bright lights

Strawberry lemonade

2011-07-22T00:23:00.000-07:00

This is maybe my fifth attempt at writing about my experiences so far this summer. Now I'm a fairly verbose person, at least when it comes to the written word; my problem hasn't been thinking of words to describe my summer; it's been thinking of the right words to describe my summer.

So much traveling has happened during the past three months, beginning with a tri-continental celebratory grad trip and ending perhaps with a quick jaunt to Colorado for a family reunion in two weeks. And in each of the places that I've visited so far, I've left little pieces of my heart.

There's a piece of my heart in a barn in Lula, Georgia.

There's a piece of my heart at the very top of the London Eye.

There are pieces of my heart scattered among the trees surrounding Hume Lake.

And there are big ol' chunks of my heart on the back of an elephant, in the middle of a township, behind that sign at the Cape of Good Hope, all in South Africa.

I have a lot more to say about my summer (I'm hoping my thoughts will float to the surface soon), but for now, I'll leave it at this: all the life I've been living so far this summer tastes like a tall glass of strawberry lemonade with sugar around the rim.

I don't want to overdo it on the strawberry lemonade, but it tastes mighty delicious for now.

Freedom

2011-06-21T12:01:00.000-07:00

How do real grown-up adults introduce themselves to each other?

For the past four years, I have introduced myself by stating my name, hometown, major, and which dorm I live in. I'm not totally sure what the adult version of that is.

I was at the airport in London the other day and had a bit of a crisis moment. The woman at the Customs counter asked me what my occupation was because I had forgotten to fill in that section on those little sheets they hand out on the plane.

"I'm a stu---" I began to say before I realized I couldn't actually claim to be a student anymore (I finished my undergrad degree about a month ago). That's when the panic began to set in.

I have absolutely nothing going on in my life at the moment. No job, no romantic partner, no apartment of my own. I don't even have any close friends in the surrounding area. And I really don't think I'm the only recent grad in this position (thanks a lot, recession).

So I had a little bit of a panic attack at the airport before my dad finally answered the question for me.

"She's a writer," he said. "A freelance writer."

Yeah, I'm sure that didn't look suspicious at all to the Customs lady (although she did agree to let me into the country).

The point is that my dad had it right: because I have no claim to anything or anyone, I can be whoever I want to be. I may be at a point in my life in which I am hopelessly lost, but I am also absolutely free.

Did you hear that, other recent grads who may be in this same position? We. Are. Free. And I don't know about you guys, but I am planning to use that freedom to write like the wind about this peculiar stage of life.

So here I am. My name is Rheanna, I grew up in the heart of the Andes Mountains in South America, I majored in English, and I am currently living in South Orange County, CA. And these are my musings on what it means to be a hippie vagabond wanderer gypsy freelance writer. Or whatever it is I claim to be today.

Welcome to freedom.

On Dating

2009-11-19T18:34:00.000-08:00

"There are three possible parts to a date, of which at least two must be offered: entertainment, food, and affection. It is customary to begin a series of dates with a great deal of entertainment, a moderate amount of food, and the merest suggestion of affection. As the amount of affection increases, the entertainment can be reduced proportionately. When the affection IS the entertainment, we no longer call it dating. Under no circumstances can the food be omitted."

-Miss Manner's Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior, via Bon Appétit, Sandra Byrd

Where I Live

2009-11-19T18:25:00.000-08:00

The dreaded conversation happened again today.

One of my newer co-workers was just trying to be friendly to me by inquiring as to how classes were going. I responded with the usual "fine, but busy" and thought the conversation was over, until she continued with the question I will never have a real answer to:

"So where do you live?"

"On campus, just down the road," I replied, hoping this would be sufficient.

"No, like where do you live?" She asked again.

Where do I live? Oh please, let me tell you:

I was born in Los Angeles, spent several years in Lancaster, grew up in Ecuador, became a person in Dana Point, and attend university in Azusa. Although my family still lives in Ecuador, next year they're moving to South Orange County, but already they're inhabiting an apartment I've spent less than six months in.

"My parents live in Ecuador," I finally respond.

It takes her a moment to recognize the fact that I just named a foreign country. "Wait, Ecuador?"

"Mmhmm."

"Like you were raised there?"

"Yep."

"Wow," she says, "I never would have guessed."

I think that's a good thing.

"So like what's it like up there?"

Trying to ignore the fact that she just identified my South American country as being somehow "up" from where we are, I respond as nicely as possible that it's really different and fun "up" there.

And she chuckles to herself, makes one more comment about how she never would have guessed, and exits the room.

REJECT

2009-11-03T15:32:00.000-08:00

"It's no good. When someone leaves you, apart from missing them, apart from the fact that the whole little world you've created together collapses, and that everything you see or do reminds you of them, the worst is the thought that they tried you out and, in the end, the whole sum of parts adds up to you got stamped REJECT by the one you love. How can you not be left with the personal confidence of a passed-over British Rail sandwich?"

-Bridget Jone's Diary, Helen Fielding

Luke 19:28-44

2009-10-24T11:27:00.000-07:00

After telling this story, Jesus went on toward Jerusalem, walking ahead of his disciples. As he came to the towns of Bethphage and Bethany on the Mount of Olives, he sent two disciples ahead. “Go into that village over there,” he told them. “As you enter it, you will see a young donkey tied there that no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks, ‘Why are you untying that colt?’ just say, ‘The Lord needs it.’”

So they went and found the colt, just as Jesus had said. And sure enough, as they were untying it, the owners asked them, “Why are you untying that colt?"

And the disciples simply replied, “The Lord needs it.” So they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their garments over it for him to ride on.

As he rode along, the crowds spread out their garments on the road ahead of him. When he reached the place where the road started down the Mount of Olives, all of his followers began to shout and sing as they walked along, praising God for all the wonderful miracles they had seen.

“Blessings on the King who comes in the name of the Lord!

Peace in heaven, and glory in highest heaven!”

But some of the Pharisees among the crowd said, “Teacher, rebuke your followers for saying things like that!”

He replied, “If they kept quiet, the stones along the road would burst into cheers!”

But as he came closer to Jerusalem and saw the city ahead, he began to weep. “How I wish today that you of all people would understand the way to peace. But now it is too late, and peace is hidden from your eyes. Before long your enemies will build ramparts against your walls and encircle you and close in on you from every side. They will crush you into the ground, and your children with you. Your enemies will not leave a single stone in place, because you did not accept your opportunity for salvation.”

Stepping Stones

2009-10-20T01:52:00.000-07:00

"I met my wife," said Mr. Hart. "When I did, it all made sense. She reminded me of everyone I'd had a relationship with before. I think I must have fallen in love with bits of her that were in other people. Relationships are like stepping-stones."

"They are?"

"Sure! Every relationship is another stepping-stone on the way to where you're going. You've got to step from one stone to the next because there aren't any shortcuts, but each step you take you're getting closer."

"Closer to what?"

"Finding out what makes you happy."

- A Winter Night's Dream, Andrew Matthews

Gracias por la lluvia

2009-10-14T09:36:00.000-07:00

I wrote this one morning on my way to school in high school. In my head, it's also set to music.

I love the rain, especially in So Cal where it never rains. It makes everything seem a fairytale world, with the sky dark and daunting like some foreign prince has taken the sun captive, but at the same time, the sound of raindrops steadily dropping is such a comforting sound. And walking in the rain? Might be the best thing ever:

It's another rainy day

My world is cloudy and grey

I can't stop thinking about all you've done for me

It's the beginning of a new week

Pressure comes with no break

Will I push you out of my mind and forget?

I want to praise you
for the things you've done
that have kept me going on,
going strong.
I want to sing to you
the glories of your Precious Name.

Thank you for the rain

Oh God

It's beautiful, beautiful

Thank you for the rain

Oh God

It's beautiful, beautiful

Thank you

october update

2009-10-05T15:35:00.001-07:00

i haven't written without capitalization in ages for anything other than instant messaging and the occassional poem. (i don't know why im'ing makes me not capitalize; it must be some kind of inner urge to make it as "instant" as possible.) i used to write like this before, when i thought i had to be just like everyone else. then i realized that my strength lies in my written word and if my written word isn't uniquely me from every point of view, i may as well be everyone else.

i would like to be a roller derby girl for halloween, but i don't know where to find roller skates, so i'll probably just be a reindeer instead. i came home last night and my roommate was listening to christmas music; this sparked a two-woman rendition of santa baby at the top of our lungs and later, an attempted trip to the hot tub, which was thwarted by a group of praying hot tub-ers (seriously, who prays in the hot tub?) so we played foosball and ping pong instead and my roommates dominated. anyway, we were enlisted by our college group to plan a halloween party, so all of this together resulted in the decision to be "christmas" for halloween.

we had world vision chapel this morning, which basically means that the world vision office leader, choripan (at least that's how it sounds) uses this time to honor the handful of students who went on missions last year by way of international music, personal recollection of experiences, and lots of clapping and whoo'ing. there was also a video that showed images of all the places apu students ministered to. it made me feel homesick.

this is just a note to let you know that i'm still here.

What I'm Looking For

2009-10-04T01:00:00.000-07:00

From March 2009:

I don’t want to come out of college with an engagement ring plastered on my finger. I want to fall in love on my own time and have my pick of the world when it comes to finding my future spouse. I don’t want to limit myself to the boys I go to school with because, as nice as they are, they’re still just boys. I want to literally search the earth for a person who, metaphorically speaking, completes me.

