Anna's Perfectly Splendid Adventures

Change Your FEED!

2008-04-21T17:41:00.002-05:00

Big changes in life=new blog address. So change your RSS feed (or your bookmark, if that's how you roll).

Check it out now at annahammond.blogspot.com

crash

2007-09-05T15:17:00.000-05:00

At 3:15, I heard the unmistakable bang and screech of a car accident on the corner. I resisted the tempation to run out and look like all the children in the courtyard. I knew I wouldn't be able to help and, well, the memory of my own accident over two and a half years ago still makes my blood run cold.

At 3:18, I heard the siren.

At 3:19, the police arrived.

I guess that's why we pay taxes.

There haven't been any more sirens, so hopefully that means there were no injuries, though I am still praying.

Now they need to use some more of those tax dollars to put in over-street lights, instead of the short little posts on the corners that we currently have.

template

2007-08-21T00:27:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to find an easier to use template for the blog, so right now it's pretty generic. Stay tuned for the new and improved version!

move over iphone...

2007-08-12T22:54:00.000-05:00

...I just bought an omop.

This is Method's version of the mop, though to give this beauty such a lame moniker is a crime. Besides being the most beautiful apparatus used to clean anything, anywhere, it is easy to use and does a commendable job. Plus, it works with both a wet/dry re-washable microfiber pad and swiffer-type throw away clothes (except unlike swiffer, these are corn-derived so they're 100% biodegradable). The floor cleaner is also non-toxic and biodegradable, and smells like almonds instead of chemicals.

So it's a mop that looks good, smells good, and it's green. It's so cool that probably the next one is going to be able to surf the internet and make phone calls using power from the dirt it picks up.

Simpsonized

2007-08-09T10:46:00.001-05:00

I saw the Simpson's movie in the theater this week. Ben, Luke, Ryan and I went to Tinseltown. It was terribly exciting. First, the girl at the ticket counter told us there was no 8:05 show. There was an 8:05 show online, we told her. She insisted that there was no 8:05 show. There was an 8:05 show on the marquee, we told her. She insisted that there was not, but then we politely asked her to check again, and she found it. We got the student price.

We entered the theater and discovered that though we were ten minutes late, nothing was playing. Everyone was just sitting in the theater and staring at the blank screen. So we decided to inform the management that the movie in theater 9 wasn't playing. We could have walked down to the concession stand and bugged them, but we were sitting down already. And we're lazy. So we called management.

When one frequents a run down theater, one should have the number for the theater management memorized (906-0496). When one is in the middle of the climax for Ocean's 12, and already so sure one has missed something important, one is not leaving the theater to tell them the sound is out of sync. So one calls the management and says, "Hi. I'm in theater 6, and the sound is out of sync...yes, I mean the lips don't match the words. Thank you."

The movie was actually really funny. I suppose that with a 18 year reputation to maintain, they had to make it pretty good. At least, I think the movie was good. See, right at the beginning of the climax, as Homer climbs aboard his motorcycle, strobe lights started going off in the theater. And a loudspeaker told everyone to evacuate. And then everyone got up and left, even though the movie was still running.

Everyone in the whole theater was in the hall, so they told us to go outside while they figured out what was wrong. They came out ten minutes later and yelled that it was a false alarm. Said they'd start the movies right where they left off. Except our projector was messed up, remember? We saw the last gag, then watched the credits. So I have no idea how the movie ends. Sad, but true. It could have been worse--the people watching The Bourne Ultimatum left the theater just as Bourne was about to discover his true identity.

We did get a rain check. But no, we aren't sitting through the entire Simpson's movie again to see the last fifteen minutes.

We're going to find out who Jason Bourne really is.

In honor of the experience, I Simpsonized myself. Thanks for the link, Tim May.

windows

2007-07-17T16:20:00.000-05:00

The other day my "black brother" Chris stopped by the apartment but couldn't remember which door was ours. It was dusk, and we live in a brick courtyard building on the fringe of a not-so-great neighborhood. Chris stood in the courtyard and looked up at the windows until he found one that looked "like a window Ben and Anna would have." He knew it was our window because it was the happiest window in the whole building.

Pretty cool stuff. There are a lot of reasons that Ben and I chose this area. Money was a factor--our rent here is great. And the building is cool. It reminds me of where I grew up in Uptown, Chicago, with a black and white tile floor in the bathroom and paned casement windows. However, we also picked this building because we want to be like Jesus to the people around us. I've overheard some unhappy conversations through my happy windows, and I want to do something about that. That's why we are where we are. No kidding.

posting

2007-07-12T20:10:00.000-05:00

must...post...more...often...!

I'm working on it. There are still boxes stacked next to my desk from the move into my new apartment, but the rest of the place looks halfway decent. Okay, it looks pretty good. I'll have to have a party and everyone who comments on this post can be invited. Just kidding. I'm not comment happy like that.

The worst part about having a bigger living space is finding things. I never understood why my mom loses her keys. When all I had was my bedroom, I never lost them. There were maybe two places they could be. Now I lose everything. Sure, some of it is the post-move debris cluttering up good places-to-set-things, but I think the bulk of the problem is that I have three more rooms to look in. Okay, I guess I'd be really dumb if I left my keys (or my phone, or my purse) in the bathroom, but you never know.

The best part of the bigger living space is dancing. Now that the post-move debris is mostly in the dumpster, I can dance all around the big hardwood floors. The living room is particularly good for pirouettes.

I'll put up some pictures soon.

the park

2007-05-23T23:02:00.000-05:00

Today I took my anonymous charges to the park for a picnic dinner. I had three of them, and the littlest guy is two and a half.

So he's playing on the merry-go-round and all these seven year old boys in soccer uniforms come up and jump on the thing and my little charge starts to push them. Pretty good speed, too. They were pretty much ignoring him until one of the cleated demi-athletes says, "Man, you a Cubs fan? That's awesome." My guy said, "uh huh!" and proudly lifted his capped head to smile at all those big boys. Who continued to ignore him. Then another said, "He's pretty strong for a little dude." Beaming, my charge replied, "Yeah, I's pretty strong," and proceeded to push with determination, laughing and grunting and laughing. The boys started paying more attention, asking him for a turn, helping him get on and off, and generally making sure they didn't run him over. He was in his element.

I think I learned a little something about men today. They totally open up and strive when men (or seven-year-olds) they look up to encourage and accept them. I know I see this in my guy. Am I on to something?

sobriety

2007-05-10T13:55:00.000-05:00

so·bri·e·ty

1.	the state or quality of being sober.

2.	temperance or moderation, esp. in the use of alcoholic beverages.

3.	seriousness, gravity, or solemnity: an event marked by sobriety.

I looked into a sobering reality last week. Jimi Allen Photgraphy, the same people that put together girl. ( check out the previous post) created a photography show featuring portraits and stories of people who have no home. It's titled sobriety.

Going through the show, I was incredibly struck by how human we all are. Whether we live in an Oak Park mansion or under a Cicero bridge, we are all broken. We are all human. We all hurt...and so often we all ignore the hurt of everyone sitting around us. I cried looking into those faces.

I was struck with a feeling of lonliness. In a crowded room, surrounded by people, I felt disconnected. God didn't make people to have be acquaintances. He made them to love each other. Intimate, transparent. Crying with the hurt, mourning with the grieving, giving to the hungry, even until we are hungry ourselves. But we are hurt. Broken. And a fragmented heart is not conducive to giving. It is afraid. We become afraid and then we do not love. And when we do not love, we are alone. This is not what Jesus meant for his children.

Yesterday I started reading Sex God by Rob Bell, pastor up at Mars Hill in Michigan. He writes about the incredible value of humanity. Bearers of the image of God. Beautiful, precious treasures, who are so often mistreated. Why? Because things are not as they should be. We all know that. We are born with an ache in our hearts that never goes away. An ache to be in a community, to be intimate, to be connected. To love each other deeply. Like Jesus.

Let's start. Today.

hope
–noun

1.	the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.

–verb

6.	to look forward to with desire and reasonable confidence.

7.	to believe, desire, or trust.

how can we keep ignoring?

2007-04-17T11:56:00.000-05:00

On Sunday I went up to help out at a showing of 'girl.' It's a multimedia show that centers around the beautiful photography of Jimi Allen, who took a trip to Thailand with my Dad in February of 2004 and documented the stories of a few women who work in the bars and my parents' call to help them. It's amazing, thought-provoking, and a little disturbing.

On Sunday the show was presented at a large church in Rockford, IL. After the service people began meandering down the hall, and a few trickled in to the show. Many stopped and looked at the sign on the door, and I started asking, "Would you like to view the show?" Many said no, but I think it was because they were harried by lunch-grumpy little children. One older couple walked by quickly, but I saw the man tug on his wife's elbow and heard him say,

"Wait. I want to see the pictures."

They turned and walked to the doorway, where I greeted them with my best greeter smile. The man peeked into the room and asked what the show was about. Was it part of the Master's Commission at the church? No, I explained, this was a multimedia gallery that told the stories of women who work in Bangkok's red light districts and of the missionaries who work to remind them what real love looks like. I saw a wave of interest flash across the woman's eyes, but the man looked a little shocked, then turned gruffly and said,

"We really need to go."

He used the same elbow-tug technique and, within seconds, they were gone.

I was stunned, and a little angry. But my anger gave way to a deep sadness, one that went beyond me.

I understand the need to protect our hearts and minds from the evil parts of the world. Paul reminds us to think about things that are admirable and excellent, and prostitution is neither. But when our refusal to see evil things invades us to a place where our hearts no longer ache with the desire to see the evil ended, we allow it to triumph. By insulating ourselves in a happy Christian world, we leave the world Jesus made and loves to rot from the inside out.

Another elderly, hesitant couple decided to come in, and the wife later came up to me with tears in her eyes, nearly unable to speak. I asked if she would like to leave a comment, and she nodded. As we were packing up, I flipped through the book and found her words. Blinking to hold back my tears, I read,

"How can we keep ignoring?"

thai day

2007-04-13T23:56:00.000-05:00

Like my new template?

