27.1.10
The Sport of Grandmas
Does anyone know of a group of grandmas that gets together around here to gossip and sit around and get stiff knees and knit? I'm looking to join in on the fun for Literary Journalism. I want to gossip with them, learn knew knitting tricks, hear about the time grandpa nearly mowed his foot off back in '63, and then write it all up. For real. That's probably going to be my topic. So if you know of anyone like that...
26.1.10
Short
I can't think of a story to experience or research and then write for the semester.
But The Right Stuff by Tom Wolfe is superb so far. This guy knows his descriptions and metaphors. And quite a vocabulary. I ran into a word I noticed several weeks ago again in chapter one: lugubrious. "Looking or sounded sad and dismal."
Am I in a lugubrious situation regarding my topic-choosing difficulties? Or is my heart lugubrious? Or am I experiencing lugubrious feelings? Not exactly sure.
But The Right Stuff by Tom Wolfe is superb so far. This guy knows his descriptions and metaphors. And quite a vocabulary. I ran into a word I noticed several weeks ago again in chapter one: lugubrious. "Looking or sounded sad and dismal."
Am I in a lugubrious situation regarding my topic-choosing difficulties? Or is my heart lugubrious? Or am I experiencing lugubrious feelings? Not exactly sure.
25.1.10
The Magers Meeting and Other Annoying Things
Magers stopped me today and basically said Nate and I either have to find a roommate (or two?) or find somewhere else to live. That's how I took it, anyway, but I'm not too assertive or anything, so maybe he just took advantage of me. Ironically, he bumped into me in the Student Center while I stood dumbfounded at story that was playing on CNN about some teen who had raped a woman on the side of the road (SIDE OF THE ROAD) in broad daylight and no one (NO ONE) stopped to help. One lady called the police.
What a sick world. I thought about what I would have done had I been passing by. I honestly don't know. But I really hope I would be aware enough to at least notice if a woman was being raped. I mean, I doubt she was enjoying it or that it was quiet or unsuspicious-looking. Teen. Woman. Side of road. What!?!? Dang.
Adrienne and I have been working a bit on our Communication Club's budget and such, because paperwork for it is due tomorrow. Well, crap. Unfortunately, our club is pretty lame (don't tell anyone, and I apologize if this offends anyone who may randomly read this. I am an officer, so I feel like I have a little bit of leeway in the matter of opinion toward the club.). We don't really do much all year. We don't charge dues (although we are possibly changing this as we type, so to speak...er...type). We don't have good attendance. We don't do many things as a club. We don't have any club spirit. We don't have any recognition from other students. It's pretty sad. Ideally, in my head at least, the Communication Club could be a strong force behind campus-wide discussion, behind getting news out to the dorms and to the community students, about keeping some kind of connection between our faculty and students (of our department specifically). I imagine us watching good journalism movies (we're watching State of Play in class tomorrow!) together while eating sugary snacks and drinking caffeinated beverages like the stereotypes seem to do in the movies themselves. I imagine us bonding over a good discussion of media ethics or new journalism. I imagine posters and photos and articles decking the walls of our first floor domain so that we can enjoy our talents and encourage one another to strive for the top. I imagine us trying to learn how to be objective in our truth-securing methods of reporting, of always vowing to work for the citizen and for the truth, not for the publication owner's who want the money.
Instead, our officers make sandwiches and pour drinks for the convocations (that aren't as top-notch all the time as they could be). We are all super busy seniors who have no time to improve this potentially amazing club. We would all like for it to be awesome, but we can't do it. We need the support of other students in our department. We need the support of our faculty. Basically, I need to stop ranting because my eyes are already bloodshot and midnight is still three and a half minutes away and no one needs to read all this. So if you made it this far, God bless you. You are good to me. Goodnight.
What a sick world. I thought about what I would have done had I been passing by. I honestly don't know. But I really hope I would be aware enough to at least notice if a woman was being raped. I mean, I doubt she was enjoying it or that it was quiet or unsuspicious-looking. Teen. Woman. Side of road. What!?!? Dang.