And this is the kind of man I want:

A man who is sensitive, but not to the point of being more sensitive than me.
A tall man with broad shoulders.
A man with a sense of humor.
A creative man.
A man who knows how to write and use proper grammar/spelling.
A romantic man (but not too sappy).
A man who can sing.
A man with energy and passion.
A man who loves Jesus in a way that isn’t your cliché American Christian way.
A man with big hands.
A man who can play at least one instrument.
A man who has spent a significant amount of time in a country other than the U.S.
A man who goes against the grain.
A tough man.
A man who is older than me, if not physically, then in emotional and maturity years.

I’m not bemoaning my lack of a man at the present. On the contrary, I’m perfectly fine flirting and exchanging coy looks and text messaging five boys at the same time. This is fun and this is what college is all about.

I am bemoaning my lack of life, though, and I’m quickly coming to the understanding that I will not and cannot find that kind of thrilling, transitory, and inspiring life that I desire on your typical American college campus. So I’ll wait and long for a way to seek out this kind of life, rather than a boy who will become my “happily ever after.”

The Time I Was On Steroids And My Family Made Fun Of Me

2009-10-02T14:20:00.000-07:00

Picture this: it's the summer of '05 and the Russ Clines have just moved to beautiful Dana Point, CA to partake in a 7-month-long vacation from reality. We're all moved into our new house and celebrating seaside weather by eating most of our meals on the patio and visiting the ocean as often as we want. Because we've just moved, the younger members of the family are virtually without friends (except for the occasional friendly face we see during the youth group our parents make us attend) so we're mostly hanging out with each other, dabbling in the art of makeup (yes, even Riley) and XBox and attempting to learn how to surf.

So it's the middle of summer and time is about to start passing more rapidly as the beginning of school approaches and we're enjoying one of our leisurely-spent breakfasts on our back patio when suddenly the peace is disturbed as one of my hilarious family members cracks a joke and we all partake in showing our amusement at the hilarity.

"Rheanna," Riley interrupts my grumpy morning-time revelry, "what's wrong with your face?"

I look into the window that I'm facing and have no idea what he's talking about.

"No, try smiling," my mom says.

So I smile and realize that there is something amuck with the reflection looking back at me in the window: try as I might, half of my mouth will not turn upward.

My family members laugh. Yes. They laugh. They laugh, they tease, they joke, and all the time my head is racing through all the possibilities of what could possibly be wrong with me. I'm thinking maybe a bug bit me during the night, or maybe I sprained a muscle, or maybe I accidentally took a muscle relaxant with the bite of scrambled eggs that my parents insisted I eat. (I have a natural aversion to scrambled eggs, mostly because the yellow color reminds me what they really are, but my parents think that if I don't get any protein in my breakfast, I will die. Or something.) It was a very traumatizing experience. Myself, living through this internal agony, while my family made fun of me.

Eventually I convince my parents that something is actually wrong with my face and they take me to the pediatrician (pediatrician! at 16 years of age!) who informs me that half of my face is paralyzed because I have Bell's Palsy, I will need to take steroids to try to make it go away, and even if my face does go back to normal, I will always have Bell's Palsy and it could show up any time in my life. So I go on steroids and my family continues to mock me, making comments about my impending manliness due to the steroids.

My face eventually went back to normal, but the trauma because of this experience will always live on inside me.

(I also eventually forgave my family, even though Riley still says that my name means "one who looks like man" in ancient languages.)

Breathing

2009-09-28T15:36:00.001-07:00

If you've had any kind of contact with me over the past week or so, you probably have noticed that I have been a tad stressed out, which, you know, isn't that big of a deal. It happens to everyone; I've just been having a hard time dealing with it lately. So this is me dealing with it:

Things About My Life That Make Me Happy

1. My brand new Art Minor. Last week, I decided on the spur of the moment to declare a minor in Art, based on my thorough enjoyment of classes such as Ceramics and Women in Art, and so far haven't reconsidered.

2. The fact that I am not a freshman. Every year, the freshman class gets bigger and bigger (literally) and I become more and more grateful that I am older, wiser, more experienced, and altogether "with it" more than I was as a freshman. I love that I am an upperclassman, I love that I live almost off campus in The Village, and I love that the kind-of-annoying freshmen in my upper division classes just serve the purpose of making me feel smarter. Thank you, semi-annoying freshmen, and next time, don't take upper division classes during your first semester of college!

3. My apartment. Although it is lacking a little in cleanliness these days, my apartment is my favorite place to be in Azusa. Thanks to the lovely organizing and decorating skills of my mother and roommates, the apartment has become a comfortable place pulled together by my favorite colors (or non-colors, considering they are all neutral) and accented with splashes of bright happiness.

4. My roommates. I have incredibly supportive roommates and I like them. It's kind of one of those win-win situations.

5. Having classes that require me to read things I should have read in high school. Yes, I know I complained about Jane Austen to death and Mark Twain almost made me drop American Lit, but as I get deeper into my English classes, I'm realizing how great it is that I get to read American classics and stories about courtship from the Victorian Period as homework. Seriously. It's really great.

6. Independence. I have the freedom to do what I want when I want to do it, regardless of the hour or how much other stuff I need to get done first, without having to tell anyone what I'm doing. I also have the space to figure out who I am and why I do the things I do and it is a wonderful thing.

7. Long, almost normal-colored hair. I cut my hair short about a year and a half ago and it's finally back to the length I like. It also is almost back to my natural color after about three years of wrestling with blacks and reds and too-dark browns.

8. College group(s). At the moment, I am involved in two college groups, full of interesting and new people. I never thought I would say this, but I am beginning to love connecting with new people every week.

9. This exciting time of life. My friends and I are embarking on our 20's and I am loving hearing about semesters abroad and first-time I love you's and even weddings (although these terrify me at the same time). I can't wait to see (and hear about) what happens next.

It's good.

Love me

2009-09-23T23:06:00.001-07:00

The window's open and smoke is getting in my eyes, except
not like how they say it does in the song, it's a literal smoke
with literal embers drifting drifting through the screen. "Love
me," they seem to say, and I have to agree with them because
I'm just sitting on this couch with nothing to do except let the
smoke in my eyes. I want something more to do, something
to occupy me while I wait (for the thing I've been waiting for
all my life), but there's nothing to do so I just sit and think all
about the things I wish I could be doing instead while this
whole time circuitous thoughts have been running in and out
my ears and I have this pressure on my chest that makes it
hard to pretend to be normal. I have food in my refrigerator,
but it's nothing I want to eat, not even the cookie dough ice
cream, which used to be my favorite, because there's nothing
inside me that's hungry except a low growl that is misinter-
preted too often. And this is my life right now, this is what
I'm stuck with. If you were here, you would fix me, I know.

Why I Need People

2009-09-20T09:58:00.001-07:00

Human connections are important. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand the value of community and relationships and everything that goes along with those. As human beings, we need to know that there are other people who are like us, who think the same way and feel the same things, who are passionate about the same areas, who need us just like we need them.

The other day, I was texting my roommate and resolved that she needed something to cheer her up, due to a stressful day at work. So I drove to a Starbucks to pick up our favorite drinks. While I was waiting for the barista to make our Passion Iced Tea Lemonade and Pumpkin Spice Frapp, I had a short conversation with another customer about the merits of Mocha Chip Frappuccinos (Human Connection #1 of my story.)

After receiving the drinks, I surprised Roommate at the church office she works in (Human Connection #2). Roommate was happy to see me and I was happy to make her happy, in the same way that she has made me happy in countless ways during the two years of our friendship.

I didn't have anywhere I needed to be, so I drove with Roommate to pick up one of the students she works with from the train station. There was a church event happening that night and the student just needed a way to get there. I'd never met Student before, but as soon as we picked her up, I introduced myself and immediately felt comfortable in the way that only happens between two like-minded and -souled people (Human Connection #3).

After all of this Human Connection, I decided to stay and help at the church event that Roommate was helping to put on and felt decidedly more connected than I have felt in a very long time.

John Donne said that "no man is an island entire of itself" and he was right. We can try to live like hermits and create shells that swallow us whole, but eventually we realize that we need to feel connected with other humans in the same way that we need to breathe air and drink water and eat food. Without those connections, we become lost inside ourselves, like islands falling into the sea.

Dust to Dust

2009-09-17T00:24:00.001-07:00

More from 2007:

you want to know something ridiculous? that's what i'm most afraid of. that i won't make a difference in anybody's life. that i'll just be some girl from some other world.

i don't want to just leave dust all over other people's lives. dust is annoying and you always try to flick it off but it doesn't really go anywhere. it's pointless and useless and leaves dirty marks.

Boundaries; or Why I Would Like To Do Anything For You

2009-09-16T23:03:00.000-07:00

May 2, 2007: found in my Bible as Lit notebook.

Maybe this is how I'll always
feel; looking back on the occurrences
that drenched my spirit in
lighter fluid, then tossed me in
the flames (even though it takes a
while for things to catch on fire in
the altitude, it still happens eventually).
Maybe I'll be stuck with my confusion,
frustration, bitter prejudation tinting
all of my memories and convincing me
that nothing worth it happened at all.
(Except for you, that is. You made my
year. Remember?) But there's the
rub: worthwhile things finally made
it into my semi-non-existent
life. Your smile finally lit up my
days. Your encouragement finally
pushed happiness into my walk. Your
chilvarous notions finally made me
believe (that they're not all like
that "other one" out there in the
real world).
Yes. You made my year worth it.