Today was a Thai day. I started this morning by writing down words in english and in Thai script and posting them in my room. When I see them, I 'read' the Thai words and pay attention to the script. They say a five-year-old needs 2-3 thousand literacy hours in order to learn to read well, so I have a lot to catch up on. We'll see how it works. I wonder if there is a Thai equivalent to Dr. Suess...

Ben and I went to Thai Spice for dinner. They changed owners a few months ago and we'd heard mixed reviews, but the food was great. Not quite spicy enough, but excellent in a bland sort of way. I love rice. It meets a need in my soul. Sort of like peanut m&ms, and if you understand the depth of my addiction to peanut m&ms, you'll understand the gravity of that statement. Rice is a beautiful thing. It reminds me of living in Asia.

I rounded it out by reading dad's blog and then watching youtube videos of Songkran, the national Thai New Year's celebration where everyone wears Hawai'ian shirts and throws water at everyone, even innocent bystanders. I've never seen a Songkran, but it is on my list of things to do before I die.

Now I'm trying to finish the guest list for my wedding and starting to wish we'd chosen to elope. Oh well.

fact of the day

2007-04-10T23:12:00.000-05:00

Double entry bookkeeping was invented by a magician. I wish he'd make my taxes disappear. A la peanut butter sandwiches!

Man, I really miss being four some days.

Real entry soon to come.

reality, age three

2007-04-05T19:48:00.000-05:00

In one of my education classes, the teacher likes to go off-topic and go on and on about how tv is bad for little kids because they need to experience the real, 3-d world in order for their little brains to develop, which, of course, reminded me of being three.

Remember the old 1970 tootsie pop commercial? When I was a very small being, I didn't realize that commercials repeat. So I thought that the dumb kid kept giving his candy to that meanie bird with a funny hat who never counted the licks properly, the cheating scumbag. I tried yelling at the kid to warn him that the owl was a conniving candy thief. When that didn't work, I nailed the owl on the head with a toy. To this day I still get miffed at that blasted owl.

(If you can't get the youtube, here are the storyboards to the original commercial)

stress and nausea

2007-04-03T14:56:00.000-05:00

Without a doubt, this last weekend was one of the most miserable I have ever had in my life.

There is nothing more disheartening than staying up until 2 am, waking up at 6:30 and working all day until 12:30 am on the next day to finish a huge, sixty-one page long, quarter-of-your-final-grade assignment. Unless, of course, you spend most of that interminably long time dry-heaving into a mixing bowl. Then it's like dying over and over and over again.

I made it. Barely. I still feel shaky all over and I'm super behind on everything else, so if I kind of hide out this month it isn't because I don't love you. I do.

Did I mention that all the crocuses bloomed?

you ain't foolin' me

2007-02-20T20:05:00.000-06:00

You ain't foolin me, February.

You think you're all that,
with your sunshine
warm breeze
and muddy puddlin' sidewalks.

But you ain't foolin' me.

You might be foolin' the birds, February.

They're singing thier hearts out
with lighthearted chirpin',
crazy tunes
and high-falutin' lyrics.

But you ain't fooling me.

You might be foolin' the grass, February.

It's trying to grow green
with muddy snow,
squishy earth
and springtime determination.

But you ain't foolin' me.

You might be fooling my friends, February.
They're acting crazy
with summer clothes
no coats
and joyful winter-dead cries.

But you ain't foolin' me.

I know you, February.
I know you are still winter.
Leave the guesswork up to March.

Still, it was nice of you to try.

living for crocuses

2007-02-15T21:58:00.000-06:00

One of my profs calls me a "super student." I wish I got to wear a cape and fly, too. Stress is my sunshine and worry my kryptonite, and academia is a sickening balance of the two. A blank white poster board reclines on the floor next to King Bidgood's in the Bathtub, a lesson plan gapes unfinished from the monitor on my desktop, and a glossy mountain thirty picture books tall graces my bed. There is a quiz waiting in the wings, biding its time on my thumb drive, as well as a journal entry that hasn't crept out from the recesses of my mind quite yet.

All due early next week.

I am living for the crocuses. I know enough about the leonine madness some dare to call spring in Chicago to not worship spring break, but I am ready to see the bold green fingers laugh at the snow and the cold and come up, quietly smiling at the world, not audacious like the fanfare of daffodils or loud like sirens of tulips. They are the first, the brave, and the beautiful.

I am living for the crocuses because I want to be one. Despite the mounds of suffocating snow pressing against me, I feel the warm sunlight above. It urges me on through the malicious elements and blustery days into a world of sunlight and hope of a verdant summer.

My petals are purple.

winter

2007-02-03T18:08:00.000-06:00

I like flying along the satin sheen of wind-buffed snow on a sunny morning.

I like hearing nothing but the rythmic tramping crunch of snowboots on salty concrete.

I like inhaling the sharp bitterness of frozen air.

I like dancing like black branches abandoning themselves to a deeper velvet blue sky.

I like listening to the whispered downy quietness of moonlight on drifting snow.

I like snuggling into the softness of a fuzzy-thick scarf.

I like identifying with the violent angry rattle of the storm windows.

I like tasting the sweet, crystal-clear coldness that sticks to my face.

I like breathing big white clouds.

writers block

2006-11-27T14:49:00.000-06:00

Nothing terribly interesting has happened lately.

I need to read things that don't include methodology sections, I think. My brain is toast.

Nothing a little 'Bou won't cure...

post-homework muddling

2006-11-11T16:43:00.000-06:00

I can only stuff so much homework into one afternoon before I start including words like quantitiative and correlational into my basic vocabulary. I actually began analyzing the behavior of the children playing behind me (at 'Bou). If you care to know, they're engaged in associative play, just a step below cooperative, and they are fairly adept at ascertaining each other's point of view, which means they're probably reaching the tail end of Piaget's pre-operational stage...

Good lord, I'm going to write a flipping paper and all I want to do is drink my tea.

*sigh* There was more, but it isn't coming out of my head right now. Stay tuned...

it's very cold and rainy

2006-11-10T23:07:00.000-06:00

I've realized that I talk about the weather a lot when I write in my blog. Not exactly scintillating reading, I'm sure. I guess it is because the weather frequently reflects my mood. Oh well.

Today I played hide and seek in the dark with my nameless charges (not the anonymous siblings) and it is worth mentioning that two year olds do not understand hide and seek in the dark. Don't get me wrong--the nameless toddler is a bright little guy, who understands that hiding is more than standing with his face in the corner. He actually gets behind things.

But, being the careful nanny that I am, I don't believe in letting two year olds wander around in dark basements. So I hid with him. We found a good spot behind some boxes that was actually rather comfortable because there were some soft sleeping bags next to us. I explained to toddler that we were hiding and that we had to be very quiet. He got a serious look on his face and sat very still, eyes wide, not making a peep.

Until the lights went out. In case you were skimming the above, notice that we played hide-and-seek in the dark. Which meant that before the oldest nameless child, who is thirteen, came downstairs, he flipped the switch. And this was too fascinating for toddler. It was so fascinating that he felt the need to explain it to me in great detail and proceeded to inform me, in very emphatic toddlerese, "Dark! Light! Dark! Light! Hide!"

Given that oldest isn't deaf in any way, shape or form, you can guess who he found first.

So what's with granola?

2006-10-31T21:44:00.000-06:00

I really do intend on blogging more. I try. I really try. Writing regularly is hard. Maybe that's why most writers are poor and melancholy--too much thought, not enough action. I like thought and action together, which is one of the reasons I chose to become a teacher. I can only think of a few vocations that involve more thought and action than teaching, and they all involve mortal peril.

So because nothing has really inspired me today, I am writing a regular entry. You know the type: "Today I had granola for breakfast. What's with granola anyway?"

In truth, I did not eat breakfast. I threw a pop-tart in my bag and ate it while driving home to eat lunch. I hate having extra time on weekday mornings; it throws off my groove. I have to be up and moving quickly or I lose momentum and feel sluggish all morning. So I set my alarm clock a mere twenty minutes before I need to be driving down the block, and I make a mad rush to get out the door. Breakfast is a casualty of collegiate life.

I eat breakfast after school (at 9:00) on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and that's been really nice. I love having that half hour to drink a cup of tea and have real cereal with milk in it. I read the paper then, too. That breakfast time is some of my favorite time in the week. I need time to stop and breathe. Sometimes I feel like breathing is a casualty of collegiate life, too.

lady weather

2006-10-02T14:22:00.000-05:00

Today I intended on taking my books to the park and studying under a tree. The forecast was beautiful--sunny with a high of 83. I am an ardent fan of indian summer, and I figured I would enjoy today. The crispy smell of dry leaves baking in the sun and the sharp end-of-summer grass are things to be delighted in.

Unfortunately, I live in a city where the saying, "If you don't like the weather, just wait a few hours," is often unbelievably true. The sunny sky that promised good times this morning became more moody than a 15 year old girl and by noon, she had a temper tantrum. Lighting flashed, thunder crashed, and the air was white with rain. All in about the span of 20 minutes. I came home from work to a puddly world, complete with soggy leaves and dripping branches. No park today.

Still, I'm not complaining. I love the weather here. Maybe its because I was raised in this climate so, like a child brought up on too much television gets ADD, I need meterological stimulation. When the weather is the same day in and day out I get stir crazy and start shaking my fists skyward. I adore not knowing whether to pull out a t-shirt or a sweater, and putting on both "just in case." I love the freakish nature and the total rebellion of the forecast, as though she yells to us, "You think you've got me all figured out! Think again, suckers!" And then she'll get all calm, cool, and collected. For a few minutes, anyway.

that's...life.

2006-09-26T20:44:00.000-05:00

I get eight hours of sleep almost every night.

That's good.

No, that's bad because I'm still tired every morning.

That's bed.

No, that's good because I get ready in the morning faster when I'm tired.

That's good.

No, that's bad because I get stressed out when I move faster.

That's bad.