Adrienne and I have been working a bit on our Communication Club's budget and such, because paperwork for it is due tomorrow. Well, crap. Unfortunately, our club is pretty lame (don't tell anyone, and I apologize if this offends anyone who may randomly read this. I am an officer, so I feel like I have a little bit of leeway in the matter of opinion toward the club.). We don't really do much all year. We don't charge dues (although we are possibly changing this as we type, so to speak...er...type). We don't have good attendance. We don't do many things as a club. We don't have any club spirit. We don't have any recognition from other students. It's pretty sad. Ideally, in my head at least, the Communication Club could be a strong force behind campus-wide discussion, behind getting news out to the dorms and to the community students, about keeping some kind of connection between our faculty and students (of our department specifically). I imagine us watching good journalism movies (we're watching State of Play in class tomorrow!) together while eating sugary snacks and drinking caffeinated beverages like the stereotypes seem to do in the movies themselves. I imagine us bonding over a good discussion of media ethics or new journalism. I imagine posters and photos and articles decking the walls of our first floor domain so that we can enjoy our talents and encourage one another to strive for the top. I imagine us trying to learn how to be objective in our truth-securing methods of reporting, of always vowing to work for the citizen and for the truth, not for the publication owner's who want the money.
Instead, our officers make sandwiches and pour drinks for the convocations (that aren't as top-notch all the time as they could be). We are all super busy seniors who have no time to improve this potentially amazing club. We would all like for it to be awesome, but we can't do it. We need the support of other students in our department. We need the support of our faculty. Basically, I need to stop ranting because my eyes are already bloodshot and midnight is still three and a half minutes away and no one needs to read all this. So if you made it this far, God bless you. You are good to me. Goodnight.
24.1.10
Flag of My Father
This evening I finally spent quite a bit of time working on my wall. It's pretty much done now, except for the work that will continue on it throughout the semester, which was the plan to begin with (notes, lists, quotes, portraits, et cetera).
Thanks to the Turners for the painting tape and idea.
Everyone is welcome to come and see it, but there is a charge. The fee is a five-minute visit with me. They do not have to be scheduled, but unless you do schedule, you come at the risk of an unopened door.
Here is a photo of the real flag. Apparently the faces can be slightly different. I based mine off of the cape/flag that I have.
Thanks to the Turners for the painting tape and idea.
Everyone is welcome to come and see it, but there is a charge. The fee is a five-minute visit with me. They do not have to be scheduled, but unless you do schedule, you come at the risk of an unopened door.
Here is a photo of the real flag. Apparently the faces can be slightly different. I based mine off of the cape/flag that I have.
And here's a link to the history of the Argentine flag: history here.
19.1.10
Ribbit Privet Private Shmivate Privy Shmivy
I've downed on Community Service day my whole life. When I was a baby, I would make thumbs-down signs in my baby food and then mumble something which sounds like "Cuh-woo-knitty Sew-viss"on the old family videos. I can't even remember if I've ever participated before this year, although I feel like there may have been that one time. But today was fun. I pulled a lot of privet. And I will probably keep downing on Community Service day.
But today was also a small example to myself of how I actually have been growing the past few years since high school, for example. I said OK to going on a not-as-cool-as-the-project-that-200-students-are-doing project with several people that I don't know. I sat in a car with them all the way there, even saying a few words. And then, when we got there, I even got to know them a little better, laughing with them and making the most of our privet-filled lives. We worked hard and enjoyed it, following it all up with eating together outside of Hulsey. Shoooot, that's improvement for me.
Sometimes, for me, when I look hard enough I see small things that remind me that I am actually, one of these days, sometime in the future, not too afar off, eventually, coming soon to a Christoffer near you, going to be a more-or-less what they sometimes call "grown up." It's true, the first graders at Spalding sometimes think I'm a grown up. And maybe my future cat will think so, too. But there is still too much comparing going on in my own head for me to consider myself one of those "adults." When that stops, and I'm OK with being less adept at sociability (et cetera) than other "people," then I'll be "happy" with the "way" I "am." Quote unquote. In other words, in seven minutes and forty seconds it will be Tuesday morning. Tuesday will be a busy day. I'm scared to do the interview necessary to write the profile necessary to turn one in on Thursday necessary to please the teacher's syllabus standards necessary to receive a grade necessary for passing the class necessary for my overall satisfaction. I'm worried that I won't even get the interview DONE. Oh my lands.
