.
I don't want to look weak.
I don't want to look like I don't have it all together.

I have hid behind a facade for the past several years.
Middle school was difficult for me.
I was awkward.
I wore strange outfits.
I didn't like to ask for passes to the bathroom, so I always bled through my pad and had to wear sweatshirts tied around my waist every time I was on my period.
I was a crier.
I tried to fit in and I learned tough lessons.

After I left middle school, I was determined to avoid situations that would give opportunities for ridicule.
This has continued for six years.
I have missed out on so much that has happened around me.
I hate that.

I hate that I assumed such awful things about everyone around me.
I hate that I projected my insecurities onto my friends, my family, my peers and classmates, my teachers, my directors, strangers on the street, and even onto God.
I forgot that He loved me anyway.
I ignored His promises.

But He never did.
He is teaching me more and more about His love.
He is showing me grace, and I am learning how to recognize and accept it.

And when I wake up in the morning, I will go to Lifelong Physical Awareness.
I will wear a yellow tank top, brightly colored plaid shorts, black leggings, and pink and black striped knee-high socks.
And I will be confident.

I am me.
I am discovering the woman I was created to be.
I will not conform any longer to the patterns of this world.

I will gasp for air, I will sit down, I will lag behind the other girls as we run around the gym.
And I will do these things with my head held high.
Because I have no reason to be ashamed.

Good night, readers.

Sept. 1

It's always a weird day for me.

My body knows what day it is, so it never wants to get out of bed.

Then something awesome happens, so I don't have time to think about what day it is.

A series of wonderful events occurs, and it's almost always a great day.

Until it's night time and I'm alone with time to think about what day it is.

And then I cry.

My sister died twenty-one years ago.

I didn't know her, of course.

If she had lived, I probably wouldn't exist.

But she's still my sister.

She will always be a part of who I am.

One of my biggest fears is that we won't all recognize each other when we get to Heaven.

I don't know all of what the Bible says, or how ambiguous it is about this subject.

I know that we will have resurrection bodies.

I hope and pray and beg that I will know my sister.

I know that if I don't know who she is, it won't matter.

But I want to know her.

I talk to her. I feel a little weird about it.

But I know I'm not the only one who talks to someone who has died.

I don't know whether or not she can hear me.

That's all I have for today.

the emotional pain of my latest piercing.

On my last night at home before returning to school, I was spending time with my "little brother."
We were walking around the mall and talking about tattoos.
I wanted another one.
I knew it wasn't a god idea, and I knew that my mother would kill me.
But I wanted another one.
Just for the sake of getting another tattoo.
I texted my friend Elizabeth, with whom I was going to be getting ice cream that evening, and asked her if she'd like to join us.
We picked her up and were on our way.
We got to the shop and I signed the paperwork and made a snap decision about what to get.
My internal conflict was a huge hint that being in that place was not a good idea.

As I sat and thought about what I was about to do, I considered my parents.
They would not be pleased with me.
We were all getting used to the ink on my foot, but something new, even in a place they wouldn't see, would mean serious discussion.

You see, I have never been good at keeping secrets from my parents.
I just can't do that.

I ended up deciding against the tattoo.
But I couldn't leave the shop without getting something done.
Pride. That's what it was about.
I opted for a piercing.
I would have loved to get my nose pierced, but I definitely couldn't hide that.
I am against getting my bellybutton pierced, because I sleep on my stomach.
I don't like any kind of lip or eyebrow piercing.
I needed something out of the ordinary.

I chose a spot on my right ear about halfway between my earlobe and my other cartilage piercing.
I knew through the whole process that I was making a mistake.
I was sinning.
I had the wrong attitude about all of it.
I was dishonoring my parents and therefore disobeying God.

But I did it anyway.

Hurt like nobody's business.
Worse than any of my other piercings.
About the same amount of pain as the tattoo, but a wider needle.
And it didn't stop hurting when the guy took his hands away.

I took Evan back to his car, and Liz and I went out to Jefferson Pointe to meet our friend Emily at Coldstone.
My ear was killing me, I was an emotional wreck, I felt ill.
I had just wasted money.

After we got our ice cream and sat and talked for a while, I knew I had to confess.
I changed my facebook status (lame, right?) and called my mom.

When I got home, my parents were not pleased.
We still needed to load the van with all of my school stuff.
(I had been driving it that evening, just like almost every evening all summer.)
I had disobeyed them.

We had a great talk about my attitude.

I chose to keep the earring in as a reminder to not be impulsive.
My ear still hurts and it's been really crusty.
So much so that I took out the hoop today and put in a stud for about an hour.
I put the hoop back in.
It's still healing, so I'm not surprised that it's been gross.
But it's super gross.

Yes, Mom, I'm keeping it clean. :-)

In happier news, I feel much better about the situation that led to my post the other night.

Good night, readers.
You are wonderful.

a blog for blog's sake.

I haven't really felt like writing lately.
I've started two posts, but haven't really gotten my thoughts straight, so I'm not going to finish them right now.

My first few days of my sophomore year have been pretty good.

Tonight was a little frustrating, because people just don't like to hear tough love.
It seems like no one I know will listen to reason.

We've all been through struggles.
Don't try to make it seem like yours have been worse than mine.
Don't tell me that I don't know what it's like.
Quit projecting. You're the one who's upset. I'm just sick of hearing about it.
You are not excused from turning the other cheek just because you've been slapped twice.
You don't get to lash out just because you were the one with the broken heart.

Just got done with a facebook chat with my mom.
Missing home more than I expected to.
My heart is so raw right now and I'm sitting here sobbing as I type.

Feeling a little lost tonight.
Please pray for me, readers.
I just don't know what to do.

I'm not Linda

"Grabill Missionary Church, this is Hope."

I'm only here this week, so I can't answer all of your questions.

I can tell you that Kelley Sewell is not here. He's in Belize right now.
And Sarah isn't here either.
I can try to connect you to one of the interns, but their office is in the basement, so I don't even know whether or not they're in the building.

No, Star is out for the rest of the day.
(That's why I answered the phone.)
And Linda isn't here, either.
(That's why I answered the phone.)
Yes, I can schedule you for a time for your directory photo.
There aren't any slots that are completely open, but no one is taking the full 15 minutes, so we can fit you in.

Yes, Jon is here.
He's my dad.
I'm Hope Swanson.

I am not Linda.
I can't give you all of the answers that she could.
And I'm sorry that Star isn't here to help.

Kelley is gone, Sarah is gone, Pastor Bill is gone, Lee is gone, Marsha is gone, Kim is gone, Linda is gone.
Right now, I'm the only person in the building.
I hear noises, and I expect someone to come around the corner, but it's just me.

And now I'm going to lock up and leave.

fingertips on fire.

I just started to learn/teach myself how to play the guitar. I've been playing the piano for almost 11 years, and I love it. But I figured it was time to be able to play an instrument that's a bit more portable.

A few weeks ago, my dad brought home a guitar. I think it's his. Last week, he had one of our Worship Pastors re-string it. The strings were about three years old and had rusted.

I've learned a few chords in the past week, but tonight I finally decided that I need to get serious about it. So I can play a G, an Em, a C, and a D. In that order. Very slowly. After about ten or twenty minutes, I had to quit.

My fingertips are on fire. The slightest touch causes pain. If you play guitar, I'm sure you know how this feels. It's not fun.