No, that's good because the stress helps me wake up so I can do the stuff I would have done if I had gone to bed later.

That's good.

No, that's bad because when the stress runs out, I'm really tired. I'm so tired that I talk to myself and try and reason whether or not I have a reasonable schedule or whether or not my life is good or bad.

The Glory that is 50

2006-09-18T14:31:00.000-05:00

Over a year later, I have attained a glorious victory in blogdom.

I, esteemed visitor, have reached the 50th post.

I have carefully considered this moment of jubilee. How best to acknowledge the passage of all these words and thoughts? How best to commemorate the insight, the wit, the irregularity, and the general randomness of all that is Tiny Specks?

I thought about doing a flashback montage of the best moments of the blog, but bad 90s sit-coms kept interferring with my thoughts. I then decided to create some sort of ode hailing the epic side of the blog, but as you know, I'm not the over the top type. Finally, I debated taking a picture of myself sitting at my computer with the blog on the screen, smiling happily, but that screamed myspace, and I'm not in middle school.

So then I decided that, given the blog's history, I should simply follow tradtion and continue in the pattern which has underscored my entire blogging experience. I simply won't post at all.

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. There is no 50th post. It is the gap between post 49 and this one, which is officially the 51st. All hail the little black space.

young adultness

2006-09-13T16:19:00.000-05:00

I lost three things yesterday--my pen, my notebook, and my brain.

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. For the past few weeks, my mind has been a puddle of mushy, foggy information. I have a rehearse my day in my mind while I brush my teeth or I swear I'd forget to go to school. I might even forget to stop brushing my teeth. It's that bad.

I thought I was going mental. Seriously, who can't manage their life? My mother forgets things sometimes, but she has six other people to keep track of. I'm only a college student.

That was the epiphany. I'm only a college student. They call us "young adults" because--get this--we aren't adults yet. We're still figuring that out. I'm in the process of learning how to manage my time, prioritize my schedule, and call people back within a reasonable amount of time. (Sorry, Marc.) And for a college student, I'm doing pretty well. In fact, I think I'm even getting better at it. Pretty sweet and awesome.

I even do my laundry every other week.

Defying Gravity

2006-09-09T11:54:00.000-05:00

I recently signed up for Yahoo's Music Unlimited, and one of the treasures I've found is the soudtrack to Wicked, the greatest musical I have ever seen.

I've always wanted to fly, and this song, well, I'd like to be able to have you hear it, because it totally strikes a chord in my heart.

Elphaba:
Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap

It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you can't pull me down...

Glinda:
Can't I make you understand, you're having delusions of grandeur...?

Elphaba:
I'm through accepting limits
'Cuz someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But 'till I try, I'll never know
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love - I guess I have lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost

I'd sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
And you can't pull me down...

Glinda, come with me. Think of what we could do - together.

Unlimited
Together we're unlimited
Together we'll be the greatest team
There's ever been, Glinda,
Dreams the way we planned 'em

Glinda:
If we work in tandem

Both:
There's no fight we cannot win
Just you and I
Defying gravity
With you and I
Defying gravity

...

Elphaba:
So if you care to find me
Look to the western sky
As someone told me lately -
Ev'ryone deserves the chance to fly
And if I'm flying solo
At least I'm flying free
To those who'd ground me
Take a message back from me -

Tell them how I
Am defying gravity!
I'm flying high
Defying gravity!
And soon I'll match them in renown
And nobody in all of Oz
No wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down!

I know I'm copping out of a real post, but what the heck. It is my favorite song right now. So sue me. Isn't it a lovely song?

what drives YOU?

2006-09-06T15:32:00.000-05:00

In case you were wondering about those resolutions, I did two loads of laundry today. And, uh, a paper that is kind of due in about ten hours...

I learned today that Newton was an idiot. Yes, that Newton. Apple on the head "whoops, gravity" Newton. As a small child, I always wondered what people thought when apples fell before. I mean, it took until the reinassance for people to notice that things fall when dropped? Seriously, I'd give more credit to humankind that that.

Anyway, today I discovered that this brilliant physicist, inventor of gravity, finder of the laws of motion and lauded as the father of classical mechanics, died of mercury poison. Why?

He spent most of his life trying to turn iron into gold.

Oh well. At least his cookies are good.

Ballet Slippers

2006-09-05T22:10:00.000-05:00

Today I danced again. I love dancing. I love the satisfying ache of hard work that goes with accomplishment. I love the way ballet combines graceful beauty and iron strength.

I also love modern plumbing's amazing gift: the hot bath.

Labor Day

2006-09-04T10:42:00.000-05:00

This is America:

We create a holiday to celebrate the working public, the remnants of that good ole Puritan work ethic, and capitalist pride across the nation.

Then we give everyone the day off.

The September Resolutions

2006-09-03T15:42:00.000-05:00

As a teacher in the making, the New Year begins not in January, but in September. Therefore, this is the time of the resolution, and I have decided to make a few. And so, without furthur ado, the September Resolutions:

1) Inasmuch (a wonderful word, no?) that it depends on me, I shall blog regularly. Discipline is necessary to one living a scheduled life, and writing is good for my mind and occasionally, my heart. Journalling really isn't an option for me, as I have no penchant for writer's cramp. My mom blames this on the fact that I cannot hold my pencil correctly; I blame it on the fact that I have a low pain tolerance in my hands. You should see me when I have a hangnail.

2) Procrastination is not an option. All reading and assignments will be done at least two days before they are due. That is, as soon as all my books arrive from the mysterious world of cyberspace. Of course, there are a few quid pro quos pertaining to trivial distractions like death and disease, but I'll spare you the details.

3) I will only worry about one thing every day. Once I have worried about it sufficiently, I will stop worrying and not worry again until the next day. I considered vowing not to worry at all, but imediately began to fret over whether or not such a thing would be possible, and realized that by making such a promise, I should break it every day by simply worrying that I would break it, and the point of resolutions is not torture. Well, usually.

4) I will read books that aren't related to school. I think the lack of well-written fiction in my life has been the primary factor in the decline of my writing, both in skill and volume. When I do not read, I am less curious, less motivated to think, and less happy. In truth, reading prevents me from being a rather dull, spiritless individual.

5) I will take everything in moderation. Including moderation.

There you have it. The five resolutions of an elementary teacher in training. And there was much rejoicing. Woot.

Letters

2006-05-18T13:41:00.000-05:00

I got six letters today. Oh, the happy times of bliss. Getting letters used to be so much fun...so magical. You write it, lick the envelope, lick the stamp (ooh, I feel old-ish) place it in the magical blue box on Broadway, and then someone would write back and--oh! My heart leaps to think of it.

No, you see, now I am to be an adult, and do boring things like earn money and fill out paperwork. Now I am to recieve dull, tedious business sized envelopes that contain boring, spiritless documents. Truly, the word "letter" doesn't apply. No, dearest reader, these are the kind of letters that suck the very life from the romance that is the mailman.

The Letters
in the order I opened them.

The first letter was from Waubonsee, informing me that I owe them money for summer classes. Therefore, I need to go to the financial aid office tomorrow and tell them I need money. Then I will take the money, walk ten feet around a corner and hand it back to them.

The second letter was from the Illinois student Assistance Commission, informing me that I am elilible for a MAP grant, provided I do x, complete y, and fill out z. I've already done the first two.

The third and fourth letters were from the National Evaluation System in cooperation with the Illinois Certification Testing System. Apparently my "basic skills" will be tested shortly, and I am UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES to bring a cell phone. The letter is very clear on this point.

The fifth letter was from the Mayor of Aurora. He thinks I should go to AU. I'm so glad, because now I can finalize my decision. Before I was a bit wishy-washy as to whether or not I should attend AU, which is why I registered, but now that the Mayor wants me there I simply cannot say no. I mean, the Mayor of the second largest town in Illinois took the time to tell me where he thinks I should go to school. Too bad I can't remember what his name is.

The sixth and final letter was also from Waubonsee, informing me that my 4.0 remains intact. Let there be feasting and much rejoicing among all the good peoples of the earth.

So you see, for me, mail has transformed into a drab moment in my rather colorful existence. May you, dear reader, be more lucky than I.

I apologize for the strangeness of this entry. My sanity leaves at about one am, followed shortly by common sense which is closely followed by wit, and you poor readers are left with only scraps of the brilliance that comprises my being--and a whopping dose of vanity on the side.

Laughter

2006-03-22T22:20:00.000-06:00

I got out of my car tonight and the air smelled of spring. The air held a quiet, earthy dampness which though muffled by the chilly evening, eeked through the tree branches, gently twitching them aside as if to say, "Excuse me, I'm coming in now," like Cinderella shyly entering the ball.

Soon enough, Spring, you'll explode. The crocuses are hinting yellow and purple, and even the laughter of the daffodils is beginning to echo beneath the icy wind. For now, you may continue your coquettry. Winter is a thing to be laughed away.

In my heart there is Spring, too. I am not laughing quite yet, but the smile within my soul is growing. I have lived in winter for a very long time now. The human heart is not created for winters, you see. Rather, mine clamors for beauty, for light, for laughter, and for love. There is certainly beauty to be found in Winter, for there is always hope in winter, and true hope is always lovely to look at. Hope is lovely because if it is real, it is not dissapointed. There is always Spring. Aslan will return. A King will find his Princess. Her soul will laugh louder than a host of daffodils.

Apologies

2006-03-10T13:38:00.000-06:00

The internet is a magical wonder. Apparently it is of the realm of technology, but in truth it is a deep and mystical power that my computer cannot grasp, for indeed, it loses this secret capability frequently.

You see, my computer is not gifted socially. It's a bit of a nerd. Therefore I, who am not a nerd, appear as one because my computer is far to shy to maintain connections with the outside world. Poor Bill.* I forgive you.

I hope all two of my faithful readers will forgive Bill as well. We're working on it, Bill and I. He is working through some issues and rediscovering his inner motherboard.

If you'll excuse me, I am going to eat lunch and then go outside, for it is a lovely day.

