Journeys

Hello, everyone. [Insert generic apology for being a terrible updater.] In case you weren't aware, I went to Burundi this summer on a Jesus Film Mission Trip. I wrote a letter to my supporters about my adventures, and I thought you might like to read it...

I just got back from an incredible two-week journey to Burundi, Africa about a month ago. My experience was more incredible than words can express, but I will do my best to share it with you.

I left home on July 30^th—the first of four flights all the way from Wenatchee to Bujumbura. I met my team along the way and we headed to a hotel where we would have training and a much-needed lesson about the culture before we began our ministry. In order to reach more people for Christ, we split into two teams: one went to a town called Macomba, and my team went to Nyanza-Lac, which is a lakeside town with a view of Tanzania.

We had 22 film showings during our time in Burundi, and we worked together with pastors in the communities to coordinate them with church plants. Over 15,000 people came to the showings and 4,496 people indicated a decision to receive Christ.  This trip was much more about numbers, though. It was about making the Gospel accessible to the spiritually starving people of Burundi. The first film showing we had was in a Muslim community in Nyanza-Lac. Most of the villagers showed up after dark or listened through the walls of their homes so they wouldn’t be seen by their neighbors. We didn’t have a very big turnout at that one, but if even one person came to know Yesu—the Kirundi word for Jesus—it would’ve been worth it.

Aside from the film showings, we were very blessed to lead a pastors’ training and a youth conference. I didn’t personally get to speak, but many people on my team were able to share truths about the Bible and about God with the Burundians. My favorite part about the whole trip was, hands-down, the youth conference. I got to worship with other students who love God. Even though I didn’t know the words to the songs in Kirundi, I could worship right along with them.

The most beautiful struggle for me on the trip was that in reality, we didn’t do much. Most of the time I didn’t even set up the equipment. I literally just had my presence and my testimony to give, but bizarrely that was enough. Quite a few of my team members, myself included, struggled with this and eventually came to terms with the fact that God doesn’t need us to share the gospel. It’s not a specialized or privileged job at all. But although he may not need us, for some mysterious, beautiful reason, he wants us.

Friends, he chose to use us to share the most amazing message of redemption and life. I cannot quite grasp it. Thank you so much to those of you who supported me on this trip.

I'm on a book hunt

So, there's this book that I read years ago that I haven't been able to get off my mind lately. It was mind-blowingly funny and amazing and is probably my favorite book ever, but I can't find it anywhere. I can't even remember the title, the author, or even the characters' names.

All I know is that it had an orange cover and was written by an Australian. It was a YA novel about a boy who likes girls with muscles. He has two hippy parents who make a house out of manure, and he also ends up putting port-a-potties on some inspector's yard.

This mystery book is driving me crazy. I've searched the interwebs and everything, but I still can't find it. The problem is, it feels a bit Romantic searching for a book like this. It's like a lost love or something, and I'm trying to rescue if from oblivion. But what happens when I finally find it and realize it's not nearly as good as I remember.

Or worse...what if it is?

I may or may not be a little sleep deprived at the time of this post. But if you know this book, PLEASE let me know.

UPDATE: I finally found this book on a random library site. It's called I'm Being Stalked by a Moonshadow, and you should totally check it out. It's no John Green, but it's a great light read and made me laugh the second time.

Guatemala and book requests

About a week and a half ago, I returned from Guatemala. (And yes, I realize I barely mentioned I was going and I am very sorry.) It's just that this Africa trip has taken precedence with both funds and thoughts. The opportunity to go to Guatemala came up from nowhere, so I accepted without even fully comprehending it. A full five days after I came back from college, I got on a plane to Guatemala City, still slightly dazed.

When I got there, I was frustrated and feeling a bit useless. We were staying at a house there, so I hadn't been able to use my Spanish and I didn't even have a job yet (it was a medical mission trip). It seems like I always have this drive to be useful, but I was on a mission trip and I wasn't really feeling it. But God slowly began to teach me that his plan for me is much more than simply being useful. He wants to use me, but more than that he wants my heart. I finally did find a job--the eye clinic--and was able to use my Spanish, but I also rediscovered a calling for Guatemala. I have decided to intern there next summer for about a month and a half, and I can hardly wait until then.

I also have other exciting news: an agent requested the first 50 pages of my book (you might remember this anxious post about sending it in)! It was actually the only agent I sent it into, which is quite awesome but unlikely. Anyway, I spent July 4th (and part of the 3rd) ferociously copy-editing. I think I've probably read those 50 pages a total of 50 times. I'm not even going to look at them until I get any feedback, though, because I know if I do I'll see a gazillion typos. However, I am going to copy-edit the rest a ton...just in case something ridiculously unbelievable and exciting happens. I'll be sure to let you know.