Summer of our Youth

2009-08-31T23:25:00.000-07:00

Monday night and life is about to begin:
the hurling, unfurling, fleeting flight of humanity, caught
in their quest to return to their holes, some
rushing outside to linger in the sunlight while the rest
are unwelcome to join the whole. One
moment forgotten by few and it still unrolls along the swift
cliff of the beginning. We are the learners
of knowledge, the students of wisdom, but this is not the
most important to-do point now. We are
a school of fish and we've been oceans away for months
too long and this is the time to misbehave,
disobey, soak in the summer of our youth. We will pay
attention to what we must when the time
comes, but for now, this is our day and we will play.

We will play.

Everything Changes But You

2009-08-30T01:23:00.000-07:00

"Finish Last"
Stellar Kart

People change and plans get changed and
Everything changes but you
Everybody moves around and
Everything gets pushed around but you
You always stay the same, stay the same

I want to finish last
Last in the world's eyes
No matter what I do
I will be first in your eyes

I am running in this race and
I am pressing onwards towards the finish line
You have promised me a better life
Far beyond this world, far beyond this place and time

This song has been on my mind lately. The first time I heard this song, I was 16 and I thought I had my whole life planned out. Things changed, as they always do, and a split second later, everything I had planned for had fallen apart.

The problem is that even though we try to pretend like we know what's going on in our lives, we don't. And when everything we thought we had taken care of spins completely out of control, we have to realize that there's only one person who never changes and it's his plans (and his opinion of who we are) that really matters. It's cliché, but so true and so hard to learn.

I am doing a different thing right now than I thought I would be doing a year ago, and that's ok. I'm human and that's just how human plans work. What I need to be thinking about is whether I'm doing what God has planned for me. And as long as I'm doing that, who cares if I'm not exactly where I thought I would be a year ago?

All the time, all the time

2009-08-28T09:38:00.001-07:00

This morning, I was driving to work and doing all of the random stuff I do while I drive, including, but not limited to, having full conversations with myself and reminiscing about where I was going and what was going on the last time I was in Betty (the car), when I finally got to the place where I turn in to get to the parking lot of my office building. As I do every morning, I turned on my left blinker, signaling that I was about to turn left. That's when I looked in my rear view mirror and noticed that there was nobody behind me to care about my blinker.

I'm at a point in my life where sometimes I feel like there's nobody behind me to care about the decisions I make. I'm definitely not saying this is true, because I know there are literally dozens of people who would do anything to help me get out of any mess I may find myself in, but sometimes it feels like I'm alone.

It probably has a lot more to do with the being single thing than I would like to admit. I'm the kind of person who likes to feel responsible for someone, and needed, and most of the time I just don't feel that way. The truth is that I'm still struggling to find my place in this thing we call "college" (but feels like a prison sometimes). And while I'm struggling with that, I can't help but reconsider my decision to spend four years in Southern California. This may be my proximity to several large-ish fires and the smoke and ridiculously hot weather that comes along with that speaking, but there are times when I just don't like it in Azusa. Maybe I should have made decisions that would have brought me to a different place. Or maybe not.

All of this is to say that I know I'm not metaphorically sitting in my car with no one driving behind me. I know that. And, most importantly, I know that God is driving in front of me, meaning that he anticipates my moves before I even consider them. But every once in a while, I think it would probably be nice to have someone driving behind me who doesn't have directions to the place we're going.

Falling in love with love

2009-08-26T22:20:00.000-07:00

I fall in love easily.

This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who knows me. I've been in love maybe hundreds of times in my lifetime. And I'm not just talking about falling in love with boys, although that does happen pretty often. I'm mostly just referring to people, things, ideas, concepts, books, authors, paintings, lyrics, colors that I randomly encounter in life.

It doesn't take much to catch my attention. I like interesting and unusual details that aren't typically found in what I'm experiencing. I like voices that are imperfect, hearts that are broken, flaws and scratches, spelling mistakes (even though they bother me to death), and patterns. I keep an inspiration folder on my computer, full of random items I encounter on the internet, and it's spilling over with beautiful things, maybe things that only I would find beautiful.

Once something has caught my attention, I fall in love in a matter of minutes.

Nightmare

2009-08-19T22:05:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning at 4:22 from the most vivid dream I've had in a long time. After I woke up, I realized that my roommate had turned off our fan and so I was sweltering underneath the piles of covers I insist on sleeping under and this probably had more to do with why I woke up than the dream. But it was still an intense dream and it still had meaning, I think.

When I was younger, I was haunted by my middle school years. Memories of prepubescent cruelty and crushes that never ended well would sneak up behind at the most random of times, forcing me to pull out my dad's old laptop to write story after story of girls who lived perfect lives on beaches and never once forgot who they were. One of the stories that I remember most clearly was called Seven Summer Suns, and it was about a girl named Summer Black who had seven summer romances. I never finished any of the stories because eventually the thing that I really wanted to write about would start leaking out of me and I would abandon my meticulously plotted out charts of which boy Summer liked at which point in time to write semi-autobiographical nonsense.

The thing that I really wanted to write about was a boy named Gun Hi Bae. He was a classmate of mine in 7th grade and a few years preceding that year. He wasn't one of my best friends, but he did sit behind me in my English/History class and sometimes we would make each other laugh. One day in 7th grade, he didn't come to school and our entire class was immediately alarmed because Gun never missed school; he was just one of those kids who either never got sick or never thought it was a good enough excuse to stay home from school. We found out later that his entire family was murdered the previous day because of sketchy business partners of his father, or something like that.

Later that week, we were all invited to his memorial service, and that's where I was in my dream, except it was outdoors and students from my graduating class were there, not my 7th grade class. We were all grown up, too, and I think that's where the nightmare part comes in. We were all grown up and no longer 12 and 13 years old and Gun was still just a 7th grader.

I woke up from this eerie funeral-dream and couldn't stop thinking about a hot tub conversation I had last night regarding the worst thing ever. At 4:22 this morning, I decided on what I think is the worst: Gun's story is the worst and most tragic thing I have ever heard and it's been haunting me for years.

Does my subconscious feel guilty for living through 7th grade? Or is this just my head's way of telling me to start doing something meaningful with my life?

You know what? Who cares? Tragic things happen in the world every day, worse things than what happened to Gun, and I couldn't matter less in that kind of a world. I may have a guilty conscience, but there are people dying out there, right now, and I'm not doing anything to help them.

Proverbs

2009-08-17T22:21:00.000-07:00

She calls to me from the streets,

begging me to turn away from

the simpleminded way of the world.

Her cries tug at my lonely life.

She is the wife of my youth, the

sweet lady of wisdom, and her

advice is what I don’t want to

listen to in this moment.

I’m faced with a decision, two paths

to choose from: one leading into

the growing of the light, the

other disappearing into the falling

darkness. She pulls at my arm,

whispering down the back of my

neck the words to convince me to

choose her way, the way of gleaming dawn.

But the immoral woman is smoother

than oil and it is she who

succeeds in pulling me to her

side; we stumble blindly along

the crooked trail, over

stones and bones, unaware

victims of the deadly decisions

we do not know we are making.

stage parade

2009-08-17T13:05:00.000-07:00

I was wanted once,

a perky yellow daisy afloat in a sea of bound-to-be-exported

roses,

driveling talent wasted and praised.

I was that girl once,

the girl with the smile and the hair and the style, taking her

place

in the center of the stage parade.

I saw clearly once

in a thousand shades of brown, blended at the edges of a

world

of standard blacks and mighty whites.

I am more than what you pretend to see.

Do yourself a favor and know me for what

I truly am.

I am 20 years old.

2009-08-13T10:26:00.000-07:00

I am 20 years old and rapidly growing out
of the things that made me a child. I am 20
years old and no longer a young girl with
puppy fat and knobby knees. I am 20 years
old, but while the world is moving into adult-
hood, I still linger in the waiting phase of
life. I am 20 years old and if you expect me
to be engaged or child-bearing or self-
capitulated into what will be my life-long
career, you will be disappointed. I am 20
years old and I still have 80 years to
fulfill all of the things that are expected of
me. I am 20 years old and different from
others of my age, and the things that I
consider important are different also. I am
20 years old and I'm waiting to fall in love,
I'm waiting to make a complete commitment
to another human being, I'm waiting to
figure out what I want to do with my life.
I'm 20 years old and maybe I'm still a child.

Snapshots

2009-07-10T10:31:00.000-07:00

Stuff Christians Like is this great new blog I just started reading. It's written by Jon Acuff, a hilarious and witty guy who really understands the church and the direction that modern Christianity is taking. Anyway, on his blog he writes about things that your typical Christian will relate to doing, liking, thinking, or undergoing.

One of his recent posts is #575. Refusing the gift of the desert road. In this post, he brings up this passage from Exodus:

When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter. For God said, "If they face war, they might change their minds and return to Egypt." So God led the people around by the desert road toward the Red Sea. The Israelites went up out of Egypt armed for battle. (Exodus 13:17-18)

Acuff's point from this passage was that God loved the Israelites so much that he would not lead them into a situation that he knew they couldn't handle. So even though the Israelites may have believed that they were tough and hardy and ready for battle, God knew what they didn't and he saw that they needed to take the long desert road to prepare themselves.

In my college group last night, we watched a video from Louie Giglio. He was kind of talking about this same concept and he said something I really liked:

"We only see little snapshots, but God is painting on a canvas the size of the universe."

This hugeness is a characteristic of God that I really love. I've begun to think of him more as an eternal being than just a super powerful human because that's who he's showing himself to be.