*Bill is apparently the name of my computer. I didn't name it that, but on the network description it shows up as "Bill" not "ANNAPC" which is what I named it. Creepy? You bet.

Smile Mornings

2006-03-05T00:41:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I wish I was five and doing this would get me picked up.
That's why I have Jesus.

The First Day

2006-01-17T17:15:00.000-06:00

...of the rest of my life.

I went back to school today. It cost me $960 in tution and will probably cost me another $400 in books. Does anyone notice anything wrong with that? It's simply not right. A math book that I will never refer to again should not cost $120, and if it does, it should be on all of the used book sites because all the poor students should be trying to get some of that precious cash back into their poor bank accounts. Yet I have searched all the sites to no avail. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. It's actually more expensive online. So tomorrow I will walk the death march down the corridors of the downtown campus and fork over the dough. Why do they pick on the college students?

I did find my $95 music book for $16 online. The cover has been ripped off and it's highlighted. As if I care.

I got engaged, too. The wedding will be in a year and a half, and right now, I'm so poor I almost wish it was longer. But I am happy, and so not all will ever be lost.

In history (American History to 1865) we made groups and had to figure out what we all had in common. We were all white, we were all sophomores, we all liked chocolate, we were all tired, and though no one said it, we were all christians. Not just any christians. We were youth ministry and missions majors. Except me. I was so bummed I kept my mouth shut. Maybe they'll witness to me. Somehow I doubt that. I seriously dislike this town.

In Literature my teacher lovingly told me and the girl behind me that we were "a couple of smart a****" because the last books we've read were Jane Eyre and a Tale of Two Cities. Maybe I can be friends with him. I think he likes me already.

In my music class we were told that though we might not sing beautifully, there is something beautiful about each and every one of us, whether anyone knows it or not, and that our job as teachers will be to find the beauty in each and every child that walks through our classroom, and then to help that beauty grow. He loves Jesus. His eyes are real. (he also plays in church every Sunday)

To sum it up, I'm not very impressed with school. But I'm growing in a different way right now; I'm learning self-discipline and the value of being prepared. Thomas H. Huxley says it the best:

"Perhaps the most valuable result of all education is the ability to make yourself do the thing you have to do, when it ought to be done, whether you like it or not; it is the first lesson that ought to be learned; and however early a man's training begins, it is probably the last lesson that he learns thoroughly."

So off I go, to finish applying for financial aid and redeem my money. Then I shall read the 100 odd pages of homework I have to do. If I cannot redeem my time, I will have at least learned something of the value of hard work.

O, Christmas Tree

2005-12-23T17:01:00.000-06:00

"Trees that remain green in the winter have been symbolic of life in the midst of death, and of rebirth, in many cultures. The Christian folk-religious custom of erecting and adorning evergreen trees in the middle of winter was borrowed directly from existing practice, regardless of whether the custom had pagan roots. Some of the existing meaning has been carried over into Christian culture, together with these practices.

"Trees appear with symbolic meaning throughout the Bible: and the Christmas tree alludes to and builds upon this biblical symbolism. From the symbolic tree of knowledge of good and evil, concerning which the Fall of man and the curse of death came, to the tree of life from access to which mankind has been cut off, to the Oak of Mamre which "witnessed" the covenant made with Abraham and the renewal of that covenant with Joshua, to promises concerning the root of Jesse, the Branch, the Messiah, who was hung on a tree to bear the curse, and has been raised up again as a tree of life for the healing of the nations: the Christian story can be told from beginning to end in the symbolic terms of trees.

"To focus on one stream of the development of this late Christian symbol, the Christmas tree symbolizes, in part, the promised "Branch", the Messiah, who must be the "Root of Jesse", the descendant prefigured by Jesse's royal son, David. The tree symbolizes the human geneaology of Jesus and especially his tie to David's royal line through Solomon, which had been perplexingly cut off by God from ever inheriting the throne, after Jeconiah. This connection to the cut-off line is symbolized by the cut-down tree, and is indirectly a symbol of the Son of God. According to Christian tradition, although a descendant of Nathan on his mother's side, Jesus is an heir of Solomon on his supposed father's side. In other words, if Joseph were in fact Jesus's father, then Jesus cannot be the Messiah, because Joseph is descended from Jeconiah, the cut-off line.

"But through his mother, the genealogy of Jesus satisfies the promise of the Messiah in terms of human descent, and this is symbolized by the erect tree. It is an evergreen, because of his eternal origin as God, according to Christian belief. And yet, the tree is also customarily cut down before it is decorated, symbolizing that Jesus is also an heir of the line of Solomon by adoption, through Joseph. So, Christians think that God's word was miraculously fulfilled through the virgin birth, because in that way, the Branch came from the cut-off line of Jesse by adoption, and also by the living line of Jesse. By the birth of Jesus, the promise concerning Jesse's line has been fulfilled, Christians believe, and in this restoration Adam and Eve's line, all mankind, redeemed from futility and death, is symbolized. And that is why the Christmas tree is cut down, but restored erect, evergreen and clothed in light, in symbolic commemoration of the virgin birth."*

*adapted from wikipedia.com

I miss my girls

2005-12-20T22:38:00.000-06:00

I have my mom here, and she's great. I've got two sisters, and they're great. I've also got a Dad, two awesome brothers, and the best boyfriend imaginable. But my sisters are young and my mom is often busy. While I love my family and my boyfriend, I've got an empty spot. I miss talking about girl things. I miss laughing with girls and being at ease with girls and doing things with girls.

I miss talking about chick movies. I miss watching them. I want to see Pride and Prejudice with girls. Afterwards I'd like to talk about it the way only girls can talk about it. None of this breaking apart of the acting and cinematography and lamenting the scenes of lengthy dialogue, but rather digesting the relationships and the story in the way girls do together when not one male is present. Slowly and over a long time, with food to accompany and lots of laughter and intermittent sighs at how cute guys with accents are.

I miss sleepovers and talking L-A-T-E into the night about the nearest and dearest things in my heart and in their hearts. I miss being teased about my boyfriend and teasing other girls too, and then laughing and groaning because boys are so bizarre. The most bizarre things on earth that like to discuss things like politics and video games and movies and computer parts and fighting techniques and music. Instead, I want the conversation to drift over into things like clothes and boys and God and fun and shopping and giggles and hot tea...and heartaches. I miss having conversations that compare nothing at all, conversations that are not veiled debates, and conversations that are completely unimportant yet vital to every girls' heart. I miss my friends.

I love you. See you soon.
Can we have some girl time?

disclaimer to the boys: Don't worry. I love you. I love talking to you. I even love debating with you. But you know how we do...

Kong your Burger

2005-12-17T08:23:00.000-06:00

Anonymous Youngest Child: Well, I think that King Kong is just a pathetic movie. I mean, so a gorilla falls in love with a blonde chick. Like that's supposed to be cool.

Post, Most, Ghost, Host...

2005-12-13T22:25:00.000-06:00

We're studying poetry right now. Thought I'd give you a sample of Youngest Child's latest creation. Note: Youngest Child is usually very poetic and writes the most amazing haiku of any 8 year old I know. However, his couplets are a little wacko.

Shakespeare is unclear
because he drank root beer.

I saw a buccaneer,
But he was killed by a cavalier.
But he was killed by a musketeer!
Ahhh! No! He cried.
But he was killed by a mouseketeer,
and he died.

I wrote that one when I was trying to explain ending syllable rhyming. So maybe the wacko poetry is not without cause...

nothing worthwhile

2005-12-06T10:21:00.000-06:00

I am uninspired tonight.

I am tired, I am sick, I am on medication for being sick that makes me tired.

I think I had a fever because I rejoiced that the mall I entered was air-conditioned in such a manner as I have never rejoiced prior.

They were playing Christmas music in the mall. Have you ever gone into a mall, rejoiced in air-conditioning, and heard the tinkling strains of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and not been demented? I have. At least, I think I'm not demented.

This post gets filed under the "I feel like I should make a post because I haven't in awhile but really don't feel like writing, can you tell?" category. Yet I make no apologies. None.

*sigh* just shoot me and tell me to go to bed before I hurt myself. Um, wait...

The Ultimate Jedi meet the Anonymous Sibs

2005-11-30T04:04:00.000-06:00

Setting: Late afternoon, the living room. Anonymous Youngest Child and Anonymous Little Sister are in front of the computer comparing the two Jedi of Lucas' latest attempt at a movie.

Anonymous Little Sister: Obi-Wan is better because he basically cuts off Anakins legs, one arm, basically his face, and he set him like, on fire.

Anonymous Youngest Child: Yeah, but Anakin is the one who like, killed Obi-Wan in the first place. (editors note: Youngest Child has only seen Episodes 1&2. But if you go by the release dates, Anakin did kill Obi Wan before Obi Wan maimed him, I guess.)

Anonymous Little Sister: Yeah but that's only because he was like mostly robot. I mean, it wasn't even really him he was so robot.

Anonymous Youngest Child: But he can do the choking thing and kill everyone.

Anonymous Little Sister: Well, I wouldn't like to be choked to death like that.

Peace for Despair

2005-11-30T03:02:00.000-06:00

She sits at the window;
she hurts from the day.
she screams out to no one,
she cries to the same.
she falls from the sunshine,
she breaks her shattered heart.
she gasps at the splinters and
she tries to gather them up.
she drops the sharp pieces
she spills them on the floor
she yells out at everyone
she hates her broken heart.
she despairs...oh, she despairs.

It's not the greatest in the world, but it's a start. I think it might eventually be a song, believe it or not. The song isn't about me, either. I don't know who it's about.

Lately I've been going to bed and feeling useless. Then I wake up and feel useless. Through every waking moment I feel a hole in my middle, right above my bellybutton and about the size of my fist. It's a clean hole right through me, and at night I become aware that there is cold air blowing through me. I have a missing piece.