Change.

The school year is almost over, and I am in a bit of shock. I can't believe that I'm at the end of my freshman year. I mentioned to my roommate on a camping trip this weekend that we were only going to be living together for less than two weeks, and I almost started crying. I almost cried again when I thought about not having the same corefas (small group leaders) next year. That's the problem with me. I just want to hold people close and never let anything change. But change is good...right? I mean, you never get to have new experiences if you hold everything tight to your chest.
Next year I'm rooming with a girl on my floor who's too awesome to describe in a blog post, but I'll just say that she's a lover of Jesus, a resident of Alaska who's moving to Montana this summer, and an eater of meat (she assumes that I always describe her as a meat eater since she always tells people I'm vegan, so I just had to put that in there). But anyway, she's totally awesome and I'm excited to get to know her better through living with her next year.
And apparently God has called me to be a corefa next year, which is still kind of crazy to me. I'm not exactly the most qualified person for the job, but I guess God wants me there so I'm sure it will work out.
I know that God has grown me in myriad ways this year and I shouldn't just stay where I am, but I am going to miss the way things are now a lot.
Sorry for the sentimental post. To make up for it, here's a joke:

A man walks into a bar...
...
...
...
...
...
OW!

That's the best I've got. What, you're saying I shouldn't go into stand-up comedy? But this is America--what about my dreams?
Heh-heh. Enjoy the summer (or the remainder of classes), and DFTBA.

Novel editing and the origins of "adios"

I'm not sure why this is, but it's extremely hard to rationalize doing homework when I have some fantastic scenes in my head just waiting to come out on paper. I mean, grades are just made of letters (and sleepless nights, of course), while this book could potentially be made of awesome. Of course, I haven't yet neglected my studies, but it's tempting. Very tempting.
At first when I finished my draft I wanted to throw up when I thought about editing it, but now it's actually kind of nice. The dialogue is much less awful now, and the scenes are flowing together better.
On an unrelated note: I just google image searched myself to see what a prospective agent might find, and I seem to have miraculously avoided the Internet. Except for a picture of my be-Chacoed (Chacofied?) feet that is the album cover for my piano music. Which I find extremely entertaining.
Since this entire post seems rather random and out-of-place, I should probably mention that one of my friends (who is actually going to be my roommate next year. Yay!) was wondering where the word "Adios" came from. "A" means to, and "Dios" means God, so I shot a finger-gun at her and said, "Adios." To God. I'll leave you to ponder the philosophical implications of this why I either study Spanish phonetics or write a scene.

Adios.

Of query letters, glasses, and trusting God

I sent in a query letter and a sample of my book to an agent last Monday. Which means that it's probably ON HER DESK RIGHT NOW AND SHE'S GOING TO READ IT AND AHHHHH. Sorry. I've been known to occasionally be disproportionately enthusiastic. I just can't help imagining what it would be like for an agent to actually say yes.

Because I'm neurotic and can't stop myself, I've been editing my book like an insane person ever since sending in the query letter. I know that, in theory, you're supposed to have polished a draft to perfection before sending it in, but I don't think that a book is really ever ready until printing. So I've been adding in scenes, cutting out others, and improving the dialogue throughout. Guys. I am so excited about this one. I think it actually stands a chance to get published. Maybe. We'll see, I guess.
This week, I found out that not only am I going to Burundi this summer, but I am also going to go to Guatemala! (Insert happy dance.) God is so awesome. I still don't know how it's going to work out, but that's part of the wonder of it all. It's sort of the same with living on campus. A girl from my Core and I are about 98% sure we're going to live in one of the dorms together next year for the specific purpose of reaching out to the community. At first, I was really hesitant because, as much as I wanted to do it, I had no idea where the money would come from. But I still could really sense God calling me there. I don't really know where the money will come from yet, but if God wants us there then he will provide for us somehow.
Yesterday I got my new glasses in the mail. I was sort of worried because I picked them out in a bad mood due to my yellow fever injection and blurry vision from my eye exam. But they're amazingly nerdy and cute. They're a little crooked, though, and I have to somehow find a way to get to Costco so that they don't drive me crazy.
Oh, and I found out that I'm going to be a conversation partner with an exchange student on campus. Which is awesome and everything, except that it falls on One Day without Shoes (you may remember my post about it last year). So basically I have two choices: 1) give my convo buddy an interesting first impression of Americans and college life in general, or 2) just wear shoes like a Normal Person. Guess which option I'm leaning toward?
Yup. That one.

