Tuesday, November 30, 2010

The Denouement of NaBloPoMo

I can't believe it's the last day of November.  In retrospect, it's astonishing to realize I actually wrote 32 bog posts over the course of the month (plus around eight more drafts, which may or may not be posted, or posted only in bits and pieces, as some of the are insanely lengthy).  It almost made the month seem longer, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Misfortunate morning aside, my day actually went pretty well once I got to school.  I hung out with Leah, Abby, Lydia, Andrew, Chris, a girl named Lucinda (for a few minutes) and a guy known only to me as Bob, which I'm pretty sure is not his real name.  We had lots of fun, and then we went to class, where we experienced this piece of sheer awesomeness, discussed two essays called "Meatless Days" and "How I Started To Write", got our annotated bibliography drafts back (149 out of 150 points!  So exciting).  Then I had a deep and thought-provoking debate with Abby, renovated my blog, and did simple interest problems in math (which I got out of 25 minutes early, not like it really matters since I take the bus) and had a Twix bar.

Only three and a half weeks left of the semester!  Hurrah!

I plan to keep posting pretty regularly, possibly every day, in December in beyond.  I seriously can't believe that we only have 31 days left before we're into the second decade of the 2000s.  Makes me feel old (yes, I know, that's a blasphemous thing for an 18-year-old to say).  

So, goodnight, sleep tight, may all your dreams come true...  (This is a joke, fyi.  At least five of my blog readers should get it.)

Happy birthday to my uber awesome dad (I'll be a good daughter and not divulge his age ;).  Love you lots! 

(Also, in case anyone was curious, a denouement is the last half of a Greek-style tragedy, after the hero's reversal of fortune.  It can also mean the end of something in a not-as-tragic sense, which is the context in which I'm using it here.  Sorry.  I'm rambling on in my geekiness.)

Free will versus predestination

(Funny, that this came up up right after Emily decides to start researching different faiths and viewpoints.  *Time Lord.*)

So, I was having this interesting discussion today with Abby (a girl from my honors classes.  She's super nice and really smart—in the math geek sort of way—and I like her a lot).  Recently we've started hanging out together during our breaks in the afternoon Tuesday and Thursday, between our Honors English and respective math classes.  Today we were talking about school, grades, stress (normalcy), and the discussion of stress sort of naturally drifted into the topic of prayer —>  God —> the Bible, and then we started talking about different denominations of Christianity.  This then led into the revelation that I'm neo-charismatic nondenominational, and she's Reformed—thus meaning, for the two of us at least, that I believe in free will and she believes in predestination.  This prefaced a forty-minute, somewhat intense, mutually respectful, highly engaging debate.  

I believe that Christ died for everyone, and that every individual is, during the course of their life here on earth, presented with the choice to accept that salvation, and thus enter a personal relationship with Jesus and eventually go to heaven.  Abby believes that at creation, God chose certain people to be saved and others to not be saved, and that Christ died for only those God predestined.  As she explained it to me, this means that every "chosen" individual "accepts" Christ because they're already saved, like an outward expression of gratitude.  (Am I making sense?  I think this is it in a nutshell.  I had to ask her to explain it a couple of times.)  She also said that she believes someone who is chosen has to accept Christ, no two ways about it, and someone who isn't predestined can never accept Christ.  

After a long exchange (cut short—at least for the time being, depending on whether she wants to take it up agin later—by her departure to Calculus), we established that what it basically came down to is this:  we both believe that man is created in God's image; the difference lies in that I believe the Fall distorted or corrupted that image, but that there is still a part of every human that longs for God whether they know it or not; and she believes that god's image was erased form humankind in the Fall, and thus that humans are incapable of choosing God over sin without divine intervention ("being forced into it" by predestination, as she put it).

I guess where I get hung up is that it definitely states in the Bible that God doesn't want anyone to perish (2 Peter 3:9; I'm not absolutely positive of the context, but still, I think that verse states God's love pretty explicitly).  If that's true, why would He only choose some people to be saved?  If salvation is irresistible for the chosen, why wouldn't He force salvation on everyone?  Abby specifically said that she doesn't believe the Father's love extends to every human being; I don't understand this either.  If God is love, how can he create something and not love it?

Anyhow, I don't know if we'll continue this discourse later or not.  Definitely neither of us were convincing the other, which is okay.  We were friends having a conversation (even if it did get a bit...lively, haha.).  But I, at least, found it a fascinating discussion.  I've never actually talked to a live Calvinist about their beliefs before.  i've read about it, certainly, but it always sounded pretty far out.  When Abby laid it out, I could sort of see where she's coming from (it doesn't sound as good in print); I just can't agree with it.  I totally see why people take courses on theology.  Even if you can't agree with everything—and even if nobody can know all of the answers for sure this side of heaven—I still think it's one of the most thought-provoking things on the planet.