Am I valuable? Am I worth the oxygen I breathe? Am I doing my part? For so long, my life has been about bettering myself. Sure, I like to please people. But more so, I have an incredible drive to please myself. If I'm not up to my personal expectations, I quit. They call it perfectionism, apparently. I call it torture. Who regularly guilt-trips themselves? I do. There is nothing good about it. (Well, the 4.0 is a plus...) So every night I go to sleep feelinginadequatee. I'm almost 20 and I often feel that I have little to show for it. Half the time I go to sleep wondering if I've failed myself.

Then there is God. For the past year I've been trying to do better with God and instead my relationship with him has slipped into atrophy. My prayers are hollow, my bible reading is stagnant, and worshipping has become incredibly difficult. I've started hating having a quiet time because I can't meet any expectations (my own) with my regularity. Church is in Thai, for the most part. I can count the number of sermons I've understood in the last six months on one hand. (Not that I'm complaining. A sermon is the worst possible way of communicating information into my head. I'm a discuss and process person--but I haven't had that either.)

Don't worry. I'm not barfing onto my blog. It gets better. ; )

So I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I didn't feel better. But my heart was opened. I used to be a very introspective person and I stopped because it hurt too much to think about myself. I'd forgotten how to do that, and instead I was only aware that something was wrong. And the crying opened my heart. My heart hurt, I realized. That is howcallousedd I was. My soul hurt and I didn't even know it.

What do you do when God isn't giving you peace and you can't figure out how to "give your burdens to Jesus?" I've struggled with that for years. So many Christians say it, and I never could figure out how. When I asked how, they would say things like, "just lay it down at his feet" or "ask him to take it away." Sorry, folks. No dice. It wasn't working. I didn't get it.

My dad is amazing. There is no denying that. I have received better advice from him than anyone else in the world. I think because he's been either a pastor, worship leader, or missionary in the past 25 years and he's been my daddy for close to 20.

I explained to my mom everything I just explained here, and she said some good things. I need to not beat myself up so much for one. Check. I'll try. But she had no answer for the "burden" thing and how far away from Jesus I feel. That's when my Daddy yelled from the computer,

"You just have to be grateful, Annie."

That's it. I can do that. I can be thankful for my Jesus. I can be thankful for everything I can do and for everyone I can be with. I can be thankful for happy things, for sad things, for big things, for little things.

I talked to Jesus last night as I went to sleep and told him five things that I am very grateful for.

I didn't feel empty.

I was made to praise Jesus. Then the heavyness slips away and the holes are filled with love.

The Anonymous Family and the Video Store

2005-11-26T06:04:00.000-06:00

Anonymous Mother: Oh, we need to take The Polar Express back!

Anonymous Youngest Child: (turns whine up to full blast) Awwww, maaaaan, I only watched it once!

Anonymous Mother: Youngest Child! Don't complain about that. Be happy you got to watch it!

Anonymous Middle Sister: (with 'duh' written all over her voice) Yeah Youngest Child, some kids don't even have movies. Like in deepest darkest Africa.

Pie, Potter, People...

2005-11-22T23:09:00.000-06:00

Ahhh. I hate pie crusts. I am the Queen of Piecrusts, you see. I can roll and shape a perfect crust every time. It is where the oven comes in that I get angry. Stupid oven. I put it in all pretty and when it comes out...it looks sloppy. Still a pie crust, still tasty, and not even bad-looking. But it is no longer perfect. Thus, I loathe the oven. It destroys my perfect pie crusts. Die.

I saw Harry today and I liked it. Then I came home and we've rented Herbie. For some reason I thought that was funny.

In other news, Ben might have to miss Thanksgiving because there are no substitutes that night to teach his english class, and Thai people don't celebrate that holiday. Apparently the pilgrims never landed in Asia. Weird, huh? (yeah, sorry...that was a little sarcasm...I'm on the crabby side today. I have a toothache.)

Hmm...there is a lot of american food in the house...um...I think that's it for now. Yuppers.

happy happy joy joy

2005-11-18T22:07:00.001-06:00

I love today!

I have finally figured the Secret to a Happy Anna: give her about 9 hrs of sleep at night. 10 is too much and 8 is not enough. I was always told that 8 was enough for a happy, healthy grown-up style person (and when in school, 6) but I think I seriously need 9. So I've been testing my theory this week--and I am 95% sure that my general attitude of cheer comes from enough sleep. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

Now if I can keep that up when in school...
This week was pretty good, as weeks go. I spent all day yesterday at the health club with Jaimie and Sam. That sounds so glamourous. Haha. We did school, table tennis, school, tried badminton, then ran, school, then swam for an hour. The kids were hyper, but by the end, I was exhausted. I'm out of shape...ugh. I hate that feeling. After dancing six times a week for two years, being out of shape feels gross. Not that I'm fat (actually, I've lost weight and look older because my cheeks are thin. heehee) but I have no stamina and I've lost my splits. ughughugh. What will I do after having a kid? I have no clue...

The kids are watching Robin Hood starring Errol Flynn. If you don't know who that is, I'm sorry. Hint though--Bob Anderson, swordfight choreographer extraordinare (Star Wars, Princess Bride, Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Carribean, Legend of Zorro, even the fencing duel in the Parent Trap...bascially any good swordfight in modernish cinema) was his stunt double in a few movies. There is some good swordfighting in this movie. I am so taking up fencing.

Okay, I'm supposed to meet Ben at Siam in under an hour, and I'm in my pajamas. *giggle*

Love today!

Oh God...I live in Asia

2005-11-15T19:55:00.000-06:00

Somedays I walk out of my house and I can't help but think, "Oh my God. I live in Asia."*

Yes, that really is an old lady in flip-flops buying veggies off the back of a pick-up, then shuffling down the puddly street, back bent from carrying the kilos of food so that she cannot see the bright pink flowers dangling just over her bowed head.

Yes, that taxi really is pink. Hot pink. Barbie-style pink. Too bad it's also busy because now I have to wait a whole thirty seconds for the next one, which is red and white.

Yes, that really is squid frying on that sidewalk grill, roasting on sticks next to octopus. And yes, I can buy it for 5 baht. (10¢)**

Yes, there is only one other non-thai on the skytrain car and he is scaring me. His sunglasses don't fit and his white polo is stained and he gets off after one stop.

Yes, they are playing christmas music at the Asok skytrain station; What Child is This? actually. It sounds weird, but I have no clue why.

Yes, that is a beggar sitting next to the stairs with an empty cup o'noodles container*** stretched out for any satang that might come his way. And yes, he really is missing a hand. And the lower half of his leg.

Yes, that fruit hawker is sleeping under the station, leaning on a concrete pole, head drooping to her chest with her straw hat threatening to slip off into the traffic.

Yes, those tangled black lines suspended in a thick web about 5 m off the ground actually have a current running through them, supplying power and TV to the nearby houses and rang sewen.****

Yes, that motorcycle nearly nailed me. So did that cab. So did that car. So did that cab. So did that cop. And yes, there is a 'cross at your own risk' unwritten policy in this city.

Yes, that department store is decked out in pink and white shiny tinsel Christmas decorations and it's lit up too, but somehow, it's not cheery.

Yes, that is McDonald's...my destination. Because no matter how much the world has globalized and westernized, living in Asia is not like living in America. Sometimes you just have to have a few fries.

The Footnotes...
*yes, I said oh my God. But I don't think that is taking God's name for granted. I seriously meant it. "Oh God, I live in Asia."

**check out the calculator on Google.com. Just go to the main site, type in the conversion, and it'll convert anything from money to liquid, and do math problems too. It is the best when living in a metric country. (try 40 baht to USD)

***This is the container of choice for beggars here. I will never look at them the same again.

****wow, fourth. This is what the Thai's call 7-11. They're everywhere-imagine twice as many Starbucks in Naperville and that would be almost how many sevens. There is one every five minutes, walking speed, anywhere you go.

Bar Hopping: Outreach Style

2005-11-13T23:35:00.000-06:00

I went to go-go bar hopping tonight.

Yup. Me. I'm a female 19-year-old white American college student, and I frequent Bangkok's red-light districts. It's okay though. I go with my parents.Today though, I went with a new American couple. They've been here three weeks, but the husband, Ron, was in Chiang Mai (northern city) for four years a long time ago, so his Thai is great. And then there was Men-ee, a middle-aged Thai women who is adorable. No joke. Even the bar girls kept telling her she was cute. We hit Nana Plaza, which is like an outdoor mall that sells women. It's rather gross...and we just made rounds on the bottom floor. It was a little crowded tonight.

We found a few women that are regular at the english class I teach, and a few not so regular ones. I harped on 'em for not showing up (in thai) and they laughed. Been busy, they say. They always say how busy they are. We stopped at another bar and Men-ee prayed for a woman that dad and I have prayed with before. She's an older bartender, and she has something wrong with her stomach. A miracle would be cool. : )

Next we walked down to Soi 1 Plaza, which is a quieter building with about ten small bars and no go-go dancing. We have a lot of friends at one of these bars, and the Mamasan of another bar likes us a lot. Today she told Ben that if he ever needed to go to the hospital, she'd take him. He was so perplexed by the randomness of that he asked her to repeat it three or four times, in case his Thai was messed up. But that was what she meant, so I guess now he knows where to go...

I talked to a quiet girl, and I'll call her Noi here. She's been in Bangkok for almost 3 weeks, and working at the bar from day one. She has two boys who live with her mom about 10 hours away. She misses them like crazy, calls them every day, hates her job, hates Bangkok.Bingo. She's got "help me get out of here" written all over her.

I turned to Men-ee. "Do you know Noi yet?" I asked her. She replied that she did not, and I introduced them. Men-ee turned around and talked to her for twenty minutes. I think she shared the gospel, or part of it...it was hard to follow with the dance music blaring at us from all sides. Anyway, Noi wants to come visit the Well (our exit program) sometime in the next two weeks. I'm really praying that I will be able to directly help one bar girl leave before I come home in two months, and Noi might be the one. (I think I've indirectly helped about seven, maybe eight. How is that for cool?) Please pray for her! There are a few others at the same bar that I've been friends with for months. Pray for that whole bar, please!