I'm frustrated with the guitar. It doesn't make sense. The piano, that makes sense. Chord progressions are in the same relative locations no matter what the key. On the guitar, it doesn't work that way. You have to change the length of the string to change the note. And you have to build the callouses. And you have to build finger strength. My ring finger is the worst right now.

I'll keep practicing and I'll keep posting about it.

Interlude (Beautiful Wedding)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3U2_wtKHL1I


This is a song I wrote last May. I performed it on Sunday at GMC's Music in the Park.

made worthy.

During our vacation to New Hampshire, I was able to sit outside and look at the stars. I stared at the sky for several minutes, and more and more stars became visible every second.

I once watched an episode of “Curious George,” in which George wanted to count all of the stars. He always fell asleep before he could finish the job. Even when he tried to mark his place using the Big Dipper, he couldn’t do it. There are more stars than anyone could count.

But “He counts the stars and calls them all by name” (Ps. 147:4). He holds them in His hand. And He holds me in His hand. People always talk about how small they feel when they look up at the stars and realize the enormity of the universe. But we don’t need to feel that way. God cherishes His children above everything else He created. “The LORD’s delight is in those who fear Him, those who put their hope in His unfailing love” (Ps. 147:11).

We often come to God and say how unworthy we are. I think that downplays God’s grace. He created us in His own image. He breathed life into mankind and made him “a little lower than God” (Ps. 8:5). Psalm 8 is actually a perfect passage to describe what I’m trying to say. It’s all about how big God is and how small we are and how He values us above everything. David marvels at the wonders of the night sky, just as I did that night.

God is so far beyond anything we could imagine, but He loves us. He made us to be worthy of His love. He chose to send His only son to die for us. It is so completely unfair of us to decide that we did not deserve that sacrifice.

I’m as guilty of this as anyone. I forget how much I am loved by my Heavenly Father. I verbally beat myself so much more than I should. I acknowledge that I’m a sinner and take it to the extreme, thinking myself worse than others.

We are all sinners. No one is better or worse than any other. But we are forgiven and are offered eternal life. It is our job to accept that gift and to live in such a way that is pleasing to God.

“You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had” (Phil. 2:5).

he's been a good dog.

I was five years old when Shiloh came home. We were still living in Goshen.
I hadn't had many good experiences with dogs in my early childhood, so I wasn't an instant fan of the one that was going to live with us. I warmed up to him after a few months, but I never really liked him.

While I was in my early teens, Shiloh would regularly get into my purses and strew their contents throughout the house. I often ranted about how much I hated him.

As I spent more time home alone, I ended up talking to Shiloh about everything. He's always been around.

Until this morning. We decided last Wednesday that the only logical choice would be to put Shiloh to sleep.
He's been deteriorating pretty rapidly for the past couple years. A series of ear infections left him deaf, he was going blind, arthritis in his hips made the stairs in our house difficult, and for the past six months Shiloh has become confused and disoriented. We're leaving tomorrow for a week-long vacation, and the cost of the vaccinations and boarding that would be required wouldn't be worth it. Waiting until August, when I leave for school, wouldn't have been a good idea, so Dad took him in today.

Logic doesn't make it easy, but I'm getting through it. I was a little upset this morning when I left the house. I always say "bye Shiloh" as I walk out the door, and when I realized that I couldn't do that anymore, I was disappointed. Our routines will change, our house will be quieter, our breathing might be easier, and our sleep will be uninterrupted. It was the right choice.

I'm working at my church this week and today is the first day of summer discipleship groups. Three of the girls from the senior high group came in just before 2:00, carrying Starbucks coffee and a box. "We brought something for you." Well, I was expecting the Starbucks, but the contents of the box were a surprise. Last night, the girls had found a kitten outside Ricker's. It was in a cardboard box. The box was marked "FREE." The word was written in lipstick. Sketchy, right? Well, that's the kitten's name. Her voice is hoarse, her teeth and claws are sharp, and she's she was sleeping quietly until the girls came back.

Okay, this is how I'm ending this one. I have to go run an errand.

am I nineteen or thirty-eight?

I am an Independent Sales Representative for AVON. (You can shop my online store here.)

I drive a white, 1997 Chevrolet Venture. It has a Fort Wayne Select Soccer sticker peeling off of the back window. The driver side window doesn't work.The air conditioning doesn't work.

While I drive said Soccer Mom Van, I often play a CD of Frank Sinatra music. I turn the volume up. I put down the window that works.

Sometimes I play one of my mix CDs. They include music by The Ready Set, Straight No Chaser, Owl City, and Michael Buble, plus a few songs from Glee and Fame. The volume is inappropriately high, and I sing at the top of my lungs (yes, I'm one of those people who sings when she's driving alone).

I totally want to be a soccer mom, and I'll be the proud owner of a Honda Odyssey. For now, I'll just confuse people.

am I twelve or nineteen?

I recently wrote out a Two Month Plan for getting the guy I like. A friend and I decided that one of our goals for the summer would be to end up with boyfriends, and we would do this by implementing Two Month Plans. Mine is very specific, albeit embarrassing, but easily accomplished.

However, I can’t do any of it if the guy doesn’t cooperate, and it is unfair for me to expect him to take part in my immature crusade. I’m nineteen years old, for crying out loud. I should know by now that these things don’t work. How many teenage romantic comedies have I seen? Answer: enough to know that my attempt will be futile. Oh, I know that the girl always gets the guy or the guy always gets the girl. But that’s the way it is in movies. That’s not real life.

As I place unreasonable expectations on this guy, I place the same expectations on God. Why should He follow my plan? I talk all the time about the importance of the opposite kind of following. Romantic relationships, though, have been my biggest power struggle. I want it to go my way. I have imagined each step of my plan, and it is wonderful. But who am I to decide what our future should be? I am no one. If we are to have a journey together, it will be our journey, not just mine. And if we do it the way we ought, it will be directed by God, not by us.

I must learn how to be content. As much as I want more, I must learn how to be satisfied with a friendship. Most importantly, I must seek God first. If I seek Him above all else, His will will be done. If a romantic relationship is His will for the next two months of my life, that’s awesome. If I’m going to stay single for the next 30 years, I know that He will teach me how to be more completely satisfied by Him.

The first and only item on my Two Month Plan must be to seek God and God alone.

Miracles.

I’ve been reading through the complete published works of C.S. Lewis this summer, and one of the books I’m working on right now is God in the Dock. It’s a collection of Lewis’ essays, articles, and interviews regarding theology.

In the section titled “Miracles,” Jack points out something excellent: “There is an activity of God displayed throughout creation, a wholesale activity let us say which men refuse to recognize. The miracles done by God incarnate, living as a man in Palestine, perform the very same things as this wholesale activity, but at a different speed and on a smaller scale…God creates the vine and teaches it to draw up water by its roots and, with the aid of the sun, to turn that water into a juice which will ferment and take on certain qualities. Thus every year, from Noah’s time till ours, God turns water into wine…But when Christ at Cana makes water into wine, the mask is off. The miracle has only half its effect if it only convinces us that Christ is God: it will have its full effect if whenever we see a vineyard or drink a glass of wine we remember that here works He who sat at the wedding party in Cana.”

He continues by talking about making “a little corn into much corn” and comparing it to Jesus feeding crowds with just a few loaves of bread and a few fish.