God, The Fault in Our Stars and other bits of awesome.

I'd been wanting to read John Green's newest novel, The Fault in Our Stars, since it came out, but I am still clueless about how the Bellingham library works and I can't exactly afford to buy books. However, the other day I suddenly remembered that my lovely grandmother had given me an Amazon gift card for Christmas, and I immediately ordered the book. (Well, as soon as logging into Amazon, of course.) I started reading it last night when it arrived, and I finished it tonight. I think that I'd forgotten how much I loved reading. College--and writing on my own book quite extensively--had just drained me of energy for reading, but the more I think about the more I realize that's an awful mindset. I will always have to do something, and if I want to just wait for time to do the things that matter then I will never end up doing them.
Anyway. On to the book...
It was absolutely phenomenal. I've always loved John Green's works, but this is, from my opinion, his best. It is profound and funny, but also heartbreaking and real. It's one of those books that you pick up and in fifteen pages you already know it's going to be one of your favorites. So, yeah. You should read it, library or no. (Side note: for the first time ever while reading a novel, since I'm woefully unconnected with pop culture, I understood all of the allusions and felt extremely nerdy and extremely proud at the same time. DFTBA.)

[Insert awkward segue here], and, so, I'm pretty much in awe of what God has been doing in my life lately. I think that that for the majority of my life, I experienced little bursts of spirituality that honestly never really amounted to much other than contented complacency. I wanted to share my faith all the time, become hardcore, and fall completely in love with Jesus, but it never exactly happened.Well, things are different now. I don't know if I can adequately put into words what God has been doing in my heart (or if I'm truly hardcore--what does that even mean, anyway? I don't have abs made of steel), but it's quite terrifying and great. I think one of the most striking things that I've been learning, though, is that you might have your first big "surrender" when you accept Christ and all that, but the surrendering doesn't really stop there. You have to do it all the time because you forget that first time so easily.
I've also broken my little comfort bubble and asked people spiritual questions for Discipleship Class and gone conversational evangelizing. Yes, I'm rather incredulous as well.

God is kind of awesome.

Africa

Remember when I told you guys that I'm going to Africa this summer? Well, it's really, really happening, and I've started sending out letters. I'm posting my letter on here, so feel free to read it if you want to find out about my trip!

~~

Happy New Year! I can hardly believe that Christmas has already past and I’ve already started my second quarter at college. Last quarter, I became involved with Campus Christian Fellowship and joined a few clubs.  I also felt the Lord’s calling to apply for a Jesus Film mission trip to Burundi, Africa. Ever since the Cru (formerly Campus Crusade for Christ) US Staff Conference, I’ve had this incomprehensible urge to go to Africa, so I took one of Jesus Film trip brochures. Although finances were tight and I was uncertain of my future, I was convinced that God wanted me to apply.

About a month later, during Thanksgiving break, I received my acceptance email. I am going to Africa. Every time I say those words, this giant rush of joy and excitement runs through me.  I have no doubt that God has wanted me to go all along, and I am exited to see him working through me and the rest of my team in Burundi.

Burundi is a small African country surrounded by Rwanda, Tanzania, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. My team and I will travel to several rural villages there and put on showings of the Jesus Film in the native languages. Burundi has three official languages—French, Rundi, and Swahili—plus countless other dialects. I’m currently learning a bit of French, but we will have translators to help us communicate with the people. Some of the people we will reach will never have heard the gospel before, and I get to share that with them!

As excited as I am about Burundi, I cannot go alone. This trip will cost about $4000, more than I have in my bank account. I hope that you will pray about supporting me both spiritually and financially. A gift of $50, $100, $300—or however much you feel led to give—would help tremendously on my journey. Although you might not be able to go to Burundi personally, helping to send me there will transform lives.  

If you choose to send a check, please make it out to Cru and send it to my dorm address.

Thanks so much!

Oda a mis gafas

I wrote a poem in Spanish and thought I'd post it on here (but no, it does not have a translation, so you'll just have to become bilingual to comprehend my genius).

Oda a mis gafas

Los suéteres se desgastan,

el ambiente eventualmente destruye los pantalones,

y los zapatos no duran para siempre,

pero cada día me pongo las gafas.

Amigos fieles, siempre me ayudan.

Sus montas rectangulares abrazan a sus lentes.

Sus ventanas claras me dan pasamiento al mundo de color.