I'm not even close to being a "grown up." Start reading this over again, and then don't read it at all. This was for me.
But today was also a small example to myself of how I actually have been growing the past few years since high school, for example. I said OK to going on a not-as-cool-as-the-project-that-200-students-are-doing project with several people that I don't know. I sat in a car with them all the way there, even saying a few words. And then, when we got there, I even got to know them a little better, laughing with them and making the most of our privet-filled lives. We worked hard and enjoyed it, following it all up with eating together outside of Hulsey. Shoooot, that's improvement for me.
Sometimes, for me, when I look hard enough I see small things that remind me that I am actually, one of these days, sometime in the future, not too afar off, eventually, coming soon to a Christoffer near you, going to be a more-or-less what they sometimes call "grown up." It's true, the first graders at Spalding sometimes think I'm a grown up. And maybe my future cat will think so, too. But there is still too much comparing going on in my own head for me to consider myself one of those "adults." When that stops, and I'm OK with being less adept at sociability (et cetera) than other "people," then I'll be "happy" with the "way" I "am." Quote unquote. In other words, in seven minutes and forty seconds it will be Tuesday morning. Tuesday will be a busy day. I'm scared to do the interview necessary to write the profile necessary to turn one in on Thursday necessary to please the teacher's syllabus standards necessary to receive a grade necessary for passing the class necessary for my overall satisfaction. I'm worried that I won't even get the interview DONE. Oh my lands.
17.1.10
Sketchy flips
I saw this clip today. I thought it was pretty swell. It's only 45 seconds long. Check it:
Parkour Motion Reel
Besides that, I don't have anything much else to say. I had curly hair today. Alyssa is going to write for the religion page. I'm going to go pull privet tomorrow. The book that I'm supposed to finish reading by Wednesday just shipped today (la-hAME).
I am also going to post, however, the little snippet I needed to write for this week's Accent. It's short, but relevant for these days, and I figured the verses are good, too, and people may enjoy a reminder of some good stuff:
Parkour Motion Reel
Besides that, I don't have anything much else to say. I had curly hair today. Alyssa is going to write for the religion page. I'm going to go pull privet tomorrow. The book that I'm supposed to finish reading by Wednesday just shipped today (la-hAME).
I am also going to post, however, the little snippet I needed to write for this week's Accent. It's short, but relevant for these days, and I figured the verses are good, too, and people may enjoy a reminder of some good stuff:
“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality,” (Romans 12:9-13, NIV).
For me, these are the perfect words of Scripture to look upon during the recent happenings in our school family and in Haiti.
Cling to what is good. Perhaps it is difficult to find anything good about a destructive earthquake, except that we can see hundreds of thousands of people responding with aid, prayer and financial support, as well as Haitians still singing together on CNN.
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction. The death of those we know and hold dear is never anything we can take easily. But we have an encouraging God who gives us hope and promises renewed relationships and a second life.
Keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. In these “valley” experiences, serving our Lord through service keeps us in tune with His mission and His message. The Gospel is never made more clear—to others and to us—than when it is lived out through our lives.
Continue to be “devoted to one another in brotherly love.” Jesus is coming soon.
15.1.10
"IIIIIIII just waasted... ten seconds ooof your liiiife." -Relient K
I decided that I don't have anything to say, that I'm tired, that my bed is lonely waiting for me, and so I'm not going to write anything.
Oops.
Oops.
14.1.10
Freedom of the Press
I'm currently burrowed deep in the library's veins, trying to keep my forehead from becoming too tense and my eyes somewhat moist under this absurd draft of chilly air constantly moving passed. I'm preparing for a debate tomorrow in Mass Comm and Society class. I'm to argue that we have enough freedom of the press in this country. The more I read, the more I actually agree with this statement. I did not choose this side of the debate, instead leaving it open for the other person to choose which side they cared for and thus, taking the opposing viewpoint. I'm glad she picked the other one. Here is an exceedingly interesting interview with a man who knows the context of the current debate on freedom of the press. At least, he did in 2005. I suppose he very well could know more now.