Humans of past ages attributed these activities to gods of wine and Corn Kings. Miracles, however, simply speed up the process. Miracles don’t necessarily defy the laws of nature; they simply defy our understanding of those laws.

I think of Nate Pelz. He was in a huge amount of pain and his life was in danger. The doctors, however, performed surgery and removed the tumor from Nate’s abdomen. The human body can heal itself. Blood clots to protect cuts, blisters form to cover irritated skin, antibodies attack infections. But Nate’s body wasn’t healing quickly, and surgery was the only logical choice in order to save his life. I do believe that God worked a miracle in that operating room, and that Nate is alive (and home) today because of God’s mighty hand. However, I don’t think that God did anything that completely abnormal or inconceivable. God chose to heal Nate through medicine.


I'm not great at conclusions. I never have been. So, this is the end of this post.

"what's the name of his other leg?" and other internet pet peeves.

1. "I know a man with a wooden leg named Smith." -from Disney's "Mary Poppins."
No. You know a man named Smith, who has a wooden leg.
I bet you all thought it was a joke. It's actually a commentary on one of the most frustrating grammatical errors: the misplaced modifier. "A misplaced modifier is a word, phrase, or clause that is improperly separated from the word it modifies / describes." -Margaret L. Benner


Simple fix? Reread what you just wrote. Does it make sense? Because you wrote it and you know what you meant to say, it probably does. So read it again. Make sure the adjective (word or phrase) describes what you want it to describe.
Here's an article from Grammar Girl on the subject.

2. This is a photo of Heather and William. If one of them had put it on facebook, they might have used the caption "Heather and I" or "William and I." This would have driven me crazy. If you can't figure out why, take the "Heather and" or the "William and" away from the rest of the phrase. You are left with "I." This is not an acceptable way of describing the subject of a photo. You would say "me." The correct caption, had either of these two wonderful people put this photo on facebook, would have been "Heather and me" or "William and me."




3. Someone commenting on this photo might think that it's (not its) adorable. He or she (not they) might say "awe! you guys are so cute!" Oh my word. NO! Not that they're not cute. It's just that "awe" means "an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, etc., produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful, or the like." (definition from Dictionary.com) The correct spelling of an exclamation of cuteness is "aww." Or "awwwwww." or "AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!" The length is up to the writer.


4. If you are going to make a complete sentence out of your facebook status, at least keep your subject/point of view consistent. An example of a bad facebook status: "Hope Elizabeth Swanson is hoping that I don't offend anyone with her new blog post." Who is this "I" to whom Hope is referring? Let's try to clarify, shall we? "Hope Elizabeth Swanson hopes that she doesn't offend anyone with her new blog post." or "Hope Elizabeth Swanson I hope I don't offend anyone with my new blog post." See how it didn't seem like I was hoping that facebook didn't offend anyone with my new blog post?

5. Apostrophes don't make things plural. Apostrophes show possession or they take the place of letters in a contraction. I hang out with my friends, not my friend's. I live at my parents' house. I don't have a boyfriend.

The above are simply matters of correct English. This post, as whiny as it may sound, is not entirely personal. It's about apparent intelligence (not actual intelligence, mind you. Facebook is a terrible source if you are trying to determine whether or not a person is intelligent.).

Well, I have C.S. Lewis to read. Eventually I'll get around to writing about it. By "eventually," I probably mean tomorrow. You can read about my journey with Jack at hopefulbooks.blogspot.com.

he still has to watch the director

A few months ago, my dad wrote about Dr. Reg Klopfenstein, a professor of instrumental music at Bethel. Now it's my turn to write about him.

On April 17 I went to the Spring Band Concert. Dr. Klopfenstein was playing timpani, I think. He knows how to do music. He knows how to do percussion. As I watched him play (he was in the center of my line of vision), I saw him look up at the director, Dr. Michael Kendall. As a musician, I appreciated this.

As talented and knowledgeable as Dr. Klopfenstein is, he still has to watch the director. He still needs to get the beat from someone.

I knew right away that this was going to turn into a post. That's the kind of person I have become since August. My dad does the same thing.

As I thought about what kind of post it would be, I realized that it was an easy metaphor. So here we go.

Do I really need to explain who is represented by each of the professors? I don't think so.

It doesn't matter who we are. It doesn't matter how many degrees in theology we have or how high we are in church leadership or how many people look up to us as spiritual people. We can't be content with textbook knowledge. We must continue to commune with the Director. We must look to Him for the beat of our lives. He knows exactly what the song is supposed to sound like. His arrangement is the best, the original. Better than any remix we could come up with.

a day in the life of this bridesmaid.

12:30am-Go to bed after a good day of decorating, a successful rehearsal at the outdoor location (Lakeside Rose Gardens), and a delicious dinner at Flat Top Grill.

9:00am-Wake up to discover that it's raining. Say a quick but earnest prayer that it goes away. Let the dog out, eat breakfast.

9:30am-Get dressed, straighten hair, drink some coffee.

10:10am-Bride and two other bridesmaids arrive. Go to nail salon. M.o.H., Bride's mom, and Aunt Kim are there. Sing songs from "Glee."

11:20am-Leave nail salon with hands lookin' good. Sing songs from "Glee." The rain has stopped.

11:30am-Arrive at Bagel Station for some food. Mom (mine) meets us there.

12:30pm-Leave Bagel Station, take Bride and M.o.H. home to get ready for their hair appointment, go to JoAnn Fabrics for cake knife and server. The sun has begun to shine.

1:15pm-Quick run to Target for some hair clips and heat protection spray (for hair).

1:30pm-Back home, get everything together.

2:00pm-Leave for Arts United Center to get ready.

2:15pm-Arrive at Arts United Center, greet photographer and two other bridesmaids.

2:20pm-Finish decorating.

2:30pm-Start styling hair. This will continue until 5:00pm.

3:00pm-Bride and M.o.H. arrive from the hair dresser with their mom. All are looking pretty snazzy.

3:18pm-Bride gets a phone call from the string quartet, advising her to move the wedding to the indoor location (at the Arts United Center). Bride talks to Groom. The decision is made to have an indoor wedding. Phone calls are made to family, friends, and the chair rental company.

3:30pm-Start applying makeup.

4:30pm-Indoor rehearsal. Yes, Bride and Groom saw each other before the ceremony.

5:00pm-Back to the dressing rooms to get dressed.

5:15pm-Walk out of dressing room to see Groom (Brother) and parents. Big hugs, pictures, tears.

5:40pm-Bridesmaids and Bride photos in the dressing room. Leave dressing room.

5:45pm-Bride and Groom, now both fully dressed, talk privately (with the photographer) about what to do about the limo and pictures.

6:05pm-Walk to the ceremony location.

6:10pm-String quartet gives the cue, walk down the stairs, take Alex's arm, and walk down the aisle.

6:12pm-Canon in D. Bride and her dad walk down the stairs. Outside the sun is shining, but the rain is pouring down. Thunder. Lots of tears.

Ceremony: Trading in one sibling for two. Life together takes on a different meaning. Dad (officiant) "With the power vested in me..." Groom "This is it!"

"Mr. and Mrs. Andrew and Allie Swanson."

Tears, smiles, take Alex's arm again and walk back down the aisle. Huddle with the wedding party. Hop in the limo for a quick spin around town.

Back to the AUC, pictures with grandparents, up the stairs to the reception. Not much of an entrance. Best Man announces Bride and Groom.