He perdido el arte de ver.

Paso por las gotas de agua en las hojas de los árboles,

los arcos irises por encima de mi cabeza,

las sonrisas tímidas en las bocas de los desconocidos, 

y los nubes sonrojos.

Mis ojos escogen mirar a las calles, las fechas, y los informes.

No quieren recordar su ceguera,

pero siempre están allí mis gafas.

Amigos sabios, esperan silenciosamente

el momento de recordar.

Tristes sin lágrimas, no dicen nada

mientras camino rápidamente a la clase.

Sienten sin movimiento en mi nariz

cuando cruzo la calle hablando por teléfono.

No me piden nada.

Anticipan que los me ponga

y pare por ver brevemente,

que observe las gotas de agua y los nubes,

y que mire la lluvia con ojos fascinados.

Mis gafas, guías leales, me enseñan silenciosamente

a ver.

If you're a student in college...

If you're a student in college, someone is bound to ask you what you're studying.

When you answer this question, they will ask you what you want do with your degree.

This impromptu interview will remind you that you really should be studying, so you will quickly dismiss yourself and hit the books.

Doing your math homework will remind you that you really don't like math, so you will go buy a snack instead.

As you buy your breakfast cookie at exactly 3:27 p.m., you will remember that you were supposed to call your mother before your breakfast.

When you make the call, you will see a clipping of job advertisements on the cork board.

The advertisements will remind you that you really need some work experience.

Your need of work experience will remind you that you really have no idea for what field you need it.

This quandary will remind you that you that you really need to declare a major.

And when you declare your major, someone is bound to ask you what you plan to do with it.

(Modeled after If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.)

I seem to be very fond of parodies lately. For my Honors assignment, I had the idea of writing a poem instead of a standard essay, and my prof approved. It is a parody of Dante's Inferno from Muhammad's perspective, written in iambic pentameter and (almost) terza rima. It has been quite fun to write, but more than a little painstaking. This song has helped a lot, though. Heh, heh.

Merry Christmas!

Hello, and a merry Christmas to you all! I can still hardly believe that Christmas has already come and gone. Ever since coming home from college, I've been working just about nonstop in a major department store. It's been a blessing to have the job and the OCD part of me has enjoyed folding and refolding all the clothes in my department, but I'm not sure how I feel about the grown-up part to it all. I work from either 11-7 or 9-5. The long shifts drain me of creativity and energy, and I haven't been able to write on my novel hardly at all. Nevertheless, before work started I almost finished it and now have just a chapter to go. I'm currently reveling in a few days off of work, and I plan to use this time to finish my book and to write a support letter for...wait for it...AFRICA! Yes, you read that correctly, I am one hundred percent for-sure going. I just have to raise a ton of money since I'm a broke college kid, so this could get interesting. I'm seeing a lot of lemonade stands in my not-so-distant future.
This Christmas, I had the brilliant idea of recording a CD of improv piano for my friends and family. However, as I continued recording, I decided to put the CD on the internet. Completely ridiculously, I now have an album for sale on bandcamp and a couple songs for free on noisetrade. Keep in mind that all of this happened in a matter of days, since this is improv piano and one can't exactly polish and practice improvised songs. So this is pretty much my insane life. I don't want to accidentally get rich or famous, though, so up until July all proceeds (if there ever are any) will go towards my Africa trip. Huzzah!
Anyways, it is two days after Christmas so if you'll excuse me, I'm off to play with the best Christmas present ever, my TARDIS and Doctor Who action figures. (Jealous?)

My brain is a hostage.

