my thoughts...with some help from Nichole...

I stutter and I stammer...say me
I'm a symphony of chaos...play me
I'm phrases on the pages of unknown...read me into poetry and prose

I'm kept and captive...free me
I'm vaguely unimagined...dream me
I'm aimlessly unguided...lead me home

"By Your voice, we speak
By Your strength, no longer weak
We are no longer weak
By Your wounds we are healed"

I'm passed over and passed by...claim me
I'm orphaned and abandoned...name me
I'm hidden and disclosed...expose my heart

"By Your death we live
It is by Your gift that we might give
That we might give
By Your wounds we are healed"

What kind of love would take my shame
and spill His blood for me
and save me by His wounds?

no need for the sauna belt...

Things I have learned with the new laptop:
#1: I do not share well
#2: Nick may share worse
#3: The new AOL Triton pisses me off. Therefore, I download the old AOL and piss Nick off. It's a vicious cycle.
#4: Have you seen that new infomercial with the Sauna belt? I say, we don't need Sauna belts- all we need to do is type for a couple of hours and I will sweat inches off of my thighs. Maybe I really did need the Cooling tray...
#5: The Millers don't share well...I know I said it once, but we may divorce over this 15.4 inch piece of media. Really...

I wanna live in the movies...

Oh Elizabethtown...why must you be a fictional land....

PS- after going to find that picture, I question what it takes to become a movie critic and how I can get the job. because these people are ridiculous and irrational- two qualities I pride myself on possessing...and I love movies...someone sign me up....(don't you ever give Elizabethtown a D- you Atlanta snob!...I will hunt you down and cut you with my box cutter!!) [That only makes sense if you read the previous post...I think I have anger issues today....]

box cutters and prostitution...

(This post won't make a ton of sense if you aren't a student at AU right now but I gotta vent somewhere)

Miriam says that the gypsy children carry box cutters. . .cuz they are tough and scary and stuff. And people want to avoid them. There is a reason I am not allowed to carry around a box cutter as well.

I am done with the white- middle/upper class mentality that this world is only for us, about us and here to cater to our whims and wants. Do you have AIDS? Is someone forcing you into slavery? No? Are you starving and being sold into prostitution? No? Are you being sexually mutilated? No? Oh, you mean someone is taking away your ability to wear garlic? I'm sorry.

I want to box cut your privates so that you can get passionate about something real. What is this world coming to........

darn old Elton...

I sat down, to try and make a playlist of my life. All there is is Elton. Only Elton. It's disturbing. The man is a god, well, maybe just a knight (no really, I'm not making that up, he is) Either way, he dominates the undercurrents of my soul. Lately, Elton makes me cry. People keep asking me why I'm so emotional. "Are you pregnant?" they say. No, it's just Elton. Miriam says, "pregnancy will come in time, for now cry to elton, be a human." ....I think this is the best advice I've gotten in a long time.... So I'm off to find more Elton to cry to.

the banana...

The things that come to mind that I want to write about- it's amazing really. Today, bananas. You see, on Sunday, at work, I was taught a life lesson from a banana. I like fruit. Most of the time. It keeps me healthy, it's kinda sweet, and as long as it doesn't have too many seeds, we get along rather well. So, I'm standing over my computer at work, calling the degenerates who have yet to return their movies even though it's been 19 days; and I'm eating my mid-morning snack, our aforementioned banana. Now friends, this was a good banana. In all terms of good. Not too green, and yet not too brown. Sweet and not too tart. Solid, but not too solid, squishy but not too. . .Okay, you get the idea. This banana was clearly in it's prime. So here I am, dialing number after number and getting angry at the people who "loaned that movie to a friend who swears he brought it back" when I realize I'm halfway through this banana and how truly great it is. I stop my needless phone calls to enjoy the rest of the banana and that's when it hits me. It's a Sunday morning. I would rather be at church than at work. Hell, I'd rather be ANYWHERE than at Family Video. It's cold like sin- I mean really, it was 8. I'm alone at work, it's slow and I'm calling morons who are too irresponsible to return anything. And yet, this banana is great. And I think of the time I had a pear in the Bahamas. We crossed this deathtrap of a street only to endure this street market where I'm sure people have died or been raped and I let Laci talk me into buying a pear. And this pear turned into the best piece of fruit I have ever had. But looking back, I wonder how great the pear really was. I mean, for pete's sake, it's just a piece of fruit. Maybe it was so memorable because it was my last day on this tropical island, it was spring break, I was there with almost all 16 of my closest girl friends, I was starving and I was truly in my element: swimsuit and flip flops. And then I thought of the banana I had in Nicaragua and the fruit in Honduras and even the oranges in Florida. All of these "great pieces of fruit" that stick out in my mind and all of the amazing places where I found them. And now I have this banana. This Kroger banana that I ate alone at work Sunday morning over my computer on the coldest day of February. The fruit doesn't control me. And yet neither should my surroundings. It's all about my head and the gunk I let in and let control me. You see, as soon as I came to this realization, I stepped over by the window, into the sun, and imagined I was not at work, and that I was on some beach with another perfect drop of fruity goodness. And it worked. The banana was heavenly, even more so than before. Okay, okay, I know, I sound crazy- it's just fruit. But really, that's all anything is. It's all fruit, or homework, or a messy house or a bad shift at work. All fruit! I am so controlled by the crap I feed myself (mentally). It runs my moods, my attitude, my outlook. I'm never happy. When it's winter, I wish it was summer, when it's spring, I can't wait for fall, I mean really, I even wish for winter at times! (although now, I can't really remember why) My inner monologue dominates who I am, and not always for good. And so, inner monologue, it's time for some Percocet and finding the glass half full. It's time to pull ourselves up by our boot straps and always look on the bright side of life. It all goes back to one of my favorite phrases: Contentment is a choice. So that's it really, contentment lessons from a banana. Please don't judge me too harshly, I know I'm a little crazy :)