So, my plan to get a decent night's sleep by going to bed shortly after 11 didn't work out so well.

I went to bed around 11:15ish, was up and down a bit until 11:45ish, finally slumbered off around 1:30 and woke up at 5:13 to the pattering of rain and the cold air in between me and my blankets and the buzzing of a housefly caught in my hair (!) and an iPod that has done yet one more unfathomably dumb thing it's supposedly not designed to do.  The rain was nice; everything else...I could potentially have lived without and been quite content.  Tea, food, a shower.  I can't believe I spent a whole eight and a half months starting school every morning at this time.  My bus rides and my four-hour afternoon break are definitely going to double up as naptime today...

I was going to write a sentence about something else, but I can't write it in the active voice without it sounding ridiculous and I can't write it in the passive voice without ending the sentence with a preposition.  So if I remember, I might just write an entire post on it.

Monday, November 29, 2010

I overheard a girl ranting about how much the newest incarnation of Doctor Who sucks today. It made me curious to see Season 5.

(Emily—I'm five episodes into Season 3.)  

So, my day was long.  And relatively boring.  I went really early to school so I could figure out why the KVCC website wouldn't let me pay my tuition.  Due to my ride-hijacking arrangement with my mother, in order to get to school early at all, I had to go three hours early.  And then it took all of 20 seconds to get it worked out, so I could have done it in the 10 spare minutes I had before class if I'd gone at my normal time.  And I forgot to bring a snack, so I didn't eat all afternoon until about half an hour ago.  And then I sat through two hours of talking about the Romantics and the Realists and the Impressionists and the Modernists and Academic Art (basically, a LOT of 19th-century European painting).  I actually find all of it fairly interesting, but today my mind was off somewhere north of Jupiter's moons.  I hope i took enough notes to pass the exam the day after tomorrow.  Then I went to the library to meet with my group for a group project we're doing this week, and only one other guy showed up.  (We got it worked out after class, though...I'm putting together the portions of the paper everyone is writing.  The other guys are doing the PowerPoint, even though it turns out i'm the only one who's actually used PP before...but one guy was like, "You wanna be a writer?  Girl, this is RIGHT UP YO' ALLEY!")  (The group for this project [business protocol in Italy] consists of me, this middle-aged divorced smoker, and two crazy black guys.  It's interesting...) I also found out that the KVCC library is shelved according the Library of Congress system, which has been bugging me for a while.  Now I know why all the books have eight to ten-digit call numbers.  I also found out that they have a special career section, which explains the random lone bookshelf in the middle of the library thirty feet away from all the other bookshelves.  (I checked out Careers for Introverts and Other Solitary Types, and Careers for Perfectionists and Other Meticulous Types.  Wow, that combination makes me sound like such a standoffishly boring person, hahaha.)  So.  Then I caught the bus, listened to a This American Life podcast, made a cup of tea, read my friends' blog posts, and am now going to bed because I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in several days and I'm exhausted.  Yech.
(Also, one of my fellow honors students Facebooked me to ask if I'd proofread his English essay for him.  Oo, I feel a slight shade of awesome.  But mostly just still tired.)

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Compact Intermittency

How many times can I change in a minute?  Is it any wonder I seem to lack vision, that what was fertile seems to have withered and died, shriveling from wondrous warm black sogginess into dry papery beige dust?  I can't even agree with myself on what flavor of ice cream is my favorite for five minutes (yellow cake batter is a longstanding love, but I'm also partial to moose tracks, lemon custard, and seventeen or so other options—yes, I'm a nightmare in a busy ice cream parlor); how can I possibly make decisions regarding life and identity and future? Who would want me to?  (Most people, apparently.)  I'm moody and neurotic and indecisive.  I put things off. In the space of a moment, how much can I change?  And if I change so much in small space, how much little am I thus changing in a bigger sense?  If the leaves on the tree turn from green to gold to red, it's still a maple tree.  If Kiersten is angry or sad or happy or excited or sleepy or just plain stuffed full of idiosyncrasies, she's still the same old Kiersten.  (Like I've said before, Relient K describes my life.)  It's really hard to stay sane long enough to make myself a better person.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Of blog renovations and Christmas inventory

{My mom's secret to happiness: buy an extra can of sweet potatoes at Thanksgiving so you can make another dish after your oldest daughter wolfs down all the leftovers.} 

I'm considering giving my blog a makeover.  I know, bad form, I've only had it for three months plus a few days.  I played with all the colors to death when I first made it, and I was rather okay with it, and now i'm unsure I that like it all that much, except for the background and sort of the general color scheme.  But I think it looks sort of slapdash, not in the good way (ish).  So if you come back someday soon and it look different, this is why.  I am exercising my power of creative creationer's license over my blog template.  Woo.  I don't know.  perhaps I will leave it as is, in its stately Latin poster-like condition.  Perhaps I will tweak it a bit.  Perhaps I will...not.