I spent last weekend in my favorite place on earth and even got to attend the church that had so much to do with my personal and spiritual growth when I was 16. I haven't had a chance to visit it in the past three years; well, I haven't had the courage to visit it. But last Sunday, I bundled up all my nervousness and walked right into that church building with my shoulders back and my hair brushed away from my face. And it wasn't nearly as terrifying as I thought it was going to be. In fact, I was even able to hear God in the worship music. And this is what he said to me:

Greater things have yet to come
Greater things are still to be done in this city

I've been focusing a little too much on things that God has done for me in the past. And it's true, he has done some amazing things in my life. He's met me in dozens of cities around the world and provided for me no matter where I've ended up and, countless times, revealed himself to me in the mundane, the ordinary, the average. He's given me gifts and taught me how to use them. He's put me in a family that, I'm convinced, may just take over the world some day and that is just the way I like it. He's done miracles in my life and saved me from so much more than I can understand.

But that's not the best part about God's relationship with me: even with all of these things he's already done for me, he's not done yet.

He's an active and living God and maybe I have been on a desert road for the past couple of years, but that doesn't mean he loves me any less than he did at one point in my life. If anything, it means he loves me more. And because God is so incredibly huge and I am just one tiny little snapshot in the canvas of the universe, I can't see what he's preparing me for or propelling me towards or sending my way.

But I can trust that he knows what he's doing because, based on what he's already done, he has some great things planned for my life. I just need to wait a little while so I can be ready for them.

The United States of America smells weird.

2009-06-04T10:35:00.000-07:00

While I was still living in Ecuador, my family usually ended up spending a significant amount of traveling around the States during the summers. One of the best things about these trips was the way the Miami airport felt: the moment I stepped off the plane, everything felt clearer in a sense, and airier. Not only did it feel a certain way, but it also had a distinct scent.

I'm currently sitting at my little desk in the cardiology office where I work and I can smell that scent. I've come to associate it with summer, because of those month-long trips during my missionary life, and heat and romance. It's thicker than the air I'm used to and lighter, too, all at the same time. It smells like shopping malls and Christian camps, the drive on the way to In-N-Out and hours and hours worth of family road trips. It smells like Fourth of July fireworks and relatives I barely know and sometimes what I can remember of the East Coast and churches - dozens, hundreds, THOUSANDS of churches all shaken across the country like rainbow sprinkles on top of a mini cup of old fashioned vanilla frozen yogurt from Golden Spoon. It smells like falling in love too quickly and bad choices and my sister screaming and my brother cuddling and it smells like songs I made up about Tyler Padgett and living out of a suitcase and huge scoops of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

It smells like dreaming about my future and what returning to live in this "foreign" world would look like.

And now I'm moving into my third year of living independently in Southern California and it still only takes three-and-a-half weeks of Ecuadorian life to signal my nose to this epically American scent. But that's ok, because I don't think I ever want to get to the point where Ecuador is the place that smells weird to me.

Possibilities

2009-05-12T21:47:00.000-07:00

As an English major, one of the more irritating things that I have to put up with is the tendency of most people to assume that I'm going into teaching once they find out what I'm studying. This is irritating because people don't realize that an English degree is one of the most versatile degrees out there and most undergrad English majors end up doing something completely unrelated to what they studied in college, so assuming that I am going to teach with my English degree frustrates me to death.

The irony of this is that I want to do probably the most stereotypical thing possible with my English degree: I want to write. And yet nobody initially assumes that this is what I want to do.

Anyway, another reason why the teaching assumption bothers me so much is that I had the WORST experience with teaching possible when I was in high school. I unwittingly agreed to teach 2nd grade ESL students for a few weeks of summer school and halfway through the first day realized how much I dislike being a disciplinarian. I would hate to be a teacher. It is on the bottom of my list.

Except that old adage says that "those who can, do, and those who can't, teach", which basically means that if I fail to make it big off my semi-autobiographical nonsense for young adults, I will eventually end up teaching.

This usually bothers me, but tonight I'm stuck with memories of the teachers who actually meant something to me: Mr. Quiring and his AP English courses, Mrs. Roedding who introduced me to poetry, Ralph Carlson from Creative Writing: Poetry, Mrs. Phillips who taught me how to read, even Ms. Pettijohn from my brief sojourn at Dana Hills. And I realize that if I had the honor to have as much of an impact on students' lives as these teachers had on mine, I would live a very fulfilled life.

Suddenly I'm not so afraid of my inevitable career choice.

Mr. Bundles

2009-05-06T23:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Jaxson Forest Lindsay (Jay),

It is I, your 6th grade crush. Remember? I'm the one you handed the "I like you" note to outside of our classroom during recess that one day in late Spring. I'm the one you played tag with all over campus and the one you asked, "Are you alright now, Rheanna?" when I had that nasty cold before the performance of our 6th grade play.

You may think it is pitiful that I still remember this, indeed, that I even remember your full name. Maybe it is pitiful, but that's not all I remember.

It was the second semester of 6th grade when you first whistled your way into my life. I had a crush immediately on your red hair and freckles, and on the fact that you came from Cotopaxi, the school where everyone apparently smoked. I thought this made you instantly cooler than all of the boys at my small missionary-bubbled school. You were a brand new transfer student and all I wanted was to chase you around the playground (I was 12, give me a break).

Our teachers chose Annie for our 6th grade play, and while I was Grace Farrell, private secretary to Oliver Warbucks ("Oliver Warbucks the millionaire?"), you were Mr. Bundles, the laundry man. When I found out which part you got, I desperately wanted to be Miss Hannigan because there was a secret romance insinuated between the two characters in the script and even at that young age, I thought art should imitate life.

During our 6th grade graduation, I flirted and flirted with you, Peter Carrera, and Eric Bean, because I couldn't decide which of you I liked best. I contemplated this issue for a whole summer, finally deciding on you when it turned out you sat behind me in our 7th grade homeroom. Later on in the year, I would stick my hands behind me when the teacher was praying and we would hold hands.

You asked me to the hayride and I had to say no because I wasn't allowed to date. This is one of my biggest regrets.

Our relationship culminated in a death, Jay Lindsay. It was the death of our classmate, Gun Hi Bae. He was in our History and English class and sometimes sat at the same table where we sat. This means that we probably accidentally played footsies with him a couple of times. We went to his funeral together, and you held my hand as we watched his body being brought to the building and, later on, in the van on the way back to school. You pointed out your apartment as we drove and I still can't drive through that part of town without thinking about you and how sad you looked that whole day.

(Years later, I wrote a story about Gun's funeral and I referred to you as my "first love". I still am not completely sure why I did.)

After that, we didn't talk so much. You stuck around for our 8th grade year and then your mom moved you away. During one of our middle school summers, we went to church camp together and you became a Christian. I remember because you threw away all of your shirts with the dragons and "bad stuff" on them and I thought it was really honorable of you to do that.

And then you moved away and for the longest time my ears would perk up when I heard anyone mention your name. Once, I heard you had been put in jail and I prayed for you.

The thing is, Jay Lindsay, you started all this nonsense with me feeling like I have to save people. It's because of you and your problems and my unquenchable desire to fix them for you that I still find myself drawn to broken people who need me. But they don't really need me, Jay Lindsay. There isn't anything I can do to actually save them. They have to figure it out on their own and that's what I never got the chance to learn from you.

Anyway, Jay Lindsay, we recently became friends on myspace, so maybe it's about time that I resolve all these issues that I have as a result of you. Maybe we can have a nice long conversation about how much I wrote about you in my journal back then and prayed that God would let me know if he wanted me to like like you or just like you.

Or maybe we can catch up through a few short and stilted emails and then move on.

But no matter what happens, I'm still glad I chose you to have a crush on in 6th grade. You were nice to me and I had a lot of fun playing tag with you. So thank you for that. And also I'm sorry I couldn't help you with the things you needed to figure out. Hopefully you've figured them out by now.

Hope your life is good.

Lots of love,

Rheanna Lea Cline

Ants in the pants of faith

2009-05-06T22:06:00.000-07:00

“I’m spiritual. I live off the faith that has been instilled in me, that has never left. I’ve never let a stumbling block actually make me fall…. We all go through trials, but not one thing has ever made me question God. I have a great relationship with God. I can talk to him, get mad at him, frustrated with him. But, ultimately, my faith is what defines me.”

Yeah, ok, this is a quote from Jessica Simpson. I realize that. But. I think this quote basically sums up what American Christianity is trying to convince us of.

We always say that God will never give us anything that we can't handle. Pretty much, we tell ourselves that God has our best interests in mind. And I'm not refuting that belief at all; on the contrary, I completely agree. But the thing is that maybe what God thinks is best for us is the opposite of what we think is best for us.

Did you ever think that maybe God doesn't care about our happiness? Maybe he knows that there is a lot that is more important than how happy we're feeling at any one moment. Maybe he values things like joy and a vividly-lived life more than a temporary and inconstant thing like happiness.

I don't know. Our culture tells us that if we believe in God, we'll get the desires of our hearts. But maybe we're so out of touch with our spirituality that we don't even know what the desires of our hearts are.

Anyway, Jessica Simpson says that she has never questioned God. Frederick Buechner says that "doubts are the ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving."

If that's true, then is a faith without doubts, a faith that is asleep and stagnant, worth anything?

If we live in a world that teaches us to look for the easy and happy way of life, then how are we ever supposed to encounter the kind of "stumbling blocks" that might make us doubt God? And without that doubt, how are we supposed to come to know God more?

I don't know. I'm realizing that there's a lot about this culture that I frankly do not agree with. And I need to change that. I need to make a difference.