Find a table, get food, talk to family and friends. Best Man speech, M.o.H. speech, Bride and Groom speech, Alex speech. Finish eating, cake, more chatting with family and friends. Pictures, awkwardness.

Head outside with the bridal party and the parents for more pictures. Mosquitoes and fireflies.

The license gets signed, we all head out. Home, change, over to Marklands'. Awkward eye contact with an old friend.

12:30-Home. Sleep.

And that was my day as a bridesmaid.

my body isn't quite ready to shut down.

I am exhausted.

I was out last night until 12:30, which is later than I've been out in a few weeks. Didn't go to bed until maybe an hour later.

I got up at 10:00 today. Last night I figured out a schedule for cleaning my room.

I couldn't even stick to the first hour, which wasn't even cleaning.

I ate some pasta.

I ate some Sour Patch Kids and some Swedish Fish.

I drank some Arizona Sweet Tea and some coffee.

(I did make some progress on the cleaning.)

My body was whacked out tonight. I desperately needed protein, but I didn't have anything to eat before worship team practice. Nor did I take water with me. All I had was coffee. Needless to say, I was looking forward to going out after Next Level.

Of course, I got soda to drink. But the wings definitely did.

Watching the Lakers win did nothing to help. Boo. Not a fan of Kobe. Don't get me wrong, he's a talented ball player. I just don't want to watch him strut and swagger all over the place.

Unfortunately, the caffeine in my system is keeping me awake. I'm yawning up a storm, and I'm hoping that lying down will help.

On another note, God is really great.

Today's reasons for saying that:

1. Successful surgery for Nate Pelz!! The tumor is gone, and he'll be out of the hospital in a few days. Such an incredible answer to prayer. Read about Nate's Big Fight.

2. Progress on an actual friendship with someone I haven't quite figured out.

3. Good talk with Evan last night, plus Mythbusters Top 25 Countdown and a fixed necklace at Paul's house.

4. Renewed passion.

5. The high probability of a chat this weekend about China.

Okay. It's time to try to sleep.

P.S. My brother is married. I've got a post in the works about that.

Things I Learned During My First Year of College

I haven't written anything in quite a while. I guess I haven't really been doing much, so I haven't had a craving to write about my life. But I've realized some things that I learned over the course of two semesters of college and I'd like to share them.

1. So, you've been wanting for two years to participate in something. Don't automatically expect God to let you do it when you want to do it. I have been interested the PacRim Semester Abroad since I first heard about it. When I was majoring in Spanish, I couldn't really justify it. I would have been expected to go to the DR and I don't think I could have fit all of my classes. Once I dropped that major, I realized that I could to the PacRim trip. I was thrilled. I decided that if the musical next spring wasn't "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat," I was going to do the trip. The musical is "Cinderella." Here's the problem with this: I made the decision. I was interested in the trip. Why? Because who wouldn't want to go to New Zealand, Australia, and China? *buzzer noise* Wrong answer. I should have wanted to go on the trip because I could feel God leading me there. At the moment, I have doubts about the trip. But I also have doubts about my doubts, so it's going to take a lot more praying and a conversation with a friend who has already said that he would try to talk me into the trip. I might still do the trip next spring, I might just be postponing it, or I might not do it at all. I am certain that God will call me to some sort of overseas travels during my college years. And I am certain that I will have no doubts about His call.

2. Just because you are in the FYE Block that is known for producing couples, don't expect to be half of one of those couples by the end of your freshman year. In the 16 years that Brother Tim and Maralee have been teaching Block 3, there have been something like 17 marriages and over 20 grandchildren. That is something that we learned in our very first meeting as a Block. And I'm sure I'm not the only one who looked around the room and wondered who I might end up with. I didn't end up with anyone. And that's okay. There have been hundreds of students through Block 3 in 16 years. And less than 40 of them have ended up together. I don't have to be one of them.

3. Don't decide that you're going to meet your future spouse during your freshman year. And when you meet someone you think is pretty awesome, give it some time before you start dating. Get to know how the person behaves in lots of situations. Of course, I didn't date, or almost date, anyone this year. Which was totally fine. And please, I beg of you, don't say "oh, we're not dating" while you're holding hands and making out all over the place. That's just not pleasant.

4. LEARN HOW TO GET YOUR WORK DONE BEFORE 3:00 IN THE MORNING, she says as  she's writing at 4:30. (I started writing this the other day.) I ended up in the hallway in the wee hours of the morning far too often. And it always came back around. Sleep is important. Sure, 12:00 will start to seem early. But when no one else's iTunes library is available and you have watched the list of people on facebook chat dwindle to four or five, you start to feel all alone in the world. That is not a good feeling. Your friends will understand if you don't say yes to hanging out every time. They have homework, too.

5. God really does have a great plan for your life. You just need to let Him take control. You don't actually have any control; you're just trying to have it. We ask God for His will to be done in our lives, all the while having an idea of what His will should be. We think that God's will for us will always be comfortable. That's just not going to happen. If God's will was always comfortable, we wouldn't know much of anything about the Waodani (Auca) tribe. Those five men wouldn't have been killed as they tried to make a connection with the natives. (I watched "End of the Spear" and "Beyond the Gates of Spendor" last month. It's a beautiful story.)


This list is far from exhaustive. I'm sure I will add to it as the summer goes on. And I'm hoping that I will have more to write about. I'm pretty sure that I will.

Buenas noches.

maybe not 10:30.

But certainly 11:30, at the latest.

I have finished the revision process.
I need to write introductions to both of the portfolios.
One of them is mostly done, and I need to go back to my room to get the instructions for the other.

But I'm in pretty good shape.
I'm not feeling frantic or rushed.
Personal deadlines are a good motivator.

The promise of a nap after I finish all of this is also a good motivator.
As is the plan to go to Chipotle tonight!!


I don't think I ever mentioned that I had been seeing the ghost of Greg Fox during the past month.
It seemed like every other day I would see someone who looked like him.
But then I would remind myself that Greg was at Oxford.

I walked into SG this morning and he was one of the first things I noticed.
The real Greg Fox, returned to North America.

Of course, I have never actually spoken to him in my life, so it would be weird for me to welcome him back and ask him about his semester, right.
Yes, it would. So I'm not saying anything.

And I'm working on this portfolio stuff, and he's talking to Chester.
So it would be very, very strange.

But, if by some unexpected stumbling you, Greg, find this post, I welcome you home.
And I really would enjoy hearing about your semester at Oxford.

Of course, I could just read your blog.

Now, back to my normal, not awkward at all writing.

revising.

for at least one of my LIT227 essays it has turned into a rewrite, adding a secondary source and restructuring the argument with a clear thesis.

I'm sitting in the hallway, waiting for the caffeine to kick in and for the words to flow.
I'll probably make coffee in about half an hour.

and I'm planning to stay up until I can get into the computer lab to print everything and put it all together.
I want to turn these things in by 10:30.

This is what I get for not following my schedule.
I wrote out what I was going to do for every day last week.
I had "revise essay" on there about five times, and I didn't do it at all.
So now it's Sunday night (Monday morning), the portfolios are due at noon (nine hours), and I have no desire to write.

Two and a half left: Illegal Immigration for PHIL150, and "The Torment of the Dream" and "Odysseus' Women" for LIT227. I'd say it's going pretty well. I've got some mint tea, some Landon Pigg, and my favorite laundry room smell.

that's all for now.

I can't solve your problems.