I have relatives asking me for my Christmas list.  I swear, this gets harder to draw up every year.  I used to just keep a running tab throughout the year, and then by the time November rolled around I would just add and subtract a couple of things, print it off, and voilà — a fancy shmancy beautifully formatted Christmas list, replete with all the heart and soul of an American girl.  But two years or so ago, I stopped updating it year-round, and now I have to start from scratch.  I have about eight things on my list.  Music and a book or two.  It's really somewhat depressing.  I know there are things I want, but when I go to write them down, my brain fizzles out.  My zones of interest have been narrowing bit by bit, year by year.  I have all of three hobbies, and they're hobbies that several million other people are also semi-obsessed with..  I don't even knit anymore.  So what am I supposed to put on this list?  As much as I love new music, I don't want only stacks of that.  I don't really care about owning more books so much because I wouldn't ask for something I haven't read, and once I've read something once it's probably months and months before I reread it, so the pleasure is gone after a day.  I can ask for hats.  I can ask for clothes, but since Dad discovered Goodwill I really do not need any more of those.  I want a hamster, but that's been ruled out for some time.  I kind of want a snake, but that was never even under consideration.  I want a surprise.  Surprise me.  How hard can that be?  I'm among the most surprisable people in existence.  I just don't know what to ask for anymore...is that good or bad?

Friday, November 26, 2010

Friday. ORIGIN Old English Frīgedæg, named after the Germanic goddess Frigga ; translation of late Latin Veneris dies ‘day of the planet Venus’ ; compare with Dutch vrijdag and German Freitag.

I think we must be the only family in all of Michigan that had no pumpkin pie or snow over Thanksgiving.
I don't know what to write about; I don't.  I spent all day sleeping and playing video games.  (I finally got my Legendary Regulator and Marksman in Star Wars Battlefront II – epic win day.)  I woke up this morning to find the flash drive i've been missing for a week sitting on my stomach (extra unfathomable, because I'd been doing a lot of tossing and turning this morning before really waking up).  I haven't yet done either of the two (2) things on my to-do list for today.  Do you ever have the feeling where you have a holiday with no urgent things to do and you feel guilty for not being unproductive even though there's nothing to put off?  I've been feeling like that today.  i used to just have the time of my life being lazy and now all its zest has been sucked away.  even though I've been spending some quality time with my siblings.

Speaking of which, I think we're going to do a family movie night (The Iron Giant, a movie I have never seen but whose goodness Emily and Tori have been raving about.  i'm rather excited).

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Bending Space and Time To Bring You a Tale of Marvelous Holiday Spirit:

Once, on the twenty-fifth day of the penultimate month of the last year of the first decade of the second millennium, there was a national holiday.  There was a girl who slept late and got up just in time to eat giant cinnamon rolls with her family and watch the Macy's parade.  She wore jeans that smelled like salt and a very purple sweater with a cowl, kindly knitted for her by her grandmother.  She helped make the sweet potato casserole for dinner, and set the table, and played video games with two of her younger brothers.  They turned on the invincibility cheat codes and shot down a few hectomabobs of droids who were trying to invade the Galactic Republic.  She got the Tarzan soundtrack stuck in her head and listened to Enya on her iPod, and explained what a glottal stop was to her family, who don't like Regina Spektor's music.  Then she ate one plate of scrumptious edibles, plus an extra serving of yams and marshmallows.  Her father, oldest younger brother, and she had an in-depth discourse on the fall of historical Prussia, and an argument about past-perfect verb tense.  She and her sister watched the National Dog Show.  She pined after the wire terrier and the Irish setter and the blue-eyed Akita husky.  After sitting around and thinking for a while, she did a tad bit of writing (felicitously, not homework).  She grossly flouted American rules of punctuation in favor of the British rules.  Then she watched the season 2 finale of Doctor Who, glared daggers at her brother for what was probably a good reason, if she could only recall what it was five minutes afterwards, and fain read her friends' NaBloPoMo updates.  The day after that very long-windedly-titled day is called Tomorrow, also known as Friday, and is bound by the laws of the universe to arrive in about nine minutes.  