This is the cool article, in case you're interested. I recommend especially the last paragraph, if nothing else (although, it may not be as meaningful when you're not reading the whole article, studying print journalism, and currently in three classes that involve a lot of what journalism is about--in which case, I don't mean to bore you).
This is the cool article, in case you're interested. I recommend especially the last paragraph, if nothing else (although, it may not be as meaningful when you're not reading the whole article, studying print journalism, and currently in three classes that involve a lot of what journalism is about--in which case, I don't mean to bore you).
13.1.10
Pencil Pusher
Today in Literary Journalism, I presented my idea of a story: that I would try and go through the whole semester turning in only handwritten homework. I could use my computer for research and I was thinking even drafts, but the final product had to be handwritten. I'm curious as to whether it would be even possible for a student who was perhaps religiously against computers, for example, to even get through college without one. I doubt it. And that raises a question for me as to why that is. I'm sure fifty years ago everyone was just a superhero who could handwrite 80 words a minute, spellcheck and fact check and proofread and research just as much as we do today. Or not.
I'm not going to do that, unless it was for a week or something. But I think it's a neat thing to think about. At least for me.
I'm not going to do that, unless it was for a week or something. But I think it's a neat thing to think about. At least for me.
12.1.10
Earthquakes make me tremble, too
I saw Jacque post something on fb about it being busy at work because of an earthquake in Haiti. I saw a big picture and story on the home page of BBC. I read about a 7.3 magnitude earthquake that shook Port-au-Prince up. I read about people panicking, rushing into streets, holding onto anything they could, bleeding from the orifices of their head; about houses sliding into valleys and the U.N. Mission being destroyed and several peacekeepers missing; and then I finally saw a little bit about who is helping. It takes time to figure out how and where and when and who to help, and people seemed to be right on it. Obama already had a quote about his thoughts and prayers being with the Haitians and that America is standing by to help. And I believe there are already dispatches of aid groups heading down. People are good and news is quick. And Haitians are incredibly poor.
I guess it's just neat to me to be studying journalism, and see a story like this unfold while I'm reading a book called "The Elements of Journalism." News is changing. The way we perceive it, the way it happens, what it's about, and who is reading the news. Well, now reading is only a fraction of the variety of ways we ingest the news.
Unfortunately, people in Haiti had to be hurt and dying and losing out on everything to get onto my news radar. What's important to me these days? Where do I turn for news? For truth? Is it OK to not be up-to-speed with all that's happening in the world? What is knowing these tidbits of information that we glance at during our day good for? Is it changing us? How? How is it helping others? Is that its goal? Or is the news purely to provide something to converse about, letting us, the people, do the dialoguing and interpreting and acting?
I'm going to bed. I won't answer any of these questions tonight. Maybe not any of them ever.
I guess it's just neat to me to be studying journalism, and see a story like this unfold while I'm reading a book called "The Elements of Journalism." News is changing. The way we perceive it, the way it happens, what it's about, and who is reading the news. Well, now reading is only a fraction of the variety of ways we ingest the news.
Unfortunately, people in Haiti had to be hurt and dying and losing out on everything to get onto my news radar. What's important to me these days? Where do I turn for news? For truth? Is it OK to not be up-to-speed with all that's happening in the world? What is knowing these tidbits of information that we glance at during our day good for? Is it changing us? How? How is it helping others? Is that its goal? Or is the news purely to provide something to converse about, letting us, the people, do the dialoguing and interpreting and acting?
I'm going to bed. I won't answer any of these questions tonight. Maybe not any of them ever.
11.1.10
Megan: Friend or foe?
It's almost midnight already. I feel like I've been sitting in this chair for weeks. It's only been a few hours. Ordering books from the internet is such an adventure. I get to check out new sites that Adam showed me (half.com, betterworldbooks.com) and try to find books that feel better. What sucks is that I get to buy them out of my own checking account, not Mom's. That's OK though. I feel like it's my contribution to my bill, since the padres have been dutifully paying most of my bill this year. I'm definitely grateful.