I need to save the world?

One of the more awkward results of attending a relatively small Christian university and living on campus

2009-05-05T14:50:00.000-07:00

SCENE: Number K5 in the Shire Modulars, approx. 12:30am

RHEANNA sits on the comfy couch (the one that always eats her pens) in shorts, glasses, and a ponytail, minding her own business while also attempting to hold a phone conversation with a long-lost friend who has the coolest name she has ever heard. She hears voices and sees a mysterious figure pass by her half-open window, but reacts with a mere shrug as she is used to mysterious figures walking behind her house (like the time that Humans vs. Zombies thing was taking over campus and crazy freshmen kept lurking around the mods).

She hears a knock on the door and hesitantly stands to look through the peephole. With an obviously confused look on her face, she opens the door.

RHEANNA: Hello?

BOY SHE FLIRTED WITH IN THE COFFEE SHOP LAST WEEK: Oh. Hey. Is there a guy without a shirt on in here?

SEMI EX-BOYFRIEND RHEANNA IS ON THE PHONE WITH: (from the phone) I don't have a shirt on.

RHEANNA: Umm. No.

BOY: ...are you sure?

RHEANNA: Pretty sure.

BOY: You're not just hiding him somewhere?

RHEANNA: I don't think so.

BOY: Oh. I thought I saw someone through the window.

After a few more seconds of reallyyyy awkward conversation, BOY apologizes then leaves. RHEANNA is left with the startling realization that this kid was looking in her window and she resolves to never leave her windows half open again. SEMI EX-BOYFRIEND resolves to never ever attend a relatively small Christian university.

END SCENE.

"The way God intended it to be"

2009-05-03T11:27:00.000-07:00

Who are you to claim to know the mind of God?

He's not like us.

Isaiah 55:8-9

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord.
      “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.
For just as the heavens are higher than the earth,
      so my ways are higher than your ways
      and my thoughts higher than your thoughts."

Like we meant it

2009-04-28T20:33:00.000-07:00

I've had a little too much Ecuador today.

For my adolescent lit class, I wrote an original story for young adults based on my experiences as a missionary kid and then had to present it this morning.

For public comm, I gave a speech on the reality of missionary kids.

Am I exploiting my background? Where is the line between using your experiences to fuel your creativity and taking advantage of your unique youth to make your life seem more interesting?

Added to all of this is a homesickness that is becoming more and more acute as the days go by. I need my home, my bed, my cuisine, my country? Yes. I need my country, and whatever memories may go along with that.

We find strength to face the day

2009-04-12T23:25:00.000-07:00

Disappointment is a part of life, especially when you're made of hope down to your very core.

Disappointment is people not living up to your expectations of who you want them to be, who you need them to be. Disappointment is never getting to fulfill your lifelong desires. Disappointment is losing. Disappointment is not being good enough. Disappointment is drowning.

Since it's Easter, I feel like I should tie in Jesus somehow, but you know what? Even good Christians feel disappointed sometimes.

Tangible Evidence

2009-04-07T09:54:00.000-07:00

Don't act so surprised, please, when
I know you've been waiting for this
day to come. The difference is that
I'm not 15 anymore, and the things
that marked my uniqueness back
then might be useless today. I'm not
the same innocent, wide-brown-eyed
girl I was, but I still can't look at
pictures without memorizing the
features on your face because it's only
the first time I've had tangible evidence
that you were a part of my life, a
touchable part of my life, at some point.
I'm still stuck with confusion eking out
of my every pore and I still want to know
what your face looks like [in person]
today. If it's the last thing I do, I'll take
my own picture of you, with face maybe
drifting closer to mine and fingertips
back where they belong from the times
of bustrips and cardgames and youth.

Magic

2009-03-30T20:18:00.000-07:00

An older homeless woman came into the optometry office where I work today. She was holding a pair of very expensive-looking sunglasses and I found out later she bought them from my office after she had made an appointment last year. The most unusual thing about this scenario is that she actually had pretty good insurance.

Anyway, when she came in today, I asked her a few times if she was looking for glasses. She either couldn't hear me or couldn't understand, but she finally stated that she was just looking and brusquely brushed me aside as she roamed around the store.

You know those stories about people who help the lost or lonely and then find out they actually helped an angel or even Jesus himself? My old homeless woman is exactly who I would expect Jesus to be disguising himself as.

It's either that, or she's magic and I've just gained a hundred years of long life for my firstborn child. You know. Either/or.

All you wanted was to be wanted

2009-03-19T11:59:00.000-07:00

Fifteen, Taylor Swift

Cause when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You’re gonna believe them
And when you’re
Fifteen feeling like there's nothing to figure out
Well count to ten, take it in
This is life before who you’re gonna be
Fifteen

You sit in class next to a redhead named Abigail
And soon enough you’re best friends
Laughing at the other girls who think they’re so cool
We'll be out of here as soon as we can
And then you’re on your very first date and he's got a car
And you're feeling like flying
And your momma's waiting up and you think he's the one
And you're dancing round your room when the night end
When the night ends

Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You’re gonna believe them
When you’re fifteen and your first kiss makes your head spin round
But in your life you’ll do greater than dating the boy on the football team
But I didn’t know it at fifteen

When all you wanted was to be wanted
Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday
But I realized some bigger dreams of mine
And Abigail gave everything she had to a boy
Who changed his mind
And we both cried

Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You’re gonna believe them
And when you’re fifteen, don’t forget to look before you fall
I’ve found that time can heal most anything
And you just might find who you’re supposed to be
I didn’t know who I was supposed to be

---------------

Taylor Swift may be mainstream, but she does know what she's talking about.

When you're fifteen, you don't know the difference between love and affection, and it's easy to say, "I love you." When you're fifteen, you think anything is possible. When you're fifteen, you make promises to yourself to never forget.

And five years later, you still can't forget.

it is night

2009-03-14T00:34:00.000-07:00

merrily tying the knot: fingers drift
slip lick the way across your [sighs],
obscene, yes yes yes they go with
error preceding them
12:36 here but you're just a phonecall
away if the ring ring ring can call
you awake. it may be time for sleep
but all i want is to call
you now now now before you
realize i am destructive [shameful]
hurt. same situation, you should
know, only i was the one to break
the knot, yes the same you tried
to tie
me up stuck here where you left me.

there are more questions where these came from.

Letter to Myself, written March 25, 2007

2009-03-11T20:24:00.000-07:00

Dear FutureMe,

I hope you got over your ridiculousness that mostly had to do with boys. You had a lot of problems a year ago, and it got pretty annoying.

Also, you better have figured out what you want to do with your life by now. Time passes by pretty quickly, and you're 19 already. So figure it out, dude.

If you're dating RPC, have a good reason. Please? I don't want to go through all those issues again.

If you weigh more than 130 pounds, start running.

If you've lost touch with [the hobbit], call him.

If you haven't talked to your parents in a while, call them too.

I hope you're still writing at every chance you get. And I hope you haven't changed too much. 18-year-old Rheanna is pretty rad. You don't need to change.

Jesus loves you. I hope you haven't forgotten that.

Peace out, and please take a shower some time soon.

Love,

Me.

Overtime

2009-03-05T16:44:00.000-08:00

I tip and I tap,
I type and I tope,
I sit as I speak
and I sip from a cup.
I polish and demolish
and admonish all this cottage
cheese, beans, please, seize
my work from my quirky
Dr. D,
for these words, oh they churn,
they are
eating
me
alive.

Dear World

2009-03-05T00:07:00.001-08:00

Dear World,

I miss you.

It's been a while since we've hung out, and frankly, I'm lonely for the way you make me feel. See, I started this new relationship with this society called America and I am just having the hardest time adjusting to how different this new relationship is. Every once in a while, America will bring up something that reminds me of you and it makes my heart feel happy for one moment and then guilty the next. You don't think I deserted you, do you, World? Because that's how it feels to me sometimes. Like I gave up on this great relationship you and I had going.

I'd really like to try and work something out between us again. I've never felt as alive or purposed as I did when we were together. I really think you are my destiny.

Maybe in a couple of years we could give our relationship another chance? I promise I'm more mature than last time and I'm working on being more thoughtful and sensitive to your needs, just like you asked.

Well, America is starting to give me suspicious glances. I have a feeling that she wouldn't want me to be talking to you if she knew about how much I was in love with you or how long our relationship lasted. I wish we could all just be friends, but I'm not so sure that America would be ok with me being involved with both of you. She kind of gets jealous sometimes.

This was just a quick note to let you know that I'm thinking about you. I think I'll have some time off in about a month or two, so maybe I'll come to visit? Hopefully, you won't be mad at me.

I love you, World. I hope you haven't forgotten that.

Hugs and kisses,

Rheanna Lea Cline

Lifechanging/Euphoric

2009-02-28T00:39:00.000-08:00

i fall in love with you easily,

quickly,

without questions,

as if this is what i always wanted,

even though i gave up on this

so long ago. i begin to dream about

your fingertips on my chin, tilting

my face

closer to yours and it's like

these dreams never ended.

it only takes a spark, and i'm

lifechanging

again.

while of course you, in your perfect euphoria, are

still stuck.

On College

2009-02-25T12:57:00.001-08:00

I'm at a point in my life where I discover new things about myself, and about how I feel about the world in general, almost every day. It makes me a little too opinionated, but I think this is what college is about. My CLFM professor said that you should leave college with more questions than you came here with. This is a very good point, especially since the new things I discover usually just lead to all sorts of confusion and reluctancy regarding what to do with what I find out.