The girl wrote a story.  

The very long-windedly-titled day was temporarily nicknamed Today, and a pretty first-class day it was, in the unsnowy mitten-shaped land where the girl lived.  
(Especially the sweet potatoes.)

The girl was very thankful for a long list of things, and she spent some time shutting her eyes and clenching her fists and hoping very hard that she will remember to be just as thankful tomorrow, and maybe for the rest of her life.

This is my Wednesday November 24th post.

I finally got my humanities research project done.  And turned in.  Just under the wire.  

I submitted it and then burst into tears.

Wow.

I am SO HAPPY to have that over with.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Politics According To the Kierstenverse.


This is something I’ve been deliberating lately, and today (well, by the time I get around to posting this it will have been last night) I felt compelled to sit down and write about it.  And I am now blogging about it because I know it's a topic that at least some of you who know me well might be interested to read about.
Where do I stand, politically?  I’ve been confused about it ever since I started giving a hoot about politics (somewhere around when I was fifteen-sixteenish).  So I did a little bit of research and a fair amount of thinking (and a lot of talking to myself) over the last couple of days.  
For the purposes of this small explanation, I am going to explore politics in the contemporary, generalized right/left conservative/liberal “Republican/Democrat” terms.
I think I’m somewhere around conservative-to-moderate.  The way I have come to understand it, I tend to be very conservative on anything I view as a moral issue (obviously, as it’s usually the right-wingers that see those issues as moral issues at all); regarding things that I do not see as an matter of morality, I tend more towards the liberal end of the political spectrum.  
For example, I believe that abortion is morally wrong (conservative), but I think the government should make an active effort to erase class distinctions based on gender or race (a liberal position).  Of course, sometimes my views on both sides clash—I definitely believe every human being should have equal rights and opportunities, but I don’t think the government should minimize one person’s efforts and achievements by elevating someone who didn’t put as much effort into bettering themselves to the same status in society.)
(And then there’s the issue of “sexual minorities”...I firmly believe homosexuality is wrong, but I believe just as strongly that people should be loved for who they are even if I cannot approve of their behavior.  So where do I believe the government should treat those people?  How can the legal system treat them as equal citizens without thus necessarily condoning their behavior?  Generally, I take the politically conservative side here, but I always feel a little bit bad about it.)
I’ll take a moment to explain what I mean by “what I see as moral issues”.  As someone who is pro-life, I hear the term abortion and instantly think, “Oh, that’s morally wrong.”  However, someone who is pro-choice doesn’t necessarily hear abortion and go, “Yes, that’s morally right.”  To my understanding, they view it as more of a civic issue than a moral one.  They view abortion as the law’s treatment of women’s rights, where a political conservative views it as the woman’s treatment of another human being.  Pro-life proclaims a baby's right to life; pro-choice heralds a woman's right to autonomy.
In people’s heads, it’s two completely different problems.
The same is true of gay marriage—a politically conservative person probably views it as inherently, basically wrong; where a politically liberal person views it as a basic human right.  
Left and right can agree on a vague, absolute truth—”murder is wrong”—but then cannot agree on what actually constitutes murder.
And then there’s the debates I could care less about—take gun laws, for instance.  Republicans are all for gun rights, Democrats all for beating them down.  I think it’s a pointless argument to waste energy on...but that’s probably because it has basically no bearing on my life, and as long as people aren’t shooting each other with those guns, it isn’t a moral absolute that I think needs to be addressed one way or another.  I really don’t care.
Overall, I would say I am probably fairly moderate, but I would tend to vote for conservative candidates because I am much more ethically and emotionally tied up in the issues on which i take a conservative view.
I could go on for a while outlining my feelings on specific issues.  But I won’t bother, here.  I mainly wanted to get out a basic outline of what I believe, what goes on in my head, the very small parts that I have actually ironed out.  I don’t keep up with enough contemporary politics to have a really good understanding of everything.  I’m only just stepping into the world where this really matters to me, where it all begins to have a much more personal effect on me.  
I think we should reinstitute a theocracy and let God straighten politics out (and thus, I suppose, eliminate politics altogether?).
(That was a hastily made statement that, while generally true, probably isn’t true in the sense of half the implications that just popped into your heads.)

Monday, November 22, 2010

Proportions of Love

"It is probably impossible to love any human being simply too much.  We may love him too much in proportion to our love for God; but it is the smallness of our love for God, not the greatness of our love for man, that constitutes the inordinacy."
       – C. S. Lewis

Funny, that.  Everything we have of value is limited—time, money, space, words, things—even generosity is practically limited—save for love.  