I just ordered a $60 book that was labeled "new" and sold by an apparent Megan from Missouri (that's MO, right?). I say buying books is an adventure (for me) because she had only sold one book before and she appeared to be a student since the only other book she was selling was another journalism book. I felt like it could be a risk because, who knows, Megan might be a poop head who won't ever send me her book or it might not be new or something. But I also felt that I could be helping out a fellow student in dire straights. Is that the right phrase? Anyway, I ordered her book and will just have to enjoy feeling like the other (haha) famous Cristobal until I get them (or not).
I need someone to keep me accountable and hold my hand. I didn't raise myself to be disciplined enough to work as hard as I need to right now. I regret that, but don't feel like I can do much about it. I will keep burning out within two days every time I try to reform, unless I can get a slow improvement going in my lifestyle somehow. But... I hate help. Good night.
I just ordered a $60 book that was labeled "new" and sold by an apparent Megan from Missouri (that's MO, right?). I say buying books is an adventure (for me) because she had only sold one book before and she appeared to be a student since the only other book she was selling was another journalism book. I felt like it could be a risk because, who knows, Megan might be a poop head who won't ever send me her book or it might not be new or something. But I also felt that I could be helping out a fellow student in dire straights. Is that the right phrase? Anyway, I ordered her book and will just have to enjoy feeling like the other (haha) famous Cristobal until I get them (or not).
I need someone to keep me accountable and hold my hand. I didn't raise myself to be disciplined enough to work as hard as I need to right now. I regret that, but don't feel like I can do much about it. I will keep burning out within two days every time I try to reform, unless I can get a slow improvement going in my lifestyle somehow. But... I hate help. Good night.
10.1.10
I'm a sucker
I went running for the first time in a long time, this morning. I suppose it was the first time in 2010, too. And the first time in my last semester of undergrad. And the first time today. And the first time this week. And the first time...
I'm already starting my semester off on the run. But instead of being ahead of the pack, I'm trying to catch up already. Ironically, it's when I need to run the fastest that I get the most paralyzed. I don't know what to do about my Advanced Reporting beat. I suck at choosing stuff like that. It shouldn't be a big deal. But I want my beat to be something that I will actually enjoy putting the effort toward, instead of dreading every moment of it. But, having never done anything like choose a beat in Chattanooga (aka: unaffiliated with SDAs or Southern), I have no idea what I would enjoy. While we went over preliminary (slash final) ideas in class the other day, most of the class had chosen nice organizations that help people. I think that's a great idea. But they're all doing it and that's the main reason why I wouldn't want to. I finally just let my fingers blurt out "music in Chattanooga" when I quickly typed up my chosen beat before class. Way too broad and way too lame, that idea was. I admitted it in class and in typical Ms. Chamberlain fashion, she was like, "Uh-huh." Think eyebrows raised in a "ya think?" expression with an ever-so-slight tilt of the head and the emission of some sort of indescribable, tasteless, odorless, invisible taunting of "you suck" along with it. OK, that's a little far. But I felt like an idiot.
Oh my. What to do. I don't mind calling people very much, although it scares the crap out of me. I don't mind doing interviews very much, although I don't consider myself a very proficient interviewer. And I certainly don't mind researching or writing. But these kind of, make-decisions-that-affect-your-ENTIRE-semester-within-the-first-two-days-of-class forced decisions irk me. They're the kind of requirements that I feel ought to be fed to us toward the end of the semester, after we've experienced and learned the necessary things to prepare us to make the decisions. Obviously, however, that kind of plan would have its problems. Needless to say, I feel like I'm running hard behind the pack and slowing. They're cheerily loping ahead, distancing themselves from the paralyzed deer behind them who's caught in the oncoming slaughter of decision's high beams.
I'm already starting my semester off on the run. But instead of being ahead of the pack, I'm trying to catch up already. Ironically, it's when I need to run the fastest that I get the most paralyzed. I don't know what to do about my Advanced Reporting beat. I suck at choosing stuff like that. It shouldn't be a big deal. But I want my beat to be something that I will actually enjoy putting the effort toward, instead of dreading every moment of it. But, having never done anything like choose a beat in Chattanooga (aka: unaffiliated with SDAs or Southern), I have no idea what I would enjoy. While we went over preliminary (slash final) ideas in class the other day, most of the class had chosen nice organizations that help people. I think that's a great idea. But they're all doing it and that's the main reason why I wouldn't want to. I finally just let my fingers blurt out "music in Chattanooga" when I quickly typed up my chosen beat before class. Way too broad and way too lame, that idea was. I admitted it in class and in typical Ms. Chamberlain fashion, she was like, "Uh-huh." Think eyebrows raised in a "ya think?" expression with an ever-so-slight tilt of the head and the emission of some sort of indescribable, tasteless, odorless, invisible taunting of "you suck" along with it. OK, that's a little far. But I felt like an idiot.