(For example, I have discovered that I do not get theological discussions. It makes no sense to me to have all these arguments about whether Jesus' blood and body are actually in the Eucharist or whether God predestined each of us to either Heaven or Hell before the Earth was created. I can understand why some people would hold these arguments as the most important part of their religion, but I'm finding out that my concept of Christianity is made up of a lot of parts of mystery and usually doesn't have any answers. Read Frederick Buechner and Madeleine L'Engle for more on this idea of Christianity.)

College is for extroverts; that's what I've been trying to cope with lately. The process of meeting new people every single semester and having to create brand new relationships with them is something that I just cannot get used to. I think I need a break from an American college campus; it's definitely time to study abroad. So what do you think: Greece, Lithuania, or France?

I really need a vacation.

In a sweater poorly knit

2009-02-15T02:24:00.000-08:00

This happens to be who I am.

New Heavens for Old

Amy Powell

I am useless.

What I do is nothing.

What I think has no savour.

There is an almanac between the windows:

It is of the year when I was born.

My fellows call to me to join them,

They shout for me,

passing the house in a great wind of vermillion banners.

They are fresh and fulminant,

They are indecent and strut with the thought of it,

They laugh, and curse, and brawl,

And cheer a holocaust of "Who comes firsts!" at the iron fronts of the houses at the two edges of the street.

Young men with naked hearts jeering between iron house=fronts,

Young men with naked bodies beneath their clothes

Passionately conscious of them,

Ready to strip off their clothes,

Ready to strip off their customs, their usual routine,

Clamouring for the rawness of life,

In love with appetite,

Proclaiming it as a creed,

Worshipping youth,

Worshipping themselves.

They call for women and the women come,

They bare the whiteness of their lusts to the dead gaze of the old house-fronts,

They roar down the street like flame,

They explode upon the dead houses like new, sharp fire.

But I--

I arrange three roses in a Chinese vase:

A pink one,

A red one,

A yellow one.

A fuss over their arrangement.

Then I sit in a South window

And sip pale wine with a touch of hemlock in it,

And think of Winter nights,

And field-mice crossing and re-crossing

The spot which will be my grave.

Personal Relationship

2009-02-10T09:55:00.000-08:00

These are the things that have been rolling around my head:

It's the cliche Christian American thing to say, "It's not a religion, it's a relationship." I'm not going to argue that statement. I actually do agree with it.

I do think that often we forget who our relationship is supposed to be with, though.

Yes, Jesus is our homeboy. He's the one we talk to about all our issues and he's the one we "fall in love" with during those mountaintop experiences.

But the whole point of Jesus is that he's human. We love the humanity in him. And he charged us to love the world.

So maybe the relationship we're supposed to be in shouldn't be just between ourselves and Jesus. Maybe it should be between the entire world and Jesus.

Maybe the key to improving our relationship with Jesus is improving our relationship with our neighbors. Maybe loving the world is just as important as loving God. Maybe the way we love God is entirely demonstrative.

These are just the things I'm thinking about right now.

Pistachio

2009-02-02T15:38:00.000-08:00

If you were an item of food, what would you be?

I would be a pistachio. Here's why:

1) Pistachios take time and are hard to get into.

2) Not everyone likes pistachios.

3) Sometimes, you really really want some pistachios, and other times, you just feel sick of them.

4) They're brown.

5) If you try to open them with your teeth, it hurts.

6) They have a unique and hard-to-spell name.

Rheanna Explains It All

2009-01-19T13:21:00.001-08:00

I'm at work and I sneeze. All I can think about is this episode of Clarissa Explains It All that I saw years and years ago. In this episode, the flu is going around and the title character is terrified of getting sick. So when she sneezes once, she explains that it's just a natural, uncaused thing. Then she sneezes again and she credits it to an undusted room. She sneezes a third time and decides that she must be sick.

I didn't just sneeze once. I sneezed FOUR TIMES. IN A ROW. Someone had better get me to a hospital STAT because Clarissa never explained what four sneezes mean and frankly, I'm worried.

In other news, "sneeze" is a funny word.

I'm Not Lying

2009-01-14T23:49:00.000-08:00

It wasn't fair, not to me, but least of all

to you. It became a game between three

players, one player who didn't even know

he was playing.

You may have had no chance of winning,

but here's my truth: I would have given

it up, all of it, just to have the assurance

that everything would be ok.

I would have saved you if I could have.

I'm Not Lying

Ellen Wittlinger

I am lying in a clapboard shack

the wind blows through. It has followed me

all the way from Boston to this sheltered

harbor where I am less protected than I've ever

been. Invisible as a fish in the ocean

I've tried to listen, to understand the

mystery of two people who could almost

touch, except they have in common trusting

no one. I'm not lying when I say I tried.

I'm not lying next to you

and I never will. There was a night

we needed more than affection

though neither would admit it.

To tell the truth it couldn't matter less

who wears the pants or the dress, but only

who becomes visible to whom.

You saw me truly, and I saw all you let me;

I'm not lying now, and I hope I never will.

Typical

2009-01-13T08:53:00.000-08:00

This week is the first week of classes. I don't know if this is a normal thing to feel, but this week always gets me anxious. There's all these new people to meet, and unknown classrooms to find and then have to choose who looks the nicest to sit next to, and waking up at earlier hours. It just generally sucks. The worst part, though, is when I have to introduce myself.

I don't know why college professors do this. For every course, during the first session, the professor always makes the students give their names, usually something interesting about themselves, and where they're from. I thought maybe my Church History professor would be different. He spent half of the class yesterday talking about the syllabus and why you have to be selective in teaching this subject and the connection between studying Theology and History. But even he finally got to the part that I hate.

"Ah, so far we're all from California. Who's next... Rheahhhna Cline?" He reads from the roll.

"Actually, it's RheAnna."

He jots down a note on the list. "And where are you from?"

"Quito, Ecuador."

At this point, the room erupts in a burst of "That's so cool!"s and "Wow, how exotic!"s. In most classes, at least one person mentions how their friend is from Ecuador and I say, "Sarah Miller?" or "Paige Larrea?" or "Maia Froehlich?" or any of the other Alliance classmates who ended up at APU and we have a brief connection over the impossibility that we would both know the same person from a foreign country. Except it's not that impossible.

And that is how it always is during the first week of class. I'm considering changing my hometown to Azusa.

Quarter Life Crisis

2008-12-16T20:03:00.000-08:00

I'm in Quito, Ecuador. The one in South America.

It's only been six days since I returned to the país de mi alma. I don't think I can describe the completely strange feeling of walking into "my" house and not knowing where "my" bedroom was. It's odd, because as much as I love this new house, it still feels like we're staying in somebody else's home. I'm hoping that will change, that by the end of my time here, I'll actually be able to find my way to the laundry room.

Flew in Thursday night. Thanked God for getting me to Quito without having to spend the night in Guayaquil (I would have hated that). Cried as soon as I saw my parents while riding the escalator out of the hallway at the airport. Jumped on my brother and sister while they were trying to sleep. Stayed up late just to revel in the newness of the new house.

Friday and Saturday: Alliance choir concert. Felt jittery at the notion of seeing people I hadn't seen in a year. Thankfully avoided too many awkward moments with said people. Laughed with my best friend one night, then flirted with my brother's underage friends the next. "Illegal" flirting is probably the best kind.

Sunday, went to the church that has been a part of my family for about 50 years. Reconnected with my youth pastor from Dana Point and finally met his wife. Felt jittery about that, too, until I realized that who I am, and who I was back then, is not made up of one person. Was filled with memories I kept to myself and feelings I hadn't thought of in a long time. Scored an age of 41 on the Wii fitness test.

Saw best friend number two on Monday afternoon. Visited my high school as a non-high school student and felt weird about it. Was almost not recognized as an alumni by the school nurse. Hung around the big soccer field and waited for first best friend to come on campus. Was 1/3 of 3/4 of a bear hug of a best friend reunion. Played Prince of Persia, Fable 2, and Halo 3 on the Xbox 360. I really missed that thing.

Tuesday, wore pajamas, did nothing. Made sugar cookies and worked on Christmas presents. Quizzed my sister on her Science test (mitosis is the first and most important stage of cell division) and partook in a dinner party with people I didn't know so well. Am now sitting in my dad's office chair, trying to get sleepy enough to go to bed.

Once the little bro and sis get out of school, I'll be more productive. I promise.

Please

2008-12-01T00:57:00.000-08:00

I just want to know you're ok.

You've told me before, told me that I'm the one who reminds you to be good. I took it very seriously when you told me that. I took it even more seriously than when you told me you were praying for me.

That's why I'm trying to remind you again. But you're not helping to make that happen.

I need you to write me. I need you to acknowledge that I am trying to get in touch with you again. I need you to remember our friendship and what it did to both of us.

We're not children anymore, you even more so than myself (you're the one of legal drinking age) and it terrifies me that you have this reason to screw things up and forget who you are deep inside yourself, beneath all of those layers of swearing and "cool" and fakeness (I truly believe that you are who you were with me, that this person you show to everyone else isn't the real you).

I feel responsible for you. I just want to know you're ok.

His good, pleasing, and perfect will

2008-11-19T13:09:00.000-08:00

We talked about God's will in my Romans and Galatians class today, about how God's will isn't "footsteps in the snow" that we need to somehow need to find and follow, but a corridor with boundaries and lots of flexibility in terms of what exactly God wants us to do. This is ironic because I fell asleep last night while I was debating over this issue in my head, and I came to the same conclusion my professor presented to us today.