Love is infinite; in its very existence it breeds itself.  

No matter where we are or what we're doing, regardless how many people we know, we can just go on loving them and loving them right on into ridiculousness.  What would be an destructive amount of love for a human being on its own is righted if our love for God is bigger than even our crazy love for that person.  If God is the source and primary focus of our love, we can love infinitely, and far from being excessive or unhealthy, it is a form of growth and definitely a thing of beauty ("a joy forever").  

If we understand what healthy love is, we cannot love man too much; only love God too little.  

If the Creator of love is not the source of love, than our love is not love but something else entirely.
If the Inspiration of love is not beloved, than any earthly beloved is not truly loved.

Can we give unconditional love without first receiving it?  Can we interpret something when we cannot even speak its native language?  Can we know how to love others without learning to love the One who loved us first?  Can any human this side of heaven know how to love the invisible God more than the visible earth, more than the visible man, more than the tangible self?

If love is the greatest, the most indestructible, the most infinite thing of all, the highest glory of human existence, how dare we reduce it to a mere emotion?

How do we understand and experience the amazing impossibility of loving God too much?

Sunday, November 21, 2010

I was thinking today...

  • that I really miss riding horses.
  • That Jesus does a freaking amazing job of proving Himself even when we don't deserve it.
  • That coffee tastes just that much better with a smidgen of English toffee syrup.
  • That crying is a good thing to do.
  • That inspiration is one of the best gifts.
  • That China must house a third of the world's population or somethin', from the way they attract news stories.
  • That human hands are pretty darn versatile.
  • That chocolate is fun to stash away for a rain check.
  • That joggers who live in Richland need to have their brains checked.
  • That American rules of punctuation suck.
  • That my friends give the best hugs ever.
  • That Carmen Sandiego was way more fun to hunt down than Waldo ever was.
  • That my teapot needs a name.
  • That my laptop needs a name.
  • That the mouse running all over our family room is adorable, even if my mother thinks the opposite.
  • That Facebook should just buck up and work.
  • That time management skills are way more elusive than they ought to be, considering their necessity.
  • That I would do just about anything to be telekinetic.
  • That society has gotten very boringly modern.
  • That I should move to Scandinavia, if only to find people who know how to pronounce my name on the first try.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

I embark on an Investigation of my best Pair of Socks.

Considering how much I love collecting information—considering how much relatively meaningless trivia I have filed away in my brain—considering how I spend literally hours just article-hopping on Wikipedia—considering I am notorious in my household for using Google on my laptop like a sixth limb (coming after all my natural four limbs plus my iPod)—considering LOTR Trivial Pursuit is one of the only board games I have retained a love for playing since the age of ten—

—it is really astonishing to me how passionately I despise doing school research.  Research is the ultimate drudgery of homework.  I dread no assignment more than "research essay".  I think I would rather be put through a math major program than do three courses' worth of research projects.  Short of divine inspiration, research with a purpose (especially topic-hunting) is the kibosh to my happiness and any aims of productivity and diligence.

An investiture of determination would do me wonders.

But alas (poor Yorick!)—I am saddled only with a deadline, chronic procrastination, and a mysterious leaden lump that seems to have taken up residency in the bottom of my stomach. 

Is this useful?  

Persuade me.  

I dare you, double dare you; I really double-sonic-screwdriver-tag-you're-it-truth-is-not-an-option-dare you.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Harbor without an anchor.

I am attempting to draw a picture of a lighthouse embedded in a floating rock.  It's a lot harder than i thought it would be.  The rock wasn't bad, because I've been doodling all kinds of meteorite fragments lately, but the lighthouse is astonishingly elusive.  If I didn't need to make it obvious that it was in fact a lighthouse, I would bury the top of it in a cloud or something, because that's the part I can't seem to get right.  (Even with the help of the trusty Google Images.)  Even a very simplified version.  But the rock is coming along nicely. Im trying to decide what else to put in the sky.  Maybe some balloons or a lone melancholy person or a gingerbread house or something.   I always draw clouds, and as much as I like them, they seem more doodleish than drawing-worthy at the moment.

It just occurred to me that having a floating lighthouse is really pointless. I think I can turn this into a profound metaphor...



—————————

Still sweep the spectres through the sky,
   Still scud the clouds before the storm,
Still naked in the howling night
   The red-eyed light-house lifts its form.
Without, the world is wild with rage,
   Unkenneled demons are abroad,
But with the father and the son
   Within, there is the peace of God.