I must confess that I have quit a cappella club. I really did try to like it, since I adore singing, but I just couldn't do it. Instead, I've been going to Scottish country dancing club. I have yet to master the skip-change (the central step in Scottish country dancing), which makes for an interesting evening of Rosemary holding my hand and proclaiming in a British accent, HOP- two-three, HOP-two-three. Despite the embarrassment, it's really quite fun. Since I'm an idiot and raised my hand when she asked the everyone who had been to club night in class, I actually got to perform one of the dances for the class's enrichment today.
My novel is also coming along really well. I'm at 49,321 words, which is pretty impressive (50,000 words is the NaNoWriMo goal), considering that all my professors assigned huge projects, essays, and readings due around the same time. Of course. The problem is that I can barely make myself focus on the aforementioned work. My characters have taken my head hostage, refusing to let it think about anything else or do anything productive other than writing them. I have never written any characters as fleshed-out and real as these, and they genuinely haunt my head. When telling a friend about this "problem," she said something about the book not being real and I stared at her for a second. I'd actually forgotten that the entire story and characters only existed in my head (and in my computer, of course).
They are so real to me that, when I had to write something painful for my MC, I had to buy myself chocolate as an incentive. I've stared at people crossing campus that look remotely like my characters. I've broken down crying about the story and laughed out loud while crafting a joke. A difficulty (and blessing, sometimes) about being a writer is the intense capacity to feel. I feel everything my characters do, whether it be depression, rapturous bliss, or fury. It's wonderful and awful at the same time. Ah, well. The life of an artist.
On a different note, since I love causes but have next to no money, I was quite euphoric when I discovered GoodSearch today via NaNoWriMo. Basically, it's just a search engine that donates money to the cause of your choice for every Web search you make (and it's free!). Oh dear. I sound like an infomercial, don't I? Anyways, you should definitely check it out if you're, like me, broke but wanting to help out a cause!
Well, I'm off to write on my novel...I mean, work on my essays. Heh, heh. Oh! Before I go, I must bestow some wonderful news upon you. Instead of a cappella club, I went to a readers' meeting for my school's literary journal called Jeopardy! today. I think I'm going to be a reader, which basically means that I'll read submissions, vote on them, and critique them a bit for the magazine which sounds a lot more amazing to me than singing for an hour (sorry, a cappella. I promise I still love you! Will you accept my humble offer of vegan brownies and black licorice?).

I've been tagged

I won! I won! I WON!

Hehe. Occasionally I get a little over-excited about some things (read: everything). But that's okay. A hilarious Sparkler just gave me this award, which I've never heard of but am assuming it's the blogosphere version of a Pulitzer prize. I'd start preparing my acceptance speech, but I do need to tell seven random things about myself and then tag seven bloggers with 100 words or less. Let the good times commence...

My seven things:
1. I am so indecisive that I almost couldn't decide which "thing" to start with.
2. I just applied on a mission trip to go to Africa this summer.
3. I'm a broke college student and peanut butter is my hero!
4. I work in an art gallery.
5. I am a bibliophile and write just about all the time.
6. When in the presence of (vegan) sugar, I've been known to eat way too much of it.
7. I have seven younger siblings, all of whom I got to see today.

Now, onto the seven bloggers:
1. The life story of a chick drummer named Kat, - she's a drummer and just generally awesome.
2. christellingstories -  his passion for God and for people is so inspiring.
3. Confessions of a Debate Nerd - who could possibly resist that title?
4. Faith Like a Child - everyone could use a little more faith like a child.
5. five.minute.anyday - I really like the premise of this blog.
6. A (Not So) Normal Teen - she posts wonderful poetry.
7. A Snapshot of Motherhood - well...my mom's blog is pretty cool.

Huzzah! I'll consider myself officially "awarded."

Bouldering, writing, and a cappella

Hello, friends. Sorry that I've been so sporadic about blogging; it's just that every time I sit down to write a post, I write a few lines, laugh at their corniness, and then shut off my computer. Despite my recent ineptness at blogging, progress on my novel is going really well (you know that one novel that I never mentioned in my posts? Yep. That one) and I'm at the proud landmark of 35,707 words. I started this novel in September and have not yet tired of it. For some reason, this one is so much fun to write and makes me laugh out loud and cry, sometimes at the same time (yes, I know I'm the author. That's beside the point). I wish I could tell you what it's about, but apparently it's not a good idea to put unlicensed material on the Internets for billions of eyes to see if one is planning on publishing it. (I know, right? Who would've thought?)
I have also become addicted to bouldering. In case you don't know what that is (and truthfully, a month ago I didn't either), it's rock-climbing in a  gym without a harness. It's dangerous, extremely difficult, and covers one's hands with perpetual calluses and blisters, but it's just about the most fun way to work out I have ever tried. The possibilities for creativity are endless: you can pretend you're a super-spy, trying to escape a flood, or were raised by apes. Personally I prefer the first option, since it's a little less stressful.
Anyways, these past few weeks, I have been going to a cappella club. I had a Great Plan that I would try out for the "Breakfast at Tiffany's" solo tonight, so I got all excited. However, when I arrived tonight they informed everyone that they'd cut one song out of the three for the concert. Out of "F* You," "Stand By Me," and "Breakfast at Tiffany's," guess which one they cut?
Yeah....
I would gladly have tried out for "F* You" if only they'd used the radio version--I mean, the range is perfect!--only, I don't swear. I still don't understand why it's cool to drop the F-bomb repeatedly throughout a song, but it's okay. They said that we'd sing "Breakfast at Tiffany's" later in the quarter, so I still have my hopes up for that shiny, beautiful solo! Eventually. For now, I'm just going to have to OooOoooO to my heart's content (gotta love altos). And even though I didn't get to try out, I was planning on it. That's pretty huge for me, the girl who won't sing in the shower for fear of someone overhearing. So that's something, I suppose.
I also am going to try to give blood tomorrow for the first time in a year, and then I'm planning on going bouldering after that, which may or may not be a good idea. Let's see what happens.