Okay, I'm sleepy. Speaking in Thai for three hours (or trying to speak...) will do that to you. No, I won't come back fluent. But I definitely have a firm grasp. That's right, people. Anna can speak Thai!

Genesis 1:3-5

2005-11-11T01:46:00.000-06:00

...and God said,
"Let there be light,"
and there was light.
God saw that
the light was good,
and he separated the light from the darkness.
God called the light "day" and the darkness he called "night." And there was evening, and there was morning
the first day

He's pretty cool like that, isn't He?

Anonymous Younger Sister's Science Lessons

2005-11-09T06:02:00.000-06:00

Setting: I lounge on my parents' bed, waiting for the Anonymous Kidlets to come upstairs and start school. The schoolroom is my parents' room, you see. The sun pours through the curtains, the air con is on, and Anonymous Younger Sister comes bouncing through the door.

Anonymous Older Sister: Goodmorning, boing boing! (this seemed appropriate, as Anonymous Younger Sister had lept onto the bed with a grin brighter than the sunshine.)

Anonymous Younget Sister: Hello, maggot! (gleeful laughter)

Anonymous Older Sister: Excuse me??? (the sunshine stopped being so bright. The birds stopped singing and the happy twinkly music was no more. Um, okay, that was over the top...)

Anonymous Younger Sister: (giggles) Maggot! I learned it in science yesterday. It's fly larvae! A baby fly! (gleeful laughter)

Anonymous Youngest Child enters the room.

Anonyomous Younger Sister: Hello maggot! (They both go into spasmatic laughing attacks.)

Anonymous Older Sister falls backward onto the pillows, wondering why our society chooses to educate small children, anyway.

The Anonymous Family Strikes Again

2005-10-28T07:00:00.001-05:00

Setting: Friday afternoon, living room. Anonymous Father is on computer, reading news and lamenting over the political situation in the U.S. Anonymous Middle Sister doing homework at a table across the room.

Anonyomous Father: laments loudly over the state of the political situation in the U.S. and then wonders if Kerry would have done a better job.

Anonymous Middle Sister: (drily) I don't think so. Kerry was born on a little planet not called earth, dad.

Minute Maid Field????

2005-10-26T06:58:00.000-05:00

The Sox won. I can't decide if this a good thing or not. My Chicago pride says, YEAH! But my undying love for the Cubbies is still undying. I don't want to be one of those people that just likes whatever team is doing better. I always was a northside girl...

Well, I'm happy. Comment and tell me what you think. But don't be mean. If you do I might delete your comment. That is not fun or happy, and in Anna's Happy Cyberspace Land, everything must be Fun or Happy when Anna deems Funness and Happiness are in order. When a Chicago team is in the World Series and WINNING, Funness and Happiness are most definitely in order.

Besides. Minute Maid Field? What's up with that jazz?

Interview with a Princess

2005-10-23T11:45:00.000-05:00

She came to my free english class last week. I taught her the colors of the rainbow. Her favorite color is red. She's wearing a red shirt. She is in her late twenties. Her smile is shy and tentative, but infectious once it blooms. This is some of what I remember from my conversation with her:

Do you like working in a bar?

No. I do not like.

How long have you worked at [bar]?

Twenty days.

Did you come to Bangkok twenty days ago?

Yes, I came Bangkok same time.

Do you have any children?

Yes I have. One boy.

How old is he?

Five years. His name "ball." His daddy likes football.

Did he come to Bangkok with you?

No, he stay in village.

With your mother?

Yes, my mother and my father.

Do you miss him?

Yes.

Do you like Bangkok?

No. Bangkok is not fun.

Work is not fun?

No. I do not like.

Why do you work in the bar if you do not like it?

For money for son and parents to watch him.

Could you get a different job?

No. Other jobs don't give enough money. Reception, office not enough.

So you must work in the bar?

I think yes.

And you do not like working at the bar?

No. I do not like.

Onward...

2005-10-17T08:46:00.000-05:00

Hmmm.

Today was pretty uneventful. Mondays usually are; it's the first day of the week and it seems like the most difficult task I have is getting Jaimie and Sam to refocus their brains on being educated. It's amazing what two days off will do to the brain of a little muffin. We went down to the health club today and excercised and that was nice too. In a city with almost no public space, a membership to a health club is almost a necessity if you want your muscles to survive potential atrophy. The kids swam, and if you are in the Jaimie and Sam fan club, you will be delighted to know that they are both becoming excellent swimmers. Jaimie can now do two lengths of the olympic sized pool before she gets bored. Her older sister can do twice that...then she gets really bored too. That's why there is a kid pool, right?

Today though, because of my ear infection, I let Dad swim and I read in the Reading Room, which is like a library. I miss libraries. I miss the quiet collective conciousness of concentration and the rustling of pages. I used to haunt libraries; then there was no time--and now there are none to haunt. But I read American magazines and caught up on what's going on politically in Germany right now. Have you looked lately? It's rather interesting. If you like weird stuff like that, check it out.

I forced myself to have a cheerful heart today, and it mostly worked. Sometimes life is hard, and the only thing you can do is "keep a stiff upper lip." Thank you, by the way.

"Life's not a level or a smooth road; but it's a blessing to scale the hills and trudge over the stones with a good heart, and I think one sometimes does one's best work on the uphill bits, though one may not know it." --Amy Carmichael

I hope so. I know I'm blessing my mom right now, and I know she needs it. Sometimes it's hard to see exactly how big the work we're doing is helping someone else, especially when it's just tucking in a child or doing the supper dishes. But guess what? My mom can read Thai now.

who put engagement juice in the water???

2005-10-17T07:09:00.000-05:00

Marc just got married. (already)
Jessie is getting married. (definitely)
Nicole is getting married. (probably)
And some anonymous individual is getting married. (most likely)

What happens when your two best childhood friends decide to try and tie the knot within six months of each other?

You can't help but wonder if you are born under an ill-fated planet. And you start to think a lot. But no one read into that vague statement, please. It really doesn't mean anything exciting. LOVE to my people. You know who you are. (If you don't, then it's if you know me and I love you already. If you aren't sure, count yourself in, because I'm all cool like that. )

[edit: yes, the un-named were Adam and Kami. No, I am not engaged. Not remotely. Talk to me when I get home and then we'll see...]

The Saga Continues...

2005-10-16T22:53:00.000-05:00

So I get better at e-mailing people nice, long e-mails and forget about my blog.
Then the internet dies, and the only computer still in this century is the main one...and Dad's main task right now is programming the girl33 website to sell Christmas cards. When you are programming the internet, you need a computer that will go onto the internet. And when you are my Dad, you work on it whenever possible...so until the network is better, I'm going to be a little out of touch. Which, I'm terribly sorry to say, means less e-mail, and more blog. But I'll keep you posted.

The Christmas cards are FANTASTIC, by the way. I don't know if the site is up as I write this, but it probably will be soon. Check it out.

The past month, October, has been very difficult. There have been some very happy moments--there are two or three new women in the Well's program, and at a girl's camp we held this week for young teens, all six or seven became Christians. Several were from Uthaithani, which you will remember if you are a faithful blog reader--or if you were in Uthai yourself. Miss you guys!

I've been very, very sick for most of this month, and that has been really hard. Serving anyone is difficult when you feel horrible inside. I've also been feeling very discouraged, though not about anything in particular. Feeling lousy and feeling down do not make for the happiest Anna in Thailand, and I really need prayer in this area. I've felt okay for the past three days, but I'm still not healthy or whole. I've also been dealing with a lot of worries about how things will look when I come back. I'll need a car, and school, and most likely will be quite broke by then. I'm still trying to raise support for my time here, since my earlier fundraising brought in very little--not near enough to even cover my plane ticket. If you feel led to give in any way, please comment and I will get an e-mail to you.

Jaimie and Sam are doing really well with school. We are learning about mammals, fractions, and Bzyantines. They're definitely great kids, and I love being able to hang with them after being gone for a year. I'm going to be sad to come home, which I suppose means come back to Aurora. Home is such a strange idea right now. Here or there...or everywhere?

Well, that's a short little piece of my heart right now. It's not very well-written or well-edited because it's late, but I wanted everyone (all 4 people who read this!) to know what was up. I miss you all.

Please keep praying. I need it more than you know. And please write or comment. I need to know you are backing me up. It encourages me. Thanks.

random blatherings

2005-10-11T07:34:00.000-05:00

ugh. Too may headaches!

Still feeling unda' de wedda'...and really, really dizzy. I'm not sure why, but I think maybe I'm allergic to the pollution and it is causing me to be congested somewhere in my head that causes me to be dizzy. Whatever the reason, it is NO fun to be walking around Bangkok in all the swirling confusion and have the world wobble in your eyes. Pray for me if you have a moment...

Ummm...in other news...I walked two miles yesterday to escape traffic. Yep. My cab didn't move for thirty minutes so I got out and walked. Yep. It was raining. Yep. I was dizzy back then too. But I made it. Yepyep. I had fun too. I went to see Ben at BSC, the school he's teaching at, and hung out with some students. It was worth it. It wasn't raining that hard. Yepyepyep.

In still other news...Marquita had a tooth pulled and two fillings done today. Jaimie and I are making a fairy house. Jaimie told me she loved me six times today. Marquita asked me to get her tylenol. I love those two kids. (Oh, yeah, it sounds like Marquita just uses me--that's not true. She just didn't exactly have a cheerful day. I don't blame her! She told me she loved me this morning and gave me a hug too.)

In still more other news...Ben visits me on Saturdays. Happy Anna.

kloveyoubyepeople!

Hope vs. Detroit

2005-10-11T07:12:00.000-05:00

1 Peter 3:15
"Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have."

I have a hope the darkness cannot cover, cannot linger, cannot overcome.

I have a hope that the sun will rise, that rain will fall, that children will smile, and that my God will forever be good.

I have a hope in light. A promise, clung to even in the depths; that there is something more, something better

I will stretch out my hands in darkness, straining in the hope that my fingertips will reach something bigger than myself.