All of this brings me back to something my high school Apologetics teacher, Mr. Roedding said: "As long as you are striving to do God's will, you will not make a wrong decision." God doesn't have a set system of choices and options for us to make; He offers us free will. He gives us the space to make our own decisions, because just like a loving father, God trusts us to make good ones.

In our class today, we also talked about a verse I memorized years ago, probably for AWANA: "then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is, His good, pleasing, and perfect will." My professor argued that it isn't God's will that is "good, pleasing, and perfect"; God's will involves all that is "good, pleasing, and perfect". God is all about good decisions and He provides us with the resources we need to make those good decisions.

So what it comes down to is this: as long as we are striving to do what is "good, pleasing, and perfect", we will be doing exactly what God wants us to do, and so we will not be able to be "out of God's will". And this can be applied to jobs or picking the right college. It can even be used in deciding who to marry. (Yes, there is more than just one person that you are able to marry. God doesn't set us loose in a maze, blindfolded, and tell us to somehow find the person whose fingerprints match our own. He gives us some leeway in this case.)

God created us with the ability to make good decisions, and we should exercise this ability, rather than allow ourselves to be paralyzed by the fear of doing something that God does not approve of.

How sweet it is

2008-10-09T10:18:00.000-07:00

Easeful – relaxed.

Exquisite – great beauty and delicacy.
Is not she an exquisite creature? p. 70.

Maul – 1. to wound by scratching or tearing.
2. to handle or treat savagely or roughly.
He mauled the edges of the paper with his reddened and blackened hands.

Flicker – 1. to shine or burn unsteadily or intermittently.
2. (of a feeling), to be briefly perceptible.
3. to make small, quick movements.

Spectral – of or like a spectra.
Spectrum: ‘image, apparition’ a band of colors produced by separation of the components of light by their different degrees of refraction, e.g. in a rainbow.

Dusk – the darker stages of twilight.
The fire light flickered on the wall and beyond the window a spectral dusk was gathering on the river.

This is what I'm doing for "work" now. I say "work" because it's not really. It's fun for an over-obsessive, perfectionist, wordprocessing freak like me.

I like words.

The Piercing

2008-09-15T14:22:00.000-07:00

I’m looking at pictures of you, and
I don’t recognize the person I see.

I don’t recognize that smile, or that
hairstyle, or your sweatshirt, or the
way you do your make-up. When
did you become a stranger to me?

I’m confused by how it happened,
but I know it had to happen. We
aren’t kids anymore, and maybe
that’s all we had in common: just
a background, a story, and stories
can’t last forever. They have to have
some kind of ending. Is this ours?
Is this it? Are we no longer destined
to be friends for life?

Are you ready to let me go?

Maybe you already have.

From a while ago, but I'm feeling it now

2008-09-09T00:06:00.000-07:00

save it for later

What happens when we grow up? What happens
when our beginnings have finally turned into the
middle, and we're no longer able to see down
that finnicky old tunnel that most people call life
and that sometimes involves sea lions and youth
pastors and sunsets that can never be erased from
the corners of your mind...? Some people fall, and
some people forget, and some people get lost in
the gigantic San Diego Zoos of life and are never
quite returned again. But when you look at what the
purpose is, at what should be pushing us forward
into this new "epoch" of our life, maybe they were
lost for a good cause. Because remembering them
is almost as good as really being with them.

Right?

Just a thought

2008-08-21T16:16:00.000-07:00

Someday, I would like to live on Languid Lane.

Mirrors and Books

2008-07-30T22:27:00.000-07:00

'"It's not that easy. They just like somebody that can give them a purpose."

"A purpose?"

"Right. You know? Girls like guys to be a challenge. It gives them some mold to fit in how they act. Like a mom. What would a mom do if she couldn't fuss over you and make you clean your room? And what would you do without her fussing and making you do it? Everyone needs a mom. And a mom knows this. And it gives her a sense of purpose. You get it?"

"Yeah," I said even though I didn't. But I got it enough to say "Yeah" and not be lying, though.

"The thing is some girls think they can actually change guys. And what's funny is that if they actually did change them, they'd get bored. They'd have no challenge left. You just have to give girls some time to think of a new way of doing things, that's all. Some of them will figure it out here. Some later. Some never. I wouldn't worry about it."'

'I never once thought that it would mean Sam might start liking me. All I cared about was the fact that Sam really got hurt. And I guess I realized at that moment that I really did love her. Because there was nothing to gain, and that didn't matter.'

'"Charlie, don't you get it? I can't feel that. It's sweet and everything, but it's like you're not even there sometimes. It's great that you can listen and be a shoulder to someone, but what about when someone doesn't need a shoulder? What if they need the arms or something like that? You can't just sit there and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can't. You have to do things."

"Like what?" I asked. My mouth was dry.

"I don't know. Like take their hands when the slow song comes up for a change. Or be the one who asks someone for a date. Or tell people what you need. Or what you want."'

Quotes all taken from The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky, my current favorite book.

growing in Grace

2008-07-21T00:16:00.000-07:00

So I was thinking...

My vocab is so huge cause I read so much.

My imagination is so crazy cause I think so much.

My eyes are so wide cause I look so much.

My heart is so full cause I love so much.

Yep, it doesn't help anything to just "feel bad". But it does move the heart to action. And that's where feelings and sympathy and empathy and all that good stuff comes in.

We'll never know the difference between right and wrong, happy and sad, fixable and leaveable if we can't feel those differences.

Feeling bad is where it all starts. Don't make it seem like it's the wrong thing to do.

Proverbs 15:1

A gentle answer turns away wrath, but harsh words stir up anger.

Do you realize??

2008-07-09T00:35:00.000-07:00

I come from a place

that intoxicates it's visitors with sweet-smelling flowers and

towering mountains, a place that stays fresh in your mind

until you can't hold back from returning, just onemoretime,

to catch a glimpse of that overpowering joie de vivre. You see,

my home is a home

that will never let go of your soul, even though you think you've

moved on, the eyes that at first welcomed you and made you

the highest priority (then later forgot) will always live in a picture

at the foreground of your thoughts. No one ever understands

what makes this body

so intoxicating, so inviting, so INTERESTING, because to the

untrained eye, what makes it so special is exactly what makes

it ordinary. Ordinary and plain and simple and underwhelming,

while at the same time, unforgettable. If you won't forget, then

neither will I.

I lay all of my birdies

2008-06-11T11:32:00.000-07:00

I was getting ready in the Hastings' guest bathroom this morning when it finally hit me again; on a plaque hanging from a bathroom wall was written this verse:

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight."

So often I forget that worrying is the sin of not giving all your cares to God. He expects us to trust that He rules over our futures. When we try to take our troubles upon ourselves, we usually learn the hard way that we have nothing to do with how things turn out.

I don't want to keep relearning this again and again. I want it to forever be pressed on my heart. But I don't think that's how humans work. We live circular lives, always coming back to the lessons we thought we had memorized by heart. That's also how God set up our lives: we weren't created to learn something once and remember it forever.

I cast all my cares upon You
I lay all of my birdies down at Your feet
And anytime I don't know what to do
I just cast all my cares upon You

Under our bare feet in this brand new colony

2008-05-27T19:55:00.000-07:00

Well, I fell in love again... with The Postal Service:

I'll be the waterwings that save you if you start drowning

In an open tab when your judgement's on the brink

I'll be the phonograph that plays your favorite

Albums back as you're lying there drifting off to sleep...

I'll be the platform shoes and undo what heredity's done to you...

You won't have to strain to look into my eyes

I'll be your winter coat buttoned and zipped straight to the throat

With the collar up so you won't catch a cold

Lovely. Strange. Beautiful. And lovely.

Get Naked

2008-05-25T17:21:00.000-07:00

Nothing will come between me and my Naked Juice.

Californians Must Be Crazy

2008-05-22T15:52:00.000-07:00

A few hours ago, I was sitting in my car, patiently counting down the minutes to the end of my lunch break. That's when a drop of water hit my windshield. Another one followed. Then another, and another, and suddenly it was drizzling. The only thoughts running through my head at this point had to do with dreading the idea of moving all my stuff from one house to another in the rain, which is what I have to do today, come 5 o'clock. I also inexplicably had a craving for blueberries and ice cream, a craving that California rain almost always brings out in me.

My lunch break ended, and I briskly walked through the rain into the office where I work. This is where the pandemonium began.

Minutes after I approached my bosses' desk:

My boss (L), after tilting her head to one side and hearing the sounds of rain drops on the windows and roof: Is it raining?

Me: Yeah, it was kind of drizzling-

L: It's RAINING?!?!?

Woman who works next door (M): It IS! It IS raining!! Come look, come look!!

After this command, five of the women who work in the office huddled in front of a nearby window, where they proceeded to exclaim in high pitched voices over the (ridiculously small) amount of rain drops falling from the sky.

And then the unimaginable happened:

L: IS THAT HAIL?!?!?!?

M: No, it couldn't be hailing!!!!

L: It IS!! Look at the GRASS!! It's HAIL!!!

And then they all ran outside - outside - to watch it rain. And they weren't the only ones standing outside. Most of the people who work in this building were also standing outside. Watching. The. Rain.

Later, we had another episode where L realized that other boss, C's car window was rolled down, so L had to race around the office in search of an umbrella - M burst out with a chorus of "Under my umbrella, ella, ella" here - so C could run outside and close her windows.

Since then, the lights have flickered a couple of times and have completely gone out twice. It's also turned into a full-on thunderstorm, with loud noises and even lightning!