Oh my. What to do. I don't mind calling people very much, although it scares the crap out of me. I don't mind doing interviews very much, although I don't consider myself a very proficient interviewer. And I certainly don't mind researching or writing. But these kind of, make-decisions-that-affect-your-ENTIRE-semester-within-the-first-two-days-of-class forced decisions irk me. They're the kind of requirements that I feel ought to be fed to us toward the end of the semester, after we've experienced and learned the necessary things to prepare us to make the decisions. Obviously, however, that kind of plan would have its problems. Needless to say, I feel like I'm running hard behind the pack and slowing. They're cheerily loping ahead, distancing themselves from the paralyzed deer behind them who's caught in the oncoming slaughter of decision's high beams.
9.1.10
Joshua's Message
His stout frame carries a sort of respectable momentum with it as he pounds out the careful steps up the climbs and down the slopes of the Philippine jungle mountains. Strong legs and back are not the only characteristics he possesses, however. A strong will and a strong heart have taken this young man from the comforts of his home and friends to the far away island people he serves -- the people he now works with and learns with and teaches with. Joshua is known for his world-class adventure radar; a radar that never comes up empty.
A peaceful evening awaits his arrival in the neighboring town as the shadows lengthen and the insects begin their nightly chorus. Joshua soon enjoys a peaceful evening of worship and singing with his mountain neighbors: an evening well worth the two-hour trek. It is finally Sabbath, a busy day on the outside, but a relief for him on the inside. Sleep comes as a welcome conclusion to the week's journey and as refreshment for the Sabbath's events. In the morning he calls his parents before heading to church.
"Will you be preaching?" they ask.
"Nah," he replies, "someone else is going to preach."
Joshua is a bright kid. A sociable person by nature, his language skills are above-average and his curiosity and inquisitiveness would long have killed several cats. Although teaching class in the island tongue has presented its share of difficulties, the mind of this missionary welcomes the challenge. Fluency, however, is yet a goal for the future, to be acquired at a later date.
As soon as he hangs up, his friend next to him asks, "Will you preach today?"
The radar has picked up on another adventure. Of course Josh will preach. And it goes well. His trek, his voice, his adventure, his heart - they all testify to Josh's love for his King. Without a translator, without big words or fancy technology, Joshua tells - he lives - a story. The people listen, and they understand: the Lord saves.
A peaceful evening awaits his arrival in the neighboring town as the shadows lengthen and the insects begin their nightly chorus. Joshua soon enjoys a peaceful evening of worship and singing with his mountain neighbors: an evening well worth the two-hour trek. It is finally Sabbath, a busy day on the outside, but a relief for him on the inside. Sleep comes as a welcome conclusion to the week's journey and as refreshment for the Sabbath's events. In the morning he calls his parents before heading to church.
"Will you be preaching?" they ask.
"Nah," he replies, "someone else is going to preach."
Joshua is a bright kid. A sociable person by nature, his language skills are above-average and his curiosity and inquisitiveness would long have killed several cats. Although teaching class in the island tongue has presented its share of difficulties, the mind of this missionary welcomes the challenge. Fluency, however, is yet a goal for the future, to be acquired at a later date.
As soon as he hangs up, his friend next to him asks, "Will you preach today?"
The radar has picked up on another adventure. Of course Josh will preach. And it goes well. His trek, his voice, his adventure, his heart - they all testify to Josh's love for his King. Without a translator, without big words or fancy technology, Joshua tells - he lives - a story. The people listen, and they understand: the Lord saves.
7.1.10
Of this, of this, I know I know.
When hate and men and laws are strong
It may cost much, it may take long
But God will one day right this wrong
Of this, of this, I know, I know.