College!

Hello, everyone! I am--officially--moved in. I'm a college student, guys. This is so weird. Do you want to hear about the adventure that was moving in and the first day of classes? No? Well...I'm going to tell you anyway.
My roommate and I decided beforehand that we wanted to loft our beds, but after getting all the bed parts, we changed our minds and bunked them, which meant that we had to carry all the parts downstairs and to the hall next door. It was glorious, awkward, furniture-carrying fun. But bunk beds are cool, so it was worth it. After we'd gotten semi-situated, my mom and I bought an "easy assembly" table for the microwave. There were somewhere around 30 screws, but no holes in the table. We didn't bring any power tools (and a sonic screwdriver doesn't work on wood), so we had to borrow the RA's and manually screw in each and every one. It was quite the adventure, but now we are extremely proud of our little table. We're also apparently in one of the nicest dorms on campus (the honors program does have its perks) and we had enough room for a couch.
Monday and Tuesday were the gigantic info fair days on campus, and I signed up for Bad Wolf, the Vietnamese club, the Scottish country dancing club, and sailing (the last of which I will not be able to attend due to scheduling conflicts, unfortunately).
Anyways, that was all fun and exciting, and now I just finished my first day of classes. AHHHHHH! It actually wasn't as stressful as I'd thought, though. I found all my classes without issue (although I did have to ask a guy in my science literacy class if I was in the right building...I just had to be sure). My honors professor has a sweet Scottish accent and my Scottish country dancing instructor is a cute little British lady. My science literacy and Spanish 301 professors both also seem really cool. I'm also one of three freshmen in my Spanish class--but I understood everything that was said perfectly and am feeling pretty confident about my skills. The worst class for me will probably be honors, but that's only because I hate talking in class. I'm sure college will beat it out of me.
I've also had an interview in the library and a nonexistant interview at a museum since i've been here. The library interview went pretty well, but I biked halfway to the museum interview before calling the supervisor (I got lost, but in all fairness it was my first day) only to find out that the position had been filled a month ago and she'd sent me an email...Yeah, no. That email never happened, because if it had I definitely would have remembered it. Being a teenage author, I'm pretty used to rejection letters, but I always take note of a new one. Oh well. I have an interview at the campus art gallery tomorrow, so hopefully that goes slightly better.
OH, AND I MADE FRIENDS! I have no idea why this is such a shock to me, but everyone is super-friendly here. I had the hardest time meeting new people in East Wenatchee when I moved there and only made a few lasting friendships, but here everyone's like, "Hi! My name's ____. Friends?" It's quite a new experience for me, but I'm definitely enjoying it. I think by default I've become a little more outgoing simply because it's expected. Last night, I played Spoono (Uno plus Spoons) with my roommate, suite mates, and some other girls on my floor, and have already met a few people in my classes and around campus.
Yes. College is amazing. I have the strangest feeling I'm not going to need my unlimited meal plan, though; I've been here since Sunday and have only been to the dining hall about four times. I guess I won't be getting the freshman 15...

Time goes by quickly and you should.....oh, there it went.

Do you know what's ridiculous? I just had to update my profile because, believe it or not, I am no longer a senior in high school! I'd make some cliche statement about how time "flies," but all of us who watch Doctor Who knows that it normally passes "really, really slowly...in the right order." But whether or not time feels fast when it's passing, it just keeps going and going and never stops...well, until heaven, I suppose.
Isn't that odd and slightly terrifying? On the first day of September, the month I leave for college, I find myself procrastinating on packing my things, bombarded with college mail, and trying to figure out what in the world I've gotten myself into. Don't get me wrong--I'm excited to leave and start life out on my own--but all the same, I'm just struck with this sense of urgency. I can't slow--or speed--the time until I leave...or until I graduate, get my first "real job," start finding gray hairs, or, y'know, die.
(Yes, I am in a morbid mood today, thank you very much!)
But seriously. Have you ever thought about that--that even if you lock yourself in a room and don't do anything for your entire life, time will keep on going?
The thought makes me cringe every time I go and waste time on the Internet, miss my Saturday alarm, or shrug off another chance to meet with God. I only have one life and I feel like, in this culture, I am encouraged--no, ordered--to squander it. As long as I'm happy, I might as well spend my life on whatever brand of entertainment I choose, right? At least, that's what society says.
I guess I just don't want to wake up one morning with wrinkles on my skin and a hair full of gray hair and wonder where all the time went.