(Fitz James O'Brien, from "Minot's Ledge" lighthouse poem)

Thursday, November 18, 2010

synopsis #

I am going to attempt to compose a post that is more interesting and less egocentric than me whining and regretting having not invited myself to go with someone seeing Harry Potter 7 tonight.  i'm super jealous.  But...I'm not the only one not going to see it.  And I'm sure I'll work out some way to see it while it's still in theaters...so...

Word to the wise (or literarily inclined):  Don't—do not—ever never—read the Wikipedia synopses of future books in a series you haven't finished yet.  It wreaks havoc.  And it's just not very fun.

I have to do some research for my humanities project and make a start on at least one of my career-decision-making papers.  And I'm going to mix some hot chocolate.  And stop feeling pathetically sorry for myself, because that's no fun for anyone.  So...this is probably an exceedingly tedious and dull post, and I apologize.

On one cheerful side note—I am officially loving Doctor Who.  Eight episodes in—yes.  Time Lord wins.

And A Very Potter Musical (I'm about seven minutes into the second act) is hilarious (slightly mature content aside). Except that Voldemort (who's probably my favorite character in this adaption) looks a lot like Kristen Stewart, which is semi-distracting.  
(That's not intended to reflect poorly on Kristen Stewart in any way, shape, or form. [Or on Voldemort, for that matter...] It's just a fact.)

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Harried of Musical Warfare Lately? (Or, I Think I Need To Relegate My TV Show Intake To the Afternoons.)

I had two dreams last night,
that a mob of secret agents and I
traveled through time 
and had to dress up in long black robes and ties 
and vanquish an army of undead Death Eaters on horses 
by crowding into a puppet auditorium
and singing insults at them.  

After fourteen hours, we won.

Then everybody shook hands
and threw confetti.

It was a war so famous that the people in that land 
(it was a paper cutout version of Slovakia, I heard) 
printed transcripts of it on cereal boxes.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

An Argument of Ghosts

I carried around a bruised apple in my bag all day, and now all my schoolbooks smell like Rainier organic honeycrisp.  

I didn't get all my graphs done for Mathematical Ideas today. my double bar graph about the use of different fuels in the U.S. since 1998 didn't work out, and I didn't have time to make it to the multiple comparison line graph. I feel kind of freaked out; I don't think I've ever come to class in my life (well, the year and a half I've been "coming to" class) without all my homework finished.  But my professor was all "Don't worry about it."  (Being a well-behaved A student is a neat thing in a pinch.)

We were discussing persuasive techniques in Honors Writing & Research today and our professor, as an example exercise, had us come up with arguments for and against the existence of ghosts.  This started an epidemic of "OHMIGOSH this happened to me once and it was SO SCARY" stories.  It was actually really fun.  We came up with eight arguments for the existence of ghosts and four against.  Then we decided it was a semi-pointless argument, since one side can't really disprove the other's; it can only provide alternatives (for example, science can't prove that someone's ghost sighting was only a figment of the imagination; it can only say "This might have been what happened."  Even if they use all their arguments and support, and address the weaknesses in the other side's arguments, neither side can actually say absolutely "This was a ghost" or "You imagined this".)  It was pretty interesting. 
Then he assigned us a persuasive essay to be due in a week, which was quite the enthusiasm damper.

They showed a documentary film here at Valley today called The Human Experience.  I'm not sure what it was about, but the tagline looked pretty interesting:  "Did we forget what it means to be human?" (Maybe it was totally weird. I don't know.)  I considered going to see it, but it met at the exact same times as both of my classes (naturally).

(I just realized that I put "today" in the first sentence of every paragraph in this post.  That kind of bugs me.)

...Googly eyes scared me as a little kid. True story.  o0

Monday, November 15, 2010

Staples.

Today in Modern Culture & the Arts, someone played part of a SpongeBob clip that sparked a forty-five minute discussion about swearing in front of children.  Then we talked about Caravaggio and Rembrandt and Vermeer using a documentary series written by a nun named Sister Wendy (whose gargantuan Story of Painting book I totally checked out from the library three years ago.  I felt so epic when I found out we were studying her interpretations).

Then I got on my Facebook and laughed at my sister's suggestion that I name my teapot Clive Staples.  

Then I printed lots of stuff.

Then I lent out my mini stapler to eighteen people.  (No relation to Clive Staples.)

Then I listened to a guy from the Student Success Center talk about interpreting our StrengthQuest Top 5 Strengths.  (Mine are Intellection, Input, Adaptability, Connectedness, and Empathy.  I'll probably write (a) post(s) about this later.)  Then I managed to catch the 8:45 bus and got home an hour early.  Then I decided to write a blog post by starting a lot of sentences with meaningless conjugative prepositional adverbs. 