[This is going to be a thinly-veiled, completely selfish rant.]

Two of my friends just started dating.

I have been waiting for them to date for months.

They're pretty great together.

Several weeks ago, the guy dated another friend of mine.

He broke up with her, and I've heard her side of the story several times.

She never got over him.

She came to my room about an hour ago, upset that the guy started dating someone else.

She was hurt, and I understand that.

But I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

For the past couple of weeks, I have invested hours in this girl's life.

I have listened to her complaints of heartache.

But, quite frankly, I'm sick of it.

She is still in love with the boyfriend who broke up with her last fall.

She wouldn't admit it, but it's far too obvious.

Almost every conversation we have ends up being about her.
I can start telling a story about my life, and it always comes around to her love life.

I prefaced this by saying that I was going to be selfish, so I don't care how this sounds:

I just want to talk about me sometimes, maybe for like, two minutes.

Granted, she did listen to me tell two stories tonight, without interjecting.

I appreciated that.

But she seemed bored, like she didn't want to be listening.

And they were very good stories.

I climbed through a window at a professor's house yesterday.

(We had permission to be there, but the key didn't work.

And we really needed to get stuff from his basement.)

I love this girl like a sister.

I care about her.

But I don't want to listen to her talk about this anymore.

I've heard it and I understand and I've tried to empathize.

But because I've never been through it before, she won't listen to me when I tell her she needs to let it go.

She's just sick of being hurt and lied to.

"People will let you down," I tell her.

She doesn't get that I have been let down.

Just because I haven't had my heart broken in the way that she has, I'm not completely ignorant.

I don't know what she expects me to do for her.

I can't take all of her problems, in addition to my own.

God alone can fully understand, and I am clearly not God.

That's how I'm feeling right now: frustrated, annoyed, selfish, and helpless.

my birthday: the way I see it.

it's not that exciting.

Cassie made a big deal about it in psych today and everybody sang to me.
And I just sat there, not knowing what to do.
it seemed like everyone was more excited than I was.

I don't feel different.
I don't feel older.
it's pretty much just a Tuesday.

it's not even a good Tuesday.
I stayed up late last night, trying to finish reading a book for world lit.
then I got up early to meet with my advisor.
I tried again to finish the book.
it's my project for the afternoon.

yep. I'm going to spend my birthday reading a book that doesn't interest me.
I think that once I get into it, I might enjoy it, but as it is, I feel defeated.
my birthday doesn't mean that I get a break from life.

maybe today means something more to the people who remember that hot Saturday.
because I don't, it's just the day that marks another 365 and 1/4 rotations of the planet.

so, it's April 6, 2010.
I was born 19 years ago.

hooray.

(but happy birthday to Landon and Kris and Emma and Alex and Natalie and Matt Kitsos' wife and everyone else who is celebrating one more trip around the sun. I hope you all don't have such a bad attitude about today.)

birthdays and facebook.

My birthday is a week from tomorrow
And I keep forgetting about it.

No one is around to remind me of it, so there isn't the excitement that there usually is.
I won't be with my family on my birthday this year.
I probably won't even be on the same continent as my family next year.

For some people, this is normal.
For me, it's one more first of college life.
I don't think I like the number of things that I have to get used to.
And then it will all change again.

I don't like that facebook is the way we know about people's birthdays anymore.
I remember the days when we actually had to remember these details about our friends' lives.
But facebook cannot be trusted. Rather, tricky facebook users cannot always be trusted.
People enter incorrect birthdays all the time.
I've been engaged on facebook more than once, and it was "complicated" with a friend of mine over the summer.
Some of our friends actually thought we were together.

I hate facebook. I don't like what it has become.
I don't like that anyone with an e-mail address can join.
I don't like that fan pages exist for everything under the sun.
There are fan pages about hating fan pages. Come on. Really?
I have been on facebook once in the past week, and only then because I thought I might have gotten an important message.
Yes, I have missed birthdays, and I apologize for that.
But I remembered birthdays, too.
Because I cared enough, because I was reminded, because it mattered.

I have eight days left of being 18.
Then I enter two years of awkward, in-between ages.
19 is the age of high school sophomores' too-old boyfriends.
20 is just weird.
But I'll be stuck with them.

And now it's time to go to Logic class.
What a joyous moment.

a six hour nap and not doing Agape.

This morning, the Bethel Women's Chorale performed at College Park Missionary Church.
They gave us lunch and I ate more than I should have. But it was delicious, so I don't really care.

Jamie and I got back to the room, changed out of our dresses, and climbed into our beds.
James got up around 2:00 to go to the Spanish service at College Park.
I slept.
I woke up to go to the bathroom.
My abdomen (This is where I give my mother that look. She knows what it means. And I'm sure you can figure it out.) was killing me, and I thought a hot shower would help.
It didn't.
I went back to bed.
I was going to get up at 6:00 so I could do homework before leading Agape Fire tonight.
(Which is supposed to start six minutes from when I'm typing this.)
My alarm went off, I quieted it and went back to sleep.
Mom texted me around 7:30, I think, asking me how I was doing.
We talked for a while, and I read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
Then I decided that it was probably time to get up, eat something, put on some real clothes (as opposed to sweats) and do some homework.
I'm not really feeling much better, not well enough to walk across campus so I decided not to do Agape.
So not I sit in the Great Room, still not doing the homework that Dr. Stump is so graciously allowing me to turn in late.
It will get done, even though I don't really understand what's going on.
("This is what office hours are for, Swanson." "I know, I know.")

Also, I'm having a serious craving for Chinese food.

cute couples.

this is not going to go where you think it's going.
And, of course, it started in my World Lit class today.


I love watching couples. What I really love about it is pointing out how two people really don't go together.
Sometimes, one person is really attractive and the other is mediocre at best.
Sometimes they just aren't cute together. Like, they interact awkwardly, or they don't look good together.
My least favorite couples are the ones that aren't balanced. Like, she likes him a lot more than he likes her. It's not fair to anyone if one person is doing all the work and is carrying the other.


I have talked about my rings in the past. The Rock reminds me of what is to come after this life.


In class today we talked about "The Overcoat," by Nikolai Gogol. (This is not the translation we read.) The main character, Akaky, needs a new overcoat. The one he currently owns is worn out, tattered, and not attractive. Akaky goes to the tailor and is told that he must buy a new coat. The two characters decide on a price and Akaky decides that he has something to work for. The idea of the coat gives his life a purpose.


Robby had us talk about this idea of looking forward to something, being focused on a goal, and making everything you do about achieving that goal.


I talked about my ring, about mismatched couples, about being a worthy bride.
I don't want to be an ugly bride, standing next to the beautiful Bridegroom.
I want people to look at my life and think "yeah, she and Jesus look good together."
That's a weird image, I know. What I mean is, I don't want it to seem like Jesus is doing all the work. Yes, Jesus saved my life. I can't do anything that comes even close to that. But I can give my life to him.
I can live in the way he described when he walked this earth.


"His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires."


Peter wrote before there was a New Testament. "Everything we need" did not include the Bible that we have today. These people had the Old Testament and some guys who wrote them letters. Most importantly, they had the Holy Spirit. Yes, Scripture is very important. But if you are listening for the Holy Spirit and are willing to let God's will take hold of your life, He will direct you in His ways. He won't tell you anything that is in conflict with His word. It is important to know Scripture so that you can be sure that what you are hearing is from God.