My life could be a sitcom.

I'm not dead, I promise! (But wouldn't that be a plot twist?)
Anyway, I felt a bit like launching into a blog post with no justification as to why I haven't written in...over two months (has it really been that long?), but I suspect that you would think that was incredibly rude. So, I shall summarize my hectic, awesome, and sitcom-worthy life for you now...
On June eighth, I flew out of East Wenatchee to stay with one of my best friends in Little Rock. While I was minding my own business, watching an episode of Doctor Who, a flight attendant spilled a soda all over my laptop, whose name is Finnick Weasley by the way. Finnick was not pleased. I wasn't either, and seeing how I don't even drink soda in the first place, I thought it was quite the cruel fate for my geeky little mechanical companion. However, Finnick, though a bit sticky, survived. (And I am now typing on my new MacBook Pro, which is significantly sexier, better, and less sticky than Finnick.) I made it to Little Rock--and then Colorado--and had a wonderful time being with my friends, most of whom are college-bound like me. I also spent every moment in the car listening to Chameleon Circuit's new album, Still Got Legs. Again. And again. It is so good. (Why have you not clicked on the link yet? Click on it!)
A few short days after returning home, I started up my first job since Izzy's: cherries. Saturday was my last day of waking up at 4 a.m., driving up in the mountains, and sorting cherries in an orchard all day. It was ridiculously fun, but I am ridiculously glad that it's over--one can only wake up before sunrise so often before it becomes a bit draining. Actually, it was draining in more ways than one, since on the last day, my phone and iPod were stolen right out of my car. I left my window open about an inch to keep it from overheating inside, but someone used a stick to unlock the door and then took the things from the glove compartment. It was quite a sad day. So the moral of the story is: don't roll your window down when you park your car (or don't leave valuables in it; whatever floats your boat). Anyway, I'm praying that God will be glorified in this situation, but it's still a bit frustrating.

Blue Hair, Green Converse, and Certifiable Insanity

Remember, oh about a couple of months ago, how I told you I was giving you a salutatorian speech and then had to admit that was a misunderstanding and I actually was not giving a speech? Well...it turns out I lied to you twice. Sorry!
Recently, I got a call from my high school counselor that said I actually could give a speech if I wanted. Either way, it was up to me. And do you know what I said?
Do. You. Know. What. I Said?
I said yes.
Actually, instead of "yes," I'm almost positive I said "sure" with a self-assured, carefree inflection to my voice. Staring blankly at the receiver, my insides lunged to recapture that abhorrent little word, but it was too late. Some convoluted part of me had already committed to a mission of certain death.
As I'm sure you are already aware, I am not a public speaker. Aside from my Spanish class this quarter, which has eight people and requires participation, I almost never speak in class. I write just about all the time, but verbally expressing those words in front of ten (or several thousand) people is pretty terrifying.
Myself and I, we had a long talk after agreeing to make that speech. On one hand, I was of course terrified. But on the other, I was secretly proud of myself. I knew that I was probably going to stumble over my words and make an utter fool out of myself on Graduation Night. But if I'd declined, I think I would always regret it.
I want to go out and change the world, and there's no way I can do that if I can't talk in front of people.  So, just to cement my stupidity for all eternity, I got two strands of my hair bleached and dyed blue the day before (to match my school colors of red and blue, of course) and started preparing.
When I first wrote my speech weeks before, I kept going over and over it, feeling oddly guilty but not knowing exactly why. Then, one night I was talking with my mom about graduation (who was dying to know what my speech was about, since I quite obstinately would not share it with anyone). She challenged me to put God in my speech, and that's when I realized exactly why it hadn't worked before. Leaving God out of my speech to please high school administrators was, in essence, lying. My Christianity is part of my identity, so giving a salutatorian speech and not mentioning my faith would be like going up there and mising part of my face or something. So I reworked it the night before the deadline and turned it in and, to my surprise, my counselor didn't cross out the "G-word" with red ink or phone me with directions to rewrite. Even during practice, he didn't say anything. I could hardly believe it.
The night before graduation, I barely slept, thinking about standing up in front of thousands of people to talk about the future, following one's passions, and God: no small task for one eighteen-year-old. By the time I ascended the stage decked out in my red robe, green Converse, and blue hair, though, all the butteflies had practically vanished. My voice was clear and I barely stumbled at all over my words.
When I returned to my seat, this huge feeling of relief washed over me. I did it. Now that I (voluntarily!) gave a salutatorian speech, I can do anything. I'm reminded of the verse Philippians 4:13, which says, "I can do all things through Christ who strenghtens me."
Huzzah!