When vision fails through cloudy lens
It may be hard to see my sins
But God will one day fully cleanse
Of this, of this, I know, I know.
When hearts turn dark in winter white
It may be hard to stand and fight
But God will surely be my light
Of this, of this, I know, I know.
When life is but a hopeless sigh
It may have sapped my spirit dry
But God forever hears my cry
Of this, of this, I know, I know.
When feet and heart have gone astray
It may not seem that God would stay
But God will pick me up and say
Of this, of this, I know, I know.
It may cost much, it may take long
But God will one day right this wrong
Of this, of this, I know, I know.
When vision fails through cloudy lens
It may be hard to see my sins
But God will one day fully cleanse
Of this, of this, I know, I know.
When hearts turn dark in winter white
It may be hard to stand and fight
But God will surely be my light
Of this, of this, I know, I know.
When life is but a hopeless sigh
It may have sapped my spirit dry
But God forever hears my cry
Of this, of this, I know, I know.
When feet and heart have gone astray
It may not seem that God would stay
But God will pick me up and say
Of this, of this, I know, I know.
6.1.10
A 6th-day-of-the-year Resolution... it's 12MP and counting
After all the syllabi days are out of the way, I feel that I would be safe in predicting that I will have plenty of reading and writing to do this semester. That is not necessarily a problem as I love each of these activities, but the lack of motivation and ambition since my first breath uncrinkled my lungs leaves me somewhat apprehensive as to how successful I will be this semester. Of course, my successfulness would depend on the definition, which I will not worry about now.
Along these lines, (are letters) it is both encouraging and discouraging to suddenly bump into several wonderful, and much more consistent and consistently interesting, blogs of people that I know as faces from around the SJ&C department or Southern in general. I love these discoveries! People that I know at some point in the day sat around the computer and fussed with their keyboard until a blog appeared and was published! But at the same time, I hate these discoveries because they remind me of how inconsistent my own writing has been, and how hypocritical I am for calling myself a Print Journalism student while I rarely write for myself and rarely read such things as, wait for it: print journalism. Fortunately, I am feeling the pressure to begin a more disciplined lifestyle in order to obtain some level of success and significance in my life and am therefore hoping to become a more frequent word-dabbler. I am also to be henceforth forced to read the newspaper, magazines, and other such bearers-of-current-events in order to keep up with the times (no pun intended) and do well in all of Ms. Chamberlain's classes (I'm taking three of them, all in the same classroom, which is probably 3/4 of all the classes she teaches - we are likely to know each other much better by May).
In other news, I need to buy a camera so I can start fiddling with pictures as well. I'd like to add an easy 1,000 words to these blogs once in a while and feel like I have something to reference from my college days come grandchildren time. Long live the pixel.
Along these lines, (are letters) it is both encouraging and discouraging to suddenly bump into several wonderful, and much more consistent and consistently interesting, blogs of people that I know as faces from around the SJ&C department or Southern in general. I love these discoveries! People that I know at some point in the day sat around the computer and fussed with their keyboard until a blog appeared and was published! But at the same time, I hate these discoveries because they remind me of how inconsistent my own writing has been, and how hypocritical I am for calling myself a Print Journalism student while I rarely write for myself and rarely read such things as, wait for it: print journalism. Fortunately, I am feeling the pressure to begin a more disciplined lifestyle in order to obtain some level of success and significance in my life and am therefore hoping to become a more frequent word-dabbler. I am also to be henceforth forced to read the newspaper, magazines, and other such bearers-of-current-events in order to keep up with the times (no pun intended) and do well in all of Ms. Chamberlain's classes (I'm taking three of them, all in the same classroom, which is probably 3/4 of all the classes she teaches - we are likely to know each other much better by May).
In other news, I need to buy a camera so I can start fiddling with pictures as well. I'd like to add an easy 1,000 words to these blogs once in a while and feel like I have something to reference from my college days come grandchildren time. Long live the pixel.
2.1.10
we should all get...
...a tumblr. Except we all consider ourselves deep writers and too cool for dinky daily doses of favorite things et cetera. Oh well. Here's one that I thought was a cool example: http://devincastro.tumblr.com.
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