This is starting to stray from my original point.

I want to be a worthy bride for Christ.
To do this, I must live as he wants me to.

Marilynn Ham and my sister.

Marilynn Ham, piano professor and Artist-in-Residence, music arranger and composer, and delightful woman came to my Perspectives in Fine Arts class on Wednesday to share her talent with us. One of the pieces she played for us was her arrangement of "He's Got The Whole World." She got to a section that I can only assume was the verse about the "little, tiny babies." It was very much like a lullaby. I began thinking about the lyrics and about my sister Kathryn.

My sister died two years before I was born. She had a genetic disorder called Trisomy 18 Syndrome. She lived for five weeks during the summer of 1989 and died in my dad's arms.

"He's got the little, tiny babies in His hands."

As I thought about this, about how true it is, and how well my parents understood it, tears came to my eyes.
I tried to not let them spill over because I thought that might make my professor ask me to share with the class. If I started talking, I'd start crying and it would be a big mess and I'd be embarrassed to go to that class ever again.

As she was being formed in our mother's womb, as her tiny body was affected by her disease, as she fought for life every day, God held my sister in His hands.

I usually think of Kate as my baby sister. The only pictures of her that exist are of an infant girl. But my sister would be twenty years old.

I don't know how we will look or what age we will seem when we get to Heaven. I'm sure my sister will not be a baby for Eternity. I hope I will recognize her when I see her.

Now, I should probably stop sitting in a metal chair while a thunderstorm rolls into town.

a very short "in one week" post.

in one week, I will be in my own bed.
I will probably not be awake.

and that will be lovely.

my favorite study group.

every few weeks I have a psychology test.
and before that test, I meet with my study group.

a brief introduction to the group, in alphabetical order by first name:

Alex Cox
-HATES that he has to take this class, and therefore put it off until his final semester.
-often shares anecdotes about his world travels.
-LOVES world football. because "soccer" is such an American word.
-attacked my facebook and phone tonight.
-didn't eat any of my delicious orange-chocolate cake tonight?

Calvin Hirschy
-is a philosophy and math double major. that describes him fairly well.
-is perfectly content to sit in the library studying for hours.
-plays the piano quite well.
-is a quiet antagonist.
-could ruin your social life if you let him.
-attacked Cassie's facebook and phone tonight.
-always eats my baked goods.

Cassie Eberly
-is pro-chivalry. like, pretty much the opposite of my views.
-actually has a tutor for the class, and shares her studying with the rest of us.
-flung a blob of cake and frosting at me, aiming for my mouth, and hit me square in the chest. from seven feet away. we all nearly died of laughter.
-very much wanted to frost the cake perfectly. unfortunately, the cake was not cooperating.
-hates everything I do. :-)

Hope Swanson
-sings only slightly less often than Alex.
-baked a wonderful orange-chocolate cake tonight, that was not enjoyed by everyone.
-was somewhat disappointed.
-"has officially been frosted by Cassie Eberly and is looking quite stunning as a fruitcake. Great study times. Woohoo!!!"
-watched as Alex wrote the above statement as her facebook status.
-learns from the things Study Group laughs at, more than what is discussed.

Kevin Engel
-is an art major, changed from math education.
-IS ALWAYS DOODLING OR MAKING FLOWERS OUT OF CHIP BAGS OR DOING SOME OTHER ARTISTIC THING.
-sure does know how to kill a joke. and he's proud of it.

There are more things I could say about everyone, but for the sake of this post, this is all that really matters.

Tonight Cassie and I had dinner together at 7 and then she left and I was going to write.
Or bake cupcakes. No, I don't have any cupcake tin liners.
Maybe I'll make Surprise Meringues. No, I don't have nearly enough time for that.
Maybe I'll try to make cupcakes without the liners. No, I'll make a cake.
No, I'll just have everyone come over here so I can make the meringues.
I'll just make a cake and sneak it into the library. Ooo!!! An orange-chocolate cake!!
Wait, the RAs are all in their meeting. I guess I'll just go over to the library.
(It is now 9:00.)
Calvin and I got to the library and found Kevin already there. We decided that we should meet in the kitchen so I could make my cake.
I texted Alex and Cassie and let them know.
Got back to Sailor, had Julie open the kitchen for us.
I preheated the oven, mixed the cake, and got it on its way to baked deliciousness.
(It is now around 9:30.)
We all talked and sang about "Moulin Rouge," life, psychology, music, sex, and everything in between.
Half an hour later, the cake was finished.
We kept talking about everything.
My timeline is a little sketchy for the rest of this.
I think after about 20 minutes Cassie sent me to get frosting. I brought it back and she tried to frost the cake. The frosting had been in the fridge and, even though it was the whipped kind, it didn't spread very well. The top of the cake came off with the frosting.
Cassie pretended that she was going to fling it at me, and I decided that she should try to get it into my mouth.
FAILURE!!
We got all the guys to watch, the spatula went back, forward, the frosting flew off and hit me, as I said before, square in the chest.
Funniest thing that's happened in a while. Hardest I've genuinely laughed in weeks, I think.
Cassie, Kevin and I were all on the floor.
Calvin and Alex, who had been focused on "Linus and Lucy," were both consumed with laughter.
It was wonderful.

We got back to an almost-focused state.
Then Cassie heard "Phantom of the Opera" coming from the workout room.
It was ice dancing.
We went to watch, letting the door closed behind us.
Not a wise decision.
The number finished and I went to go get more cake.
The door was locked.
Alex was sitting at my computer.
I ran around to the other door only to find that it, too was locked.
He was on my facebook, and I could only assume that Calvin, who was at Cassie's computer, was on hers.
My status was being changed and I was joining groups and I couldn't do anything about it.
I walked away for about a minute and returned to the window. This time they had our phones.
This is always terrifying for me.
Thankfully, the guy RAs were all leaving the office, so I had Lucas unlock the door.
"There's a whole bunch of people in there."
"I know, and they won't let us in."
As soon as I walked in the door, Alex, who was trying to send a message, more or less ran away from me.
I went to open the door for Cassie and we both began to do damage control.
I got my phone back just in time to cancel the message he was trying to send to my friend Dave.
It was an almost risque picture of Calvin with the text "best thing ever."
That I had canceled the message was a great disappointment to our antagonists.
(Oh dear, I'm getting tired. The big words and complicated structure are going to get worse if I don't stop soon.)
At this point (getting close to 12:00), most hope of actually studying was gone.
We discussed a few more points, listened to more music, threw some chocolate around, and didn't eat cake.

So, we have a great night to remember while we're taking our test in less than 12 hours.
Hopefully we'll remember what little psychology we actually talked about.
(Which was probably more than I think we give ourselves credit for.)

Now I have to read Cantos IV-X and do a worksheet for 11:00.

Dear Everything Bagel,
I know that you are enjoying your time in the cooler at Sufficient Grounds.
I'm sure that it's a very nice place for you.
However, I am looking forward to eating you in about seven hours.
Get excited about being sliced, toasted, and covered with cream cheese.
Love,
Hope

Please forgive any errors in this post, whether factual or grammatical. I'm sleep-deprived.

Good night.

just call me Amanda Woods.

I'm not good at expressing emotions.
Or, to put a positive spin on it, I'm wonderful at putting up a completely blank face.
I can show happiness and excitement very easily, but when it comes to being sad or angry or frustrated or annoyed, I hold everything inside. I use words all the time to express my frustration, but what I say often completely lacks true emotions. I let the sadness and frustration build up inside of me for months.
Until I let myself become sleep-deprived. Working a show is good for that.