The Learning Curve

This weekend, I attended a conference called Write on the River, which is a conference for writers. On a...river! (Bet you didn't see that one coming.) I went to several workshops, and at the end I got to meet with an agent.
Holy. Waffles.
Now, don't get me wrong. I've queried agents and publishers loads of times, but pitching a book in person is completely different. By the time my appointment came around, my palms were sweating and my voice threatened mutiny.
I introduced myself and started rambling a mile a minute about my most recent completed novel, tentatively entitled The Hostage.
This is how it went down:
"It's about this girl...whose mom dies and she and her dad move to a new city and--she really likes crime shows, so she's trying to figure out what actually happened--anyway, her dad goes missing too and...she finds weird files on his computer and goes to D.C. with her friends--and she finds out her dad was not actually her dad, but that he's really an undercover FBI agent. And the guy who really is her dad is her best friend's dad and is trying to poison the city because he's mad at the State for taking away his daughter. That's it!" *Deep breath.*
Excuse me while I go laugh and/or cry at myself.
Granted, my book isn't the easiest to explain, but I don't think that was my problem. I've just explained it so many times and I was so nervous for the appointment that I lost the pathos of my work. Instead of focusing on the character development, I just rapidly described the plot in a way that made it sound cliche and mundane. And yes, I hate myself for it. The agent was very nice, though, and recommended some books on plot development (zing!).
After thinking about my appointment today though, I realized that I--and quite a few Christians--have the same issue with Christianity. A lot of Christians have been hearing about Christ for years and are so nervous about sharing the fantastic message of the gospel, that they completely lose it. I know I do! Just like handing over your "baby" (writers-speak for manuscript) over to some lady in a black dress and heels is terrifying, so is sharing your very reason for existence. While it makes sense to you, anyone who doesn't agree with you is going to think you're absolutely insane.
Only...just because an agent (very nicely) rejected my book, does that mean I should stop writing? I couldn't if I tried! So whether you've shared your faith once, twice, or five hundred times, you should never stop because you make a fool out of yourself.
Because Christianity, just like writing, is a learning curve.

Forgiveness?

Cilization.
A mere five syllables, this word has been the grounds for urban sprawl, war, and ambiguous, never-ending "progress." Moving forward.
Okay, you got me--this is a post on...politics! Well, sort of. So feel free to stop reading now if you'd like, but I just felt like I had to say something.
Personally, I can't understand why America is thrilled that Osama Bin Laden, who in their minds symbolized terrorism, has been killed.
Yes, he was dangerous. Yes, he should have been apprehended and been punished for what he did. But...murder? Osama killed Americans because his religion taught him we are "evil." And why did we kill Osama again? Hmm.
I know the death penalty is a sensitive topic, so sorry if I offend, but I don't believe in it. At all. (Osama didn't get a fair trial either, but that is an entirely different matter.)
I just have to believe that there is hope for everyone, whether they are cheaters, liars, mass murderers, or sociopaths. Jesus died on the cross so that everyone can be saved, not just the people who go to Sunday school, obey curfew, and pay their taxes. During his ministry, he hung out with prostitutes, tax collectors (the corrupt kind),. and all sorts of ungodly people.
Osama Bin Laden destroyed countless Americans' lives, so saying that he"deserved" death is sort of, well, obvious. But honestly, who doesn't? God is one-hundred percent rightous, so having just one--one!--bad thought is enough for eternal separation from him. Then Jesus died and rose again, a power great enough to break every curse laid by sin.
God valued life enough to send his only son down to the world to die so that all of humanity could have a second chance. If God can forgive the very people who nailed his blameless son to the cross and murdered him, then he could forgive Osama Bin Laden. Only...it's too late.
I know it's really easy to get caught up with the idea of "justice," but I really don't think that it merits taking the life of another human being. God is just and everyone will give an account of their sins and triumphs at the end, but there is always redemption until the last breath.
There is always forgiveness.
So this is me, getting off my soapbox, smiling sheepishly, and taking an awkward little bow. Until next time, dear reader!