I hope. I believe. My God will not fail me.

Oh, yeah...
In the kitchen as I do dishes:
Luke (enters room while speaking, gazing at the ceiling): What do you think the penalty would be for setting off an atomic bomb?

Me: (I don't even turn from the sink. No hot water in THA, but a lot of suds) Death. Lots of death.

Luke: (he's really considering this) I mean, would it be treason, or just defacing property?

Me: Felony. Definitely a felony.

Luke: What if I did it somewhere that no one hung out at? Like Detroit?

And that, ladies and gents, is that.

Be warned, he actually does want to take over the world, aided by his trusty sidekick, Bob, who is invisible, lives in a trash can, and still (two years after Luke introduced him) thinks that Nichole is cute. And that's the truth.

my heart is on the ground.

2005-10-04T07:49:00.000-05:00

I quit doing heart updates awhile ago. I guess it was the same a lot, and got boring! Oh well.
Things are really rough right now. On a lot of levels. The three people that read this already know most of them...so I'm not going into details. I guess it's stuff I've done (or not done)...stuff others have done (or not done) to me, and stuff others have done (or not done) to others that ends up affecting me. I've been crying a lot. I mean a lot.

No, it's not depression. I'm used to dealing with that, and I know how to get out of it. It's more like discouragement. The world has so many people doing stuff (or not doing stuff) and everyone hurts everyone and everyone hurts themselves. I don't know why I'd be exempt from all that...I'm not.

It just doesn't seem much like the fairy tale I wanted. Where is my castle? I am wandering. Where is my dragon? Oh...far too easily found. Where is my prince? Fighting many, many, many battles. Yes, he fights for me. But his heart is so heavy... Where is my King? He is here. But I still cry...I still feel alone.

how do you fight like a girl?

2005-10-03T05:12:00.000-05:00

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about fighting. Not the irksome quarreling that goes on in daily life, but the bigger, meaner battle that goes on just outside of the everyday we see.

Father Christmas told Susan and Lucy to only use their weapons only "in great need." For, he says, "battles are ugly when women fight."

Certainly that is true in this physical world. There is something very horrible about a woman dying in battle. It is as though war is an arena of strength and yes, brutality, neither of which conjur up many feminine images. There are strong women, both evil and good, and yes, there are brutal women. But I know that I am neither one of these. I am only strong when I am supported, and brutality of any type is unthinkable to me.

And yet..."our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." (Ephesians 6:12 NIV)

I am certainly able to fight these battles. I am most definitely able to advance the kingdom of God. I am well equipped.

The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. (2 Corinthians 10:4)

I know this. I know that I have the weapons and the armor to fight, and that I have the ability to succeed. But how do I, as a girl, go about that? You see, I don't want to fight. I like shining lights in dark places...but destroying strongholds? Good night. I have some tea to make. I need five or six nice strong boys to...nope. As tempting as I find that (run away and someone will protect me while I drink a good hot cup of earl grey) I know that that is not the answer.

But what is the answer? Lucy healed with her potion and Susan sounded the alarm. Peter killed the Chief Wolf and Edmund snapped the wand of the witch. So what do I do when I am faced with White Witches and Chief Wolves? Blow a horn? Yes...and no.

I am protected by many wonderful men who love God and serve him, fighting for him daily. God has given them the strength to do so. And when I need it, they fight for me. But I want to fight too. I want to kick some evil butt. But I don't like it. I'm squeamish, I'm prissy, I hate being bloody.

I suppose I have a question and no answer yet. Sigh. I'll keep going.

The Continuing Adventures of Anonymous Family

2005-09-26T07:44:00.000-05:00

Setting: The anonymous dinner table, this time eating anonymous chicken steak sandwiches.

Anonymous Youngest Child begins pouring himself the milk. Reader should note that he has already succeeded in pouring the water all over the table before the events illustrated below.

Anonymous Older Brother: (believing that Anonymous Youngest Child might suffer from inadaquate depth perception) Hey, watch it! Let me help you! (Anonymous Youngest Child ignores him) Stop it!

Anonymous Little Sister: Hey, Anonymous Youngest Child, STOP! (Anonymous Youngest Child ignores her)

Anonymous Middle Sister and Anonymous Older Sister: (in stereo) Stop! (Anonymous Youngest Child proceeds to pour the milk)

Anonymous Siblings: Stop! (Anonymous Youngest Child wrinkles his nose and continues to pour. The glass wiggles ominously.)

Anonymous Older Brother: (stops shrieking like female siblings) Okay, look, let me do it. (takes glass and milk and pours it)

Anonymous Middle Sister: (condescendingly) Anonymous Youngest Child, you need to listen when people are talking to you. You already spilled the--

Anonymous Older Brother, Older Sister, and Little Sister: (in a tone of "can it already, chica") Anonymous Middle Sister...

Anonymous Middle Sister: Okay, okay. (Anonymous Youngest Child has developed a milk mustache)

Anonymous Father: You know, Anonymous Mother, I think they don't need us anymore. They can self-parent now.

Anonymous Little Sister: (grins like a jack 'o lantern) Does that mean Anonymous Middle Sister has to do whatever I say?

Anonymous Middle Sister: (ready to leap across the cucumbers and strangle Anonymous Little Sister) Oh, don't you even try that on me! You just...

The Anonymous Parents decide that the children might need a little more parenting after all. Anonymous Older Sister does the dishes.

The Love Life of Anonymous Little Sister

2005-09-18T07:47:00.000-05:00

Setting: An anonymous family is eating anonymous stir-fry around an anonymous dinner table. The anonymous conversation drifts toward very anonymous guys.

Anonymous Middle Sister: Well, I think Anonymous Little Sister likes So&So.

Anonymous Little Sister: I do not!

Anonymous Middle Sister: You said he was cute! I saw him and he got his hair cut now.

Anonymous Mother: (realizes what the Anonymous sisters are talking about) Anonymous Little Sister is starting to like boys? When did I miss that one?

Anonymous Little Sister: Well, I only kind of do. Sometimes I look at So&So and I'm all like, "Whoa." (pauses for dramatic effect, eyes wide. Or maybe now is a 'whoa' moment) And then the next time I see him I'm like, "Eeeeewww." (makes a face and sticks tongue out) But then I see him again and I'm all like "Whoa." (pauses and contemplates the ceiling for a moment) Maybe it's because I don't get enough sleep at night. That's probably it.

This re-telling is Anonymous by the demands of Anonymous Little Sister. May she live forever.

The Education of the Anonymous Short Ones

2005-09-14T03:45:00.000-05:00

Scene 1:

Anonymous Youngest Child: (reading his science book) "Oh, that's why I have spit in my mouth. I always wondered why I had spit in my mouth."

Anonymous Little Sister: "Saliva, Youngest Child. Saliva."

Week three of the Education of the Anonymous Short People has begun.Though their science books are different, they run along similar tracks, so right now they are both learning about...digestion! Oh yeah, it's that exciting. What else would cause a ten-year-old to spend the entire time she was eating lunch trying to swallow holding onto her tongue (to see if she could because her book said she couldn't) and an eight-year-old to stare at a mirror saying "aaaaaahhhhhhhh" for a good five minutes in order to see his uvula (that thing that hangs down in the back of your throat that you always see when cartoon characters scream)

Scene 2:

Anonymous Youngest Child is staring out of the window instead of concentrating like a good little boy should on his lovely little math lesson.

Me: (fearing another school day iiinnnncccchhhiiinng till 4 o'clock) Youngest Child? Hey! Youngest Child! (he jumps, startled.) Can I close the curtain for you so that you don't get distracted and stare out the window?

Anonymous Youngest Child: (eyes wide in horror) No! That wouldn't help! If you did that then I would just stare at the curtain!

Anonymous Little Sister: (from across the room) Youngest Child, you are so weird.

Scene 3:

Setting: School Room/Parent's Room. Anonymous Youngest Child is working at his desk. I am sitting on the bed grading math. Anonymous Little Sister is on the floor cutting up magazines for a project about eating good food. Rain falls steadily into the flooded street in the background.

Aononymous Youngest Child: (reading his science book) "Speaking of digestion, I really need to go to the bathroom!" (he jumps up and runs out of the room. Little Sister and I exchange a Glance.)

Yes, we are still in the mysterious world of digestion. We've moved away from the mouth and are now learning all about the amazing, wonderous tube known as the small intestine, which we discovered is 23 ft. long. The large intestine is only about 7ft. long. So then we had to figure out why they gave them such misnomers...trust me, you don't want to know. But Youngest Child did. I just want to stop moving along. It's getting kind of gross. Why don't people photosynthesize?
It's still raining.

And that was just science.

Ben left today to live on his own. I miss him. He's teaching English over near Phaya Thai, about 40 minutes away from me over here in Bang Na. To get there you take a mini pickup truck down to the main road (from the soi to the thanon) and then a bus to the skytrain. Then you take the skytrain from On Nut to Phaya Thai and walk across the intersection. The whole trip costs around $1.25 (cheaper if you take an un-airconditioned bus.)
Now I have a bad headache, probably another sinus thing brought on by the nasty smog the stupid buses create. But I'll drink water and if it gets bad enough, take meds...though that will knock me out good.

My Little Sister: Fashion Maven

2005-09-13T09:53:00.000-05:00

My sister Jaimie is ten. If you don't know my family, she is fourth in a line of five kids, of which I am the oldest. She's pretty cute as kids go, with a killer smile. She's homeschooled, and lives in Thailand. Right now she's on a Shakespeare kick and is reading through Much Ado about Nothing. Okay, I'm sure you can see her in your mind. She's a ten year old homeschooled missionary kid living on the other side of the world who is so socially inept that she likes reading Shakespeare.

No...not hardly.