just too funny...

Let me set up the situation. Nick- in on the toilet pooping. Cheris- on the couch watching commercials. The 90-second microwave rice-a-roni commercial came on.

Cheris-"Agggghhhhgggh!!! A guy just came out of the microwave!!"

Nick-(from down the hall, in a scared shaky long drawn out voice) "Ours...?"

Maybe you had to be there but oh my gosh, I think I almost died laughing.

sleep deprivation induced insanity...

...I just thought I saw a second guy on this campus on a unicycle. And that's right, for you non-AUers, to have a second guy on a unicycle there must be a first guy. Don't ask me, I don't understand either. I think I'm losing my mind.

I've been in too many computer labs this week for too too long.

Why do I only ever want to write on here when I should be doing other productive activities?

my husband is ridiculous. . .

...this was Nick, while trying to justify buying a $245.00 sword off the internet. . .
"but it's functional! you can sharpen it and use it in battle!!"

in battle?? tell me, how often in 2006, in Anderson, IN do you suddenly have to go to battle and require a sharpened, functional sword? anyone, anyone? yea, that's what I thought

ridiculous

I break promises...

. . .I know, I told you about a month ago that I had a deep one coming, about heaven and Jeffery Dahmer, but I lied. Well, I didn't lie, I really was working on something. I had this book I was reading and it was challenging and made me think about sides of my faith that I never seem to view. You know what I mean, you know how your faith looks from this side, but when you take it and turn it around two or three times, you see stuff that you realize you've never faced. Well, that's where I was, and I meant to tell you all about it. But. . .I CAN'T FIND MY BOOK AND IT'S KILLING ME!! And so, when I find the book, and find my train of thought again, then, my friends, prepare to be amazed by the mind I contain in this here head.
Until then. . .bear with me, I'm trying. . . .

Oh Carl Caldwell...

. . .you consistently amaze me. Well, I rarely interact with you and so I guess in this case the phrase should be "today, you amaze me"

Chapel like normal right? I'm running on about 18 hours of sleep in the past 4 days. So I assume that this hour will be a great time to curl up in my theatre chair and take a small siesta. But no, you Carl Caldwell, with your Ewan McGregor movie clips in chapel, you entice me and I find myself unable to close my eyes.

But what got me today wasn't Ewan's beautiful eyes or the melodic sound of his voice, it was his outlook on one of his circumstances during the filming of Long Way Round, his motorcycle journey around the world. You see, they came to this river, and they had themselves and the motorcycles of course, and then they also had these vans, and men, and 1000s of hours of filming that they had been doing for this show. And all of it had to cross this river on the Road of Bones. There was no bridge, this was old time fording like in Oregon Trail, only no oxen and no man to pay to take you across. No no, Ewan and his men loaded up these vans and then these mammoth Russian trucks towed, no- more like yanked, them across. And I know, it doesn't sound as dramatic on here as it actually was. I mean, as one of the containers of expensive cameras/film/what not fell of the van and into the river, Reardon Auditorium did a collective *gasp. I haven't heard that room more alive in awhile. Okay, but I digress.

His point, Ewan's that is, was that too often in our life, we come up against obstacles that we avoid, or find a way around, or ignore, etc. all because we are privileged enough to have that option. But on this trip, with the bikes, cameras, and men, they came to this river and there was no way around. There was absolutely no other option. They either figured out a way to go through or they turned around and went home ending this trip across the world and ultimately, the show. So it wasn't a matter of if, it was purely a matter of how.

I can't imagine that type of thinking. Do you know how many times a day I talk myself into and out of things. I am so privileged to have that opportunity, we all are. To live a life where we face trials and have choices, options, ways out. To live a life of such stark desperation that when facing a trial all there was was the chance to look directly into it's belly and dive right in. It literally makes me shake to think about facing life like this. No way around. To be asked to be ultimately real and deal with whatever may come, escaping nothing. What a true and real existence.