Allow me to back up and explain a little bit.
Through elementary and middle school, I was the one who cried about everything. I was the sensitive, emotional, wimpy, etc. girl.
When I got to high school, I didn't want that reputation anymore. I started hiding everything. I still felt the emotions, but I rarely cried.

Through my sin struggle between sophomore and senior years, I withdrew even more. No one really knew much of anything about me. At CDYC last summer, I was able to talk to my small group leader about the struggle I had been hiding, and have been able to talk about it more since then. I'm overall more open about things now.

But I hate being comforted, so I am careful about the amount of upset feelings I show. It has become a struggle to truly show my emotions. I can describe my feelings quite well, but when it comes to having outward emotional reactions, I feel almost like a failure.

In the past couple of weeks, a lot of things have gone wrong. Nothing too major, but it's been building. I haven't been able to really process it and let it all go, not that I do that very well anyway. I have been feeling a little off and frustrated and emotional lately. A couple days ago, I realized that I hadn't cried, really cried, since Christmas Break. I know that there are other causes behind my weird feelings of late, but I'm pretty sure most of it has been coming from my inability to release my feelings in a healthy way. I've noticed myself becoming more irritable and withdrawn in the past week, and that bothered me. I hate lashing out at people.

Last night, I wanted desperately to cry. I tried everything from listening to The Fray to reenacting the scene from "The Holiday" in which Cameron Diaz's character is trying to make herself cry. I needed something to remind me that I am a human and am capable of experiencing and displaying emotion. I was so close. I could feel it in my face. But the tears never came.

I was frustrated about it today.

I have a psychology test on Tuesday and my study group was planning to meet tonight. I decided that I wanted to feel good about myself when we sat down to work. I was looking nice and was getting ready to go.

Then, my daddy texted me. He asked if I was doing ok.
I said that I was great, other than waiting for something to push me over the edge so I could cry.
About a minute later, he called me.
That was enough to make the tears come. What a relief!!
(Thanks, Daddy.)

After we hung up, I though about having to walk over to the library. I hate wearing coats, but the outfit I was wearing would have required one. So I decided to change, choosing comfort over looking good. I walked out of my room to head to the library, I felt wonderful. I could breathe easily again. I wasn't feeling like I needed to hide anything. I was able to enjoy spending time with my study group, even though we spent most of the time talking about not-psychology. We had a great time talking about everything from world football (because "'soccer' is such an American word") to "stop-smoking rubber bands" vs. stop smoking rubber bands to what kind of parents we will be. And I only got genuinely frustrated once. And I didn't hide it.

I think we all just need to cry sometimes.

breakfast with Carl Orff

I'm listening to Carl Orff's Carmina Burana as I sit at my little table.
I have to keep myself from laughing out loud at the man's creativity (and the humor of the text: it's pretty much about drinking and sex),
it's the recording from 2006 when Heartland Chamber Chorale, the South Bend Chamber Singers, and the Fort Wayne Children's Choir collaborated to perform the work at various venues around Northern Indiana.
(I was in the Children's Choir.)
Since I don't have any homework that I need to be doing right now, I'm reading the translation.
from "Floret silva nobilis:"

Ubi est antiquus	Where is the lover
meus amicus?	I knew? Ah!
Hinc equitavit,	He has ridden off!
eia, quis me amabit?	Oh! Who will love me? Ah!

Because I've always had the German/Latin text in front of me, I've never really paid any attention to the translation and how the music helps to paint the picture.
In this section of the song, the women sing the first two lines, then the music changes and sounds like a riding song as the men sing "Hinc, hinc, hinc...equitavit...tavit, tavit..." and fade out. Like the lover riding off.
Then the women come back in, clearly distraught.

I had never noticed that.

I am falling in love with this work all over again.

I'm just doing my job.

I was on props crew for "Jane Eyre" this weekend.

I was regularly thanked for what I was doing and told that I was doing a great job. This confused me. I was simply doing what I was supposed to do. I was just doing my job.
I don't handle being thanked very well. I just don't ever know what to say. I usually just laughed and said said "oh, no problem. you're doing great, too." Which was most definitely a true statement. I don't think there was anyone who wasn't doing well during this show.

I'm glad to be appreciated and acknowledged, but I feel like I shouldn't be thanked so often.
I'm just doing my job.

Then I stop to think of it as an actress.
I know how important prop people are.
I value them. I appreciate them.
I know that they make my job easier.

I think of it from the perspective of Werby, my ASM.
She has enough to think about without having to deal with getting everyone's props ready.
I help her.

As a prop girl, I do everything I can to make others happy.
I try to reduce their stress.
I often had props prepared several scenes before they were needed.
I hope this was helpful.

I love working backstage. It gives me perspective.
Not as an actor, because there has never been a time when I didn't work both sides of the curtain, but as an audience member.
I go to productions and see how flawless things are, and I can pretend that it just happens that way.
Or I can think about how much work is happening in places I can't see.
I can think about the people dressed in black, on their toes, ready to move set pieces or hand props to actors or help with quick costume changes.
I know that productions take a lot of hard work.
I know that everyone in the playbill has an important job, and that each of those jobs is necessary for the success of the show.
I can't pretend that productions put themselves together.

So, I know that what I did was important and helpful. I know that I did good work.
I know that someone else could have done my job just as well as I did, but I'm glad it was me.

I'm glad I got to work with such wonderful people.
It was a great show.

And in 38 days (yeah, it's 38 days), we will put on another great show.

a week has come and gone.

last night was the final performance of "Jane Eyre."
we took down the set, put props and costumes away, set up the pit platform, and picked up the spike tape.
around 1:30, we headed over to Tradewinds and Ian and Jon got to know the caffeinated and sleep-deprived version of me. the one who puts spike tape on her face and goes through phases of energy. one minute I was laughing way too loudly, and the next I was silent. the next minute we were talking seriously about literature. so great. probably the best after-show meal I've had.
it was a great run. I'm incredibly proud to have been a part of this production.

as much as I complained about the story line, the story of the show and the message that rang in my heart as Asha's voice rang through the auditorium is one of forgiveness. I'm not sure that I would have been able to forgive Edward, but I love that Jane can. And I know that that kind of forgiveness is what we are called to as Christians. So, I guess I should try to offer as much grace as I am given every day.

it was so great to see my parents on Friday.
we went out to lunch at Famous Dave's and did some shopping at Super Target.
Dad turned in one of my essays for World Lit, and Mama and I went shopping again.
I really miss shopping with my mom.
I really miss my parents in general.

right before I saw my parents, I got the Save The Date card for my brother's wedding.
oh. my. word. I was SO excited!!!!
I can't wait. I LOVE weddings, and this one has been a long time coming.

and now I sit in The Acorn. not my usual writing location, but SG is closed on Sundays and I just can't do anything productive in my room.

in one week.

I will try not to cry as I write this.

"Jane Eyre" is next weekend.
my parents are coming to the performance on Friday night.
since I don't have classes on Fridays, I will get to spend some time with them before the show.
my mom told me that she's taking me shopping.
I'm really excited.
I haven't seen my family since break, and I won't be going home until Spring Break.
for some people (i.e. the international students) this is normal, and it's a little unfair for me to say this.
but I'm used to seeing my family all the time.
I miss them.
so, one week from today, I will be with my parents.