(Not really, but it turned out like that.)

Now I am going to follow Hannah's YouTube link and watch part of A Very Potter Musical, because I am bored and feel like taking a respite from homework, since that's what I spent all my "alone time" doing for the last six days.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

My "just because" gift from a lovely lady—

As of this morning, I own a teapot!  Janet Mueller bought it for me  "just because."  :)  I am über excited about this.  When I was little I wanted a tea set.  I asked for teapots for Christmas and got two doll-size sets (which I still have in my closet), but now I own a real person-size teapot! (And it comes with a teacup.)

According to the box, it was designed in England by a company based in Kentucky, made in China, packaged in Mexico, and sold in the United States.  It's a very well-traveled teapot. 

It has pictures of books and names of classical authors on it, so it seems well time-traveled and literarily versed, also.  I think we'll get on fabulously.

It doesn't have a name yet (I, too, am taking suggestions.  There seems to be an epidemic of incognito teapots going around this week).   







Saturday, November 13, 2010

*cue choir* the moment of unparalleled epiphany. . .

...when you've been stuck on the same paper for FOUR HOURS
and then
you "get" it
and you draft your final three pages in twenty minutes
and instead of being too torpid to concentrate
you're too hyperadrenalized to sleep
even though
it's midnight
and now
there's no longer any homework rearing balefully in the gap
between you
and rapturous slumbery bliss.
but you're too high on the geekiness
of your beautiful introspectively researched eureka
to even think about
devoting more time
to something
so stunningly mundane.


...I just had that moment.


...thank you Jesus.

Where is a Hershey's chocolate bar with almonds when I need one?

Today, I am attempting to think hard—without thinking too hard, lest my brain melt down and leak uselessly out of my ears.

I am researching "my ideal career" for a paper of indefinite length, writing a six-page paper on "exploring my values", creating graphs, researching 1500-word articles on the use of figures of speech in print advertising to quote for a project, working on my annotated bibliography about gender complementarianism for English, reading about the Reformation for an online quiz, and peer reviewing summaries of The Economist articles. 

Today, homework is the bane of my blithe existence. 

I [seriously seriously] doubt I can get all of this done today, but The School of Ministry people are coming to New Day and The Iglesia tomorrow, and I don't want to miss out on that in favor of homework.  I m trying not to think about all of it at once, because this would trigger a meltdown, which would be roughly equivalent to [less productivity than before].  Why, oh why (I berate myself belatedly) did I not do more homework yesterday?  I only filled out an outline about graph distortion and got about two pages of that "exploring my values" paper written.  I had virtually nothing else to do yesterday—but today is my day to clean the kitchen.  And the bathroom.    And continue trekking through the literary travails of homework...yes, I'm whining; I'm not very sorry for it.  This is my blog post for the day.  I have nothing else to say; nor have I more time to write, at present.  Adieu.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Blink [intrans.] / boggle [trans.]

Untied people
Floating in an abyssal, frameless world 
Full of neon color and blank promises,
Frenzied heights and vicious depths.
I feel the peaceable embrace of my own anchor,
The warm arms and the cool breeze
Wrapped around me in a vibrant scarf of truth.
Are those who have nothing eternal to which to hold,
Lesser than me in their ignorance,
Or greater than me for all their need?
My eternity is cared for,
But even their ephemeral lives sway with the tide.
Sandwiches and wine and cayenne chocolate cake,
Do they know into what blender they toss their souls?
Untied people
Who have nothing but temporal hymns to sing,
No atonement to hold up in words,
No embrace but that will break and crumble:
A parachute that is already torn.
What eyes might I direct to the eternal?
If only courage was my squire.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

I don't really NEED a duck...snuggly or otherwise.

Deepness, I spurn you. 
I am going to write something utterly shallow and futile.  
Such as, "I like grapes."
Except — can you say anything shallow these days?  Can you say anything without having it overanalyzed?  Without an ulterior agenda?  Without accidentally saying something profound about God or about yourself or about the universe?

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Five Minutes to Midnight

11:55 p.m. screams of deadlines.  Of all the things I did not do today.  Of grossly unedited reviews of British news magazines crammed in just under the deadline.  Of all the reasons I am awake and huddled frigidly over my keyboard instead of curled up under my heavy warm blankets with the pictures of horses on them.