Jaimie woke up this morning and did her hair in pigtails--low ones behind her ears. She carefully let two strands hang over her face. Over that she slid on my brother's navy blue knit beanie (we live in a tropical climate, k?) and put on dark blue boot cut jeans (because she won't wear anything but boot-cut) and a crimson shirt that says "I Bite" in rhinestones. To top it off, she adds a decidely gothic choker. Where did she get that? So imagine this...a little punked out ten year old reading Shakespeare and singing Newsies songs at the top of her lungs.

Me: Jaimie, where did you learn to dress like that?

Jaimie: I made it up.

Me: No you did not. That is totally a TV look. Did you get it from a movie?

Jaimie: Nope. I made it up.

Me: Do you have friends that dress like that?

Jaimie. Nope. I made it up. I just thought it would all look cool together.

So, if anyone knows where my silly, cute sister went, let me know. Although the silly, cute, fashion maven is certainly adorable. Just a little...frightening.

doo bee doo bee dooooo

2005-08-26T05:55:00.000-05:00

So. The Question of the Day.

Where did it go? The answer? Irrelevant...

I'm learning to play the piano and I'm kind of good at it. Despite never touching an instrument except the piano to the point that I could play anything resembling a song (and the piano experience comes from when I was six and Daddy taught me Do, a Deer from the Sound of Music with one finger) I actually have something of an ear for it. I guess.

Everyone always comments on the oddity of a father who is a brilliantly talented musician with five children, none of whom play anything but computer games. There must be a reason for this...I suppose it's that we never had lessons. Why not? Because Dad could teach us. But he never did. Brilliant people have trouble explaining their brilliance you see. This is why we have jargon in the world.

Jargon is so that the brilliant people who are insecure in their brilliance because they cannot explain it can feel like they are brilliant despite their lack of interpersonal skills.
Not that my Dad has poor interpersonal skills--far from it. It's just hard to listen to a child thunk piano keys really slowly. But brilliance and jargon and my Daddy are not why I'm writing. They are the unedited flow of my mind...which seems to flow and is enabled in a rather unhealthy way by the ellipses... ... ... those lovely friendly looking triple dots.

I'm writing to say that I'm learning to play the piano. And I like it. So now I like writing and drawing and dancing and playing music. Jill of all hobbies and master of none.

sigh

2005-08-05T11:48:00.000-05:00

Today I took five children and Luke from the water park to a concert with Ben.

In Bangkok.

I still know where all the children are, amazingly. And Luke will show up eventually, I'm sure...I left my house at six am, came back to get the children very quickly, then did water park, concert, bar, concert, english...and got everyone safely home by 10:30 pm. I'm DEAD.

g'night...whoever reads this...

Just give me the money, nice and easy like...

2005-07-31T09:58:00.000-05:00

So I'm learning thai.

Rein poot pasae thai. Poot dai nit noy.

But I can ask you what kind of bills you have. As in do you have 20 B bills, 50 B bills, or 1000 B bills.
Khun mii baang aray kha?
(What bills do you have)

Dichan mii baang yii-sip (20) kap roy (100) kha.
(I have 20 bills and 100 bills)

Khun mii baang yii-sip tao rai kha?
(How many 20 bills do you have)

Dichan mii baang yii-sip sam bay kha?
(I have 3 20 B bills.)

I have three twenty baht bills, basically. So now (because we're supposed to be practicing our thai with actail thais) Ben and I are going to ask all the people on the BTS (Bangkok's El train) what kind of bills they have and how many of each kind.We just need to learn how to say "We're trying to decide who to rob" first.

Dichan mii paakaa sii dang song an paakaa sii som nung an kap dinsaw sii dam hok an. (I have two red pens, two orange pens and six black pencils. Points to any non-thai speaker who can guess which words are which.)

Hello, Cambodia??

2005-07-11T10:00:00.000-05:00

I have now been to Cambodia!

1. I rode a tour bus

2.Walked through begger children with beggar children (smaller versions) tied to their backs and didn't let them pickpocket me.

3. Stood in a line for a rubber ink stamp (like those beautiful cards my Lindsey makes but much harder to come by.)

4. Had a digital picture taken (which websites say is viewed by the FBI in under two minutes. But they aren't looking for a brunette with a ponytail. They're looking for a brunette with a beard and a little white hat.)

5. Had lunch at a casino that was AMAZING. I bet it's better than the one in Aurora.

6. Had a Chocolate Cruch [sic] Frappe at the Starbucks rip off joint. It even had the pretty lights and the logo was this (holds up fingers about a cm apart) close.

7. Got back on the bus. So now I've been to Cambodia. It was fun.One border run down. 6 to go.

Oh, to be a missionary kid

2005-06-13T10:02:00.000-05:00

I'm in Thailand, in case you didn't know.

My brother just beat me a lot at boggle and now he's watching me type this. He finds it extremely fascinating. He also finds my hair extremely fascinating when I put it up in a messy, curly bun. Or two of them. It's rather odd to have your little (17) year old brother stare at the back of your head going,"It's so intricate." and then continuing to stare and poke it.

Or to have him chuckle to himself as you write the blog entry that is about him, then to have him stop chuckling when he reads my comments on it, then become very self-concious and not know whether to laugh because I said he wasn't or not to because I said he was.

He would also like to inform "them" by which, I assume, he means the readers of this blog entry, that he has a cough.Then he proclaims to himself "I am so cute" and then cackles, but by now the chuckles are becoming guffaws and I'm starting to giggle a little myself. Besides, now he's performing for all of you. So I'll stop that now.

At the dinner Jaimie was talking about how few Americans there were in her international VBS. Mom disagreed--"What about those two little--"Jaimie cut her off. "Oh, no mom. Shana and Mari are Chineelians."

joy for despair

2005-05-17T15:24:00.000-05:00

when we live in darkness...

Negativity. It is an easy trap to fall into. We are surrounded by blacks and grays and often fail to love the light because we become consumed with hating the darkness. This doesn't get rid of anything...the darkness is still dark and bad things don't lose any badness by being complained about. The hating just brings about more black feelings...

What is it to be joyful? I don't think it's incessant optimism or plastic smiles. Joy is rooted more deeply than that. It is the hope that no matter how discouraging things are, the sun will rise. The King will return. The blackness will fade as the stars explode like fireworks and explode around our ears.

But hope is not enough. We could hope forever, but if we never saw these things happen...we would still be in the darkness. Joy is the ability to take notice of the light and to be given over to it so that the darkness' only use is to remind us how bright the light can be.

So seek beauty. Seek light. Stop complaining and arguing so that you can shine like a star. Then explode.

we must not become it.

MAY

2005-05-11T10:04:00.000-05:00

Wow, it's been a while. Nearly a month. I hope all two of my faithful readers have not lost hope.

IT'S MAY! My favorite non-person person is finally here.

The candle trees amd the lilacs bloomed. My heart finds a lot of solace in the yumminess of lilacs and the friendly glory of the candle trees.

It thunderstormed all last night and kept me awake. The sky was eerie and green and made me very creepy-feeling inside. I love thunderstorms in the day...there is something comforting in the majestic power of my God...but at night I feel like a child. I'm not scared of the lightning, nor the thunder, nor tornadoes or high winds, but I still feel small and unhappy.

But no more. The sky is still gloom-ridden, and the front was a cold one so the wind is chilly and I had to wear my denim jacket but that's okay, because I look rather adorable in it...

And I finished school. 42 credit hours later and I still have a 4.0. And no all-nighters this semester! Good for me! Wheeeeeee! Flying on freedom!

Okay, all you guys, eventually I'm moving to Thailand for six months and I'm doing a specifically for thailand blog and you can see it if you click here.

yep.

heart is...above those blasted clouds.

Running

2005-03-21T21:41:00.000-06:00

I have a desire to run until my heart explodes and I fall completely unable to move. To completely expend myself and then to lie facedown on the ground, the night around me, and the cold air filling my tired lungs.

I don't know why.

Do I run to or from? Sometimes both. Sometimes I want to run away and away, never looking back, always pressing on. But I can't. There is a voice in the center of my head that quietly commands, "Go back, Anna. Sit down." just as I press my hands to the door. If I try to ignore that, there is an audible voice and very real hands that won't let me run. Sometimes I just want to bolt.

Other times I want to run toward something. I want to pursue, and to be chased, all at once. I want to run till my heart explodes. And I want to fly too. I want to leap around like a child in the backyard catching fireflies until bedtime. 'Cept my fireflies are joy and peace and love and hope and Jesus.

But really, I don't know why. I just want to run until I can't.

Looking at the Sky

2005-03-18T01:17:00.000-06:00

...because nothing will burst until we get beyond ourselves.

I want to see hearts whole. I want to see a world that has ceased groaning and crying and instead is satisfied. I want to see Christ touch this planet.

Yet we worry about our lives. Countless minutia bog us down and instead of reaching for the light free falling above us, we stare at the ground, wondering where all the light went. I am learning to look up, into the sky...to seek the light instead of what I want. Yes. Instead of what I want.

What I want will go away. The little things. My little dreams are so little. But what God wants...and what I want because of God...will not fade. I want to see hearts become whole and even more precious to Jesus. I want joy on formerly empty faces.

I do this even with my faith. I delve too deeply into the details of me and God, and I become consumed, then, with the minutia of faith. Ironically, it is as soon as I begin that that I lose hope, for what hope can be found in picking apart details? Hope comes from loving God and loving Light. Seeking out beauty in darkness. Finding strength for fear. Recieving gladness when grief is overbearing. This is light. This is God. His name is Love.

So from there, I begin. I love. I love God. I love people. I love my jobs. I love my school and schoolwork. I love God. I look up. I chase the little star pieces until I can catch them in my hands and hold them, sparkly, shiny. And I can show them to the world, one heart at a time.

flecks of gold

2005-03-15T20:04:00.000-06:00

I know that when real stars expolde all kinds of exciting things happen regarding black holes and supernovas and all sorts of things my brother could probably tell you about. He's the one who made it through Stephen Hawking.

I'm talking about light shattering and spreading across space, filling darkness with flecks of gold. Words and ideas...precious pieces of hope in a space so cold it sometimes forgets the gold flecks.

Time for the stars to explode.