I have a lot to do before then.
in one hour I will be at dry tech rehearsal. "All scene changes, all the time."
tomorrow is wet tech. we will be rehearsing for most of the day.
then I think I'm going to several Burger Kings to obtain crowns.
Sunday I have church, babysitting, Agape Fire, and watching a movie with a friend.
more rehearsals next week, the show opens on Thursday morning for the home schools.
shows Thursday night, Friday night, Saturday afternoon, and Saturday night.
strike until late.
then I will need sleep. badly.

but the show isn't the only thing going on in my life.
I still have classes next week and, unlike high school, I can't coast in college.
rehearsals happen later here, and because of my schedule and time management failure, I end up awake at 2:00 in the morning reading for my literature class.
I think I'm expected to read all of Till We Have Faces by Thursday in class.
but I have to be at the show during that class.
I feel like I can't win.
I just want it to be one week from now.

if I weren't a theatre person, I think it would be worse.
I was an English Ed major when I scheduled my classes, and I needed a media lab.
Drama Production was the only one that would fit.
when I switched, I could have dropped the class, but I was already dropping Ed Ped (smirk. Ed Ped.)
I'm the only non-theatre major or minor in the class, and on the first day no one knew what to do with me.
I said "I'm a theatre person, I understand."
as I go to rehearsals, I realize how true that is.
I love this stress and busyness.
I love watching as the actors and directors and stage managers (I'm going to throw the ASMs and props mistress into this category) work together to make this show as good as it can be.
I love the way everyone is coming together and realizing that they have six days to get this ready for an audience.
I don't know that a non-theatre person (someone who doesn't have theatre experience or someone who doesn't enjoy theatre) could stand this.

I might get frustrated.
I might snap at people who don't deserve it.
I might actually end up punching Nate/Alex in the face.
(I hope that doesn't happen, but they're doing well enough at the role that I've been getting genuinely upset.)
but I will persevere.
because I get to see my parents in one week.

"My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness."

a future full of doing what I love.

I know, this is my third post today.
get over it. I need to write this.

when I say that I don't want a career, I am not saying that I don't want a job.
by "career" I mean a profession in which one desires to progress.
I mean a full time job that ends in retirement.
I mean the kind of job that gives six weeks of maternity leave and two weeks of paid vacation each year.
I don't want that, not because I don't think women should have jobs, but because I think I shouldn't have a job.
by "think" I mean to imply leading from God, thank you.

this does not mean that I am going to give up on the things that I love.
-music and theatre will always play a huge role (yeah, notice the pun, even if the grammar is a little sketchy) in my life. God has given me this love and talent, and I will use it as He leads me.

-food usually makes people happy.
I like making people happy.
I will make food for people.

-I am a little bit obsessive about making formal writing seem professional and intelligent.
I love literature.
I love high school-age students.
I have loved going over papers with my friends, dissecting each paragraph and sentence in order to clearly state the intended meaning.
tutoring high school students in English seems to be a perfect fit.
(no, I don't always follow the rules of English in my posts. I follow the rules of my own writing style.)


so, don't get the wrong idea about me. I'm not planning to be the wife who depends on her husband for every financial need. I do want to have a job.
and I'm not going to stop using the talents and passions that God has given me.
please don't misunderstand me.
I'm not just at college to find a man and get my Mrs. degree.
I'm here to learn. I'm here to gain experience.
I'm here because this is where God wants me right now.
and that is the only thing that I know for sure.

for all the future teachers in the room.

as I sat in my literature class today, I did not expect to feel sad.
we just began reading Till We Have Faces.
I was excited. I get to work on one of my goals for 2010 while doing homework.
but we weren't talking about TWHF yet. we were still talking about The Odyssey. 
Robby asked us to talk about the most helpful exercise we had done in class.
Kari mentioned the proems we had written earlier in the semester.
Robby talked about how important it is to have students write about themselves.
he addressed the future teachers in the room, telling them that this was a good idea.
how can you teach someone if you don't know him or her?

I felt strangely sad and I knew exactly why.
a few months ago, that would have been directed at me.
I would have taken note of it and made it a part of my plan for every first day of school.

but now, after changing my major and having a completely new vision for my life, it took time for me to understand how that relates to my future.
then it hit me, I'm probably still going to be working with students.
if I do tutor high school students in English, I will need to know them.
I will need to find out how they think and learn and come to understand concepts.
I will need to determine where to begin and what concepts to focus on.
I will need them to write for me about themselves.

and so, my sadness quickly passed and was replaced by the hope of a bright future:
a future full of doing what I love.

and that's what my next post is going to be about, because I tend to not clearly communicate how I see my future.

he's a really great guy

that's what I walked away thinking today.
a friend of mine held the gate open for me as I was leaving SG this morning.
he was on his way in; we were going in opposite directions.
he had to stand there for a few seconds before I got there.
"Thank you!!"
"How are you today, Hope?"
quick decision: how much do I say? Do I really tell this guy how I am? No.
sigh "I'm good."
"No, you're not."
"I'm just tired."
and I walked to class.

but I couldn't help thinking "wow, that was really nice of him."
he didn't have to hold the gate.
he could have just said "hi."
I wouldn't have noticed if he had just let me keep walking.
but he took the time to notice my sigh.
he seemed to genuinely care.

I probably could have stood there and given him a list of everything that was going wrong in my life, which included spilling coffee on my table, my phone, my computer, and my jeans about an hour before this encounter. (by the way, about an hour ago, I spilled half a can of Cherry Coke Zero on my computer cord, my phone, and a small pile of stuff by my bed. it's not really my day.)
I probably could have complained to him about all the petty grievances I have with the day-to-day happenings in my life.
but I didn't need to.
I could just appreciate his kindness.

it has made me think, though.
what if everyone noticed and asked about the non-verbal and sub-verbal (sighs, throat clearings, other non-word sounds) cues that occur in conversation?
what if we all genuinely cared about the answers?
what if, when asked, we were willing to open up about the reasons for those cues?
what if we made an effort to carry one another's burdens, and not cling to and hide behind our own?
we'd start having real conversations.
we'd get to know each other.
we'd learn how great it is to "do life together."

and to you, Great Guy (and you know who you are), thank you.
not just for holding the gate, but for giving me a glimmer of hope for humanity.

my little table at Sufficient Grounds

when I was leaving the Great Room tonight to come over here, I told my friend Travis that I would probably end up writing. so I'll write.

in the past couple of weeks I have started to sit at the same table when I come here.
it's close to the counter, next to a window, and near the sugar/cream/lids/sleeves/honey/stirrers station.
also, I could lean back onto the trash can.
from where I sit, I can see everyone who comes in to order.
I can hear snippets of conversations.
I can learn the names of my fellow students as they come to pick up their drinks and food.
when I face away from the rest of the tables, I can read and write and think without being distracted.
if anyone is watching me, he/she can see that I spend an unnecessary amount of time on facebook.
he/she can see how often I write.
he/she can take note of my horrible posture.
when I face the tables, which I don't usually do, I can people watch.
I can write about what I'm noticing.
I can make up stories about the people I see, whether I know them or not.

I like my table, even if it's too small for everything I usually bring to work on.
even if it's not very inviting.
even if the entire room can see what I'm doing.
it's my little space.
my little table at Sufficient Grounds.