I despise that moment, when I let fly an offhanded glance at the clock (oh, the unintended puns in that half a sentence; pardon me as I take this parenthetical statement to cringe in agony) and realize the planet is about to tick past another hour in its millennia-old orbit, that my laptop header is about to sway from "Wed Nov 10" to "Thu Nov 11" and there is so much I could have gotten done, and didn't, and now I've lost two hours of sleep and six hours of potential productivity and now tomorrow will be less productive because my unfinished work from today will spill over into tomorrow like Digory and Polly spilled over into Charn and dragged the future White Witch all over the universe. What have I lost but yet another bubble of my fragile, ever-dwindling time?  What have I lost but all the lusted-for perfection that would make me as inhuman as the vampires I hate so much in contemporary teen fiction?  What have I lost but sleep and stress and the remedy to loneliness?  11:55 p.m. is the loneliest minute in all of the slightly-more-than-eighteen-and-a-half-year-old history of Kiersten.  At 11:55 p.m. all my daily dreams slip into the untested time stream of tomorrow's would-be-should-be-could-be moments, yet to be tasted.  And I trudge through the gooey tangled forest of the "must-be-done-now!" homework, and debate whether to wade through the river of "should-be-done-extremely-soon!" homework, and try to run through Jell-O away from the looming black thunderheads of "should-be-thought-about!" homework.  And then I do a couple of push-ups, consider writing down the spilled-over list of things to be done, poke holes in my consciousness with a melatonin, and go skydiving into a sleep fraught with more subconscious promises about tomorrow.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Elf-knots of thoughts.

I feel as though I have nothing deep and meaningful to write.  You may have noticed I failed to post yesterday.  I'm frustrated with my voyage into NaBloPoMo.  

I just don't have enough time to think.

I've always heard that college students who are serious about their homework don't have enough time to do that homework, sleep, and carry on a social life.  I've always been a bit of a loner, so my social life is continuing at about the same rate.  I'm not getting as much sleep, but that's not due to lack of time.  I'm feeling the loss very much in terms of space to think.  Intellectualism has lost a faithful follower.  I spend a lot of time being introspective, or pondering mysteries that have no bearing on my life.  (I thought that when I started this blog I could write about some of it, but not much has come up.)  I feel so stuffed in by the necessity of making deadlines and keeping to schedules and "prioritizing" all the things I have to do...there is no time for all of the impractical, or less tangibly practical, thinking that needs to be done.  My mind feels so tied up in itself that I have no creative flow anymore. It's been weeks since I've written a halfway decent poem and longer since I've done any fiction writing longer than a sentence or two.  Every time I sit down my mind goes, "But, Kiersten, YOUR BRAIN DOESN"T WORK, remember?  You broke it trying to keep up with your schoolwork."  And maybe I have.  It surely feels like I at least pulled some gooey grey cerebral muscle up there.  I never much liked mentally cooperating with practicality, and now I feel interminably mired in practicality.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Today had a number of highlights, which I am going to just sort of ramble through.


1. Seeing Hannah Duke at church!  Yay!  She's been in the (seemingly) faraway land of Ann Arbor for two-plus months and I missed her the last time visited (because of a very badly behaved paper I was trying to write last-minute).  But I saw her this morning!  And she was happy and huggable and I gave her some Madagascar vanilla rooibos tea.  (Which I hope she enjoys.)
2. (Thanks to the awesome Oman family who gave me a ride and a ticket) I made it up to Ferris to see the closing show of Hairspray, in which Lindsay and Jordan Cyr were fantastic.  (Jordan as Edna Turnblad was absolutely hysterical.)  And sitting with the entire Cyr clan (minus Dan) and the entire Tafil clan and the majority of the Lindauer clan...was an experience.  It was so great.  We all laughed so hard (to the extent that we were getting some very odd looks, and even laughs, from fellow audience members).  At one point everyone was quiet while the stagehands were changing sets—it was right after Jordan danced in a bright pink dress—and Noah (who I believe is 8 or so) turned around and whispered, "That was REALLY WEIRD."  And most of the audience cracked up.  It was definitely an experience.  Even if it was really last-minute, I am glad I decided to go!
3.  I'd had a headache all day (and no ibuprofen), and God healed it at C&C.  And I met this guy whose youth group I'd visited once about 15 months ago, and he recognized me even though I was wearing contacts, my hair was almost a foot shorter, and a different color, and he'd never seen me with a hat on before.  I thought that was impressive.  And Chloe called me "YOU SPARKLING CHILD OF THE LORD!" which was just pretty epic.
So—that's pretty much it for today, because it's after eleven and I'm tired and hyper and have some humanities homework to finish up before I go to bed.  So this post will be very unedited and I'll probably read it back tomorrow and moan over its lack of spit and polish.  However...goodnight.