The most annoying thing about this rain is that two days ago, the temperature was in the hundreds. And I thought rainy season in Ecuador was bipolar.

I'm just praying that rain will never make me as psychotic as it makes most people who live here.

So let's make it rock

2008-05-02T20:46:00.001-07:00

Well I'm sitting in an empty dorm room, surrounded by the scent of Clorox. That's what us college students use to clean our desks at the end of the year when it's covered in layers of dust and eye sleepies.

The end of the year. Really? Already?

It's amazing how quickly something that you've looked forward to for so long can pass. During my last year of high school, I couldn't wait for May 13th so that I could finally graduate and start my life in the real world.

And then you realize that what makes life real is how much you put into it.

I took Philosophy this semester, and we studied all sorts of ontological and rational and empiricistical stuff. We talked about Plato's cave example and what happens when you die and if there really is a God.

But none of that really matters. All philosophical theories are just ideas that men have had over the past hundred (thousands, even) of years. It's just speculation. It never comes to any conclusions, which actually drove me crazy during the process of learning about it, but thinking about it now, it's not so bad. It feels like a metaphor for life; we all live without conclusions, without finishing our thoughts or determining exactly who we are.

Life is about what you make of it. If you don't put that effort into making your life exciting, interesting, adventurous, and in the end, liveable, it won't be any of those things. It will be boring. It will be dull. It will be monotonous, beating to the rhythm of a drum that lost its prime long ago.

Life's what you make it.

It happens

2008-04-29T02:35:00.000-07:00

Only during finals week can 12:00 midnight feel more like 12:00 noon.

I took a lovely walk over to Crestview a few hours ago for a study party (more like a "complain about this horrible horrible week" party) and it was ridiculously hot outside, due to this crazy thing called summer. I'm still completely not used to actually seeing seasons change. This spring has been the first spring I've experienced in a very very long time.

So anyway, on my way back from my study party, I walked by Trinity tables. There were dozens of people out there and even some guy playing a very pretty tune on his guitar. I was impressed. Also freaked out by the fact that it was midnight and I was hours away from sleep.

And then these words floated into my head: "I am such a college student."

God's Love Letter to You

2008-02-27T23:45:00.000-08:00

I found this in my mailbox this morning. I don't know who put it in there or where it came from, but it definitely put a smile on my face as I was walking back to my dormroom and I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. I think that's the sign of a great love letter.

God's Love Letter to You

I made her... she is different. She's Unique. With love I formed her in her mother's womb. I fashioned her with great joy. I remember, with pleasure, the day I created her.

I love her smile.
I love her ways.
I love to hear her laugh!
And the silly things she says and does.
She brings me great pleasure.
This is how I made her...

I made her pretty and not beautiful, because I knew her heart, and I knew she would be vain... I wanted her to search out her heart, and to learn that it would be Me in her that would make her beautiful... and it would be Me in her that would draw friends to her.

I made her in such a way that she would need Me. I made her a little more lonesome than she would like to be... only because i need for her to learn to depend on Me... I know her heart, I know if I had not made her like this she would go her own chosen way and forget Me... her creator.

I have given her many good and happy things... because I love her.

Because I love her, I have seen her broken heart, and the tears that she has cried alone. I have cried with her, and had a broken heart too.

Many times she has stumbled and fallen alone only because she would not hold My hand. So many lessons she's learned the hard way because she would not listen to My voice.

So many times I have sat back and sadly watched her go her merry way alone. Only to watch her return to My arms, sad and broken.

And now she is Mine again. I made her. Then bought her. Because I love her.

I have to reshape her and remold her... to renew her to what I had planned for her to be. It has not been easy for her or for me.

I want her to be conformed to My image. This high goal I have set for her.

Because I love her.

Colonel T. M. Everett

2008-02-26T19:48:00.000-08:00

I have a new fish languishing in pink fishy-paradise on the top shelf of my desk right now. His name is Colonel Theodore Michael Everett, and he kind of loves his new home. Sometimes he swims across his bowl and I can't stop looking at him because his tail-fin is so lovely. I think he knows how beautiful he is because I've caught him a couple of times looking up at the reflective surface of the water like he's checking himself out. I would have a fish like that. I would.

A house

2008-02-01T22:37:00.000-08:00

Tonight, I'm in Colorado Springs.

It's funny how many memories can be connected with just one house. My grandparents have owned this particular home for as long as I can remember and probably even before that; countless Christmases and various summer vacations have been spent here, miniature golfing at the Putt-Putt course down the road, cracking nuts in the living room, and of course, getting as much of the family together as possible for that essential family portrait, many of which hang in positions of importance in this house.

The last time I was here, I was spending only a night before a long road trip back to Dana Point, California. I was preoccupied with thoughts of "major" social events I was missing, a church choir program and several all-important date nights in particular. (In fact, I was so consumed by those thoughts that I even forgot to notice the brand-new shelving unit in the living room.)

A house can measure your growth just like those enormous rulers your parents used to draw on the back of your bedroom door. Every time you enter a house, all the feelings you felt the last time you were there welcome you at the entrance, and for a slight moment, you're exactly the same person you were two years ago.

whimsical, thankyou

2008-01-04T19:39:00.000-08:00

The search for the end of the perfect rainbow was on.
Gena was once again caught up in wonder. Her heart felt as light as the after-rain sky above and every shadow, storm, and cloud that had previously been holding her captive had cleared. These were the effects of the fascination that took control of her senses every time a long rain finally ended. But unlike other gloomy showers, this one had put a flawless, perfect rainbow in the sky above her small town of Chestnut, California and Gena was intent on finding the end.
It wasn’t that she expected to find a pot of gold or even a leprechaun. In fact, Gena had actually developed a fear of the little green Irishmen during her fourth grade year when her best friend, Mara had dressed up as a leprechaun for Halloween; Gena was sure that the costume wasn’t meant to instill a fear of all things Irish in small, impressionable children, but unfortunately that’s what had happened. Since then, Gena had always secretly questioned the exact intentions of leprechauns.
No, it definitely wasn’t a leprechaun that Gena wanted to find at the end of this rainbow.
An old pink bicycle was accompanying her on her quest. Together, they traveled up Potter’s Grove Street and down an unnamed side street, where Gena said out loud to herself (altogether a very charming and annoying habit), “I wonder why this street doesn’t have a name” and continued down the redwood-lined road. Her eyes were stuck on the brilliant rainbow as all other thoughts were pushed out of her preoccupied mind.
It was an obsession, really; Gena felt she couldn’t focus on anything else until she reached the end of that all-consuming rainbow and witnessed for herself the magic she was convinced was waiting, just waiting for someone curious enough to snatch it. And she had to be that curious someone. Her desire to reach the magic flowed out of her heart and into her fingertips. All over, her body tingled with the anticipation of discovering something new and a silent, joyous song began to hum its way down, down to her toes.
Looking ahead, Gena could see where the rainbow dipped into a tightly huddled grove of trees halfway up Pistachio Mountain. The only problem was that she had run straight into a roadblock: Mr. Duskin, the owner of the sliver of the mountain where the rainbow-glowing grove of trees resided, happened to be the most overbearing, overprotective, overparanoid man Gena knew. He was always complaining to the town mayor, Gena’s grandfather that yet another group of “teeny boppers” had trampled the neon-red “WARNING” signs that littered Mr. Duskin’s property fence from one side to the other.
As she had been throughout her life, Gena was completely aware of the trouble she was getting herself into as she pushed her slight body through the one hole in the fence that hadn’t yet been secured with twelve planks of wood. “At least I have a good reason for trespassing,” she said out loud to herself, again in that offhanded manner of hers. Any anxiety she might have had about intruding on Mr. Duskin’s property was dissipated by the thought of reaching that perfect rainbow and Gena began to run up the side of the mountain, so consumed by the thought of finally reaching the magic that wonder and enthrallment took control of her footsteps and propelled her towards the as-yet unseen trunk of the rainbow.

Eleven Things My Mama Should Have Taught Me

2007-12-25T21:22:00.000-08:00

After one (happy, crazy, growthful, changing, difficult, spectacular, lovely, joyful, lonely) semester of college, I have come to understand these things:

1) Mostly, you relate to the people you knew previous to your first college experience in a completely different way after you've come home. To me, this means that I am officially an adult in the Cline/Scholl crowd; I partake in adult conversations, without fear of giving my own opinion or even telling Kevin to shut up. It also means that stupid high school cliques are no longer in control of my social life. (This is where I insert a five-minute long sigh of relief.)

2) People are hard to live with. It doesn't matter who they are, where they came from, how similar they are to your own personality; people are just hard to live with. And once you can master the "art of losing" all the things that make your life familiar, it is five hundred thousand times easier to live with another person.

3) Pop-tarts and string cheese can be a suitable meal for anytime of the day!

4) It is completely normal to eat by yourself, whether you're in the cafeteria or hiding out in your dorm room.

5) Friends require upkeep. After about six years of having three perfectly synced friends who practically fell into my life, this was the hardest for me to come to terms with. It takes time for faces to become acquaintances, acquaintances to become casual friends, casual friends to become close.

6) Facebook is a SICKNESS.

7) No matter how awkward I feel about the whole "Third Culture Kids of APU Unite!" thing, I have to admit that it does make me feel ten times more comfortable when I realize that a professor is a former MK or a classmate spent most of her life in a different country. It's not because I can't relate to your average American, it's because I can relate better to people who have had similar experiences to mine. And that's true for everyone, whether we're talking about the language you speak, or the kind of school you graduated from, or the place you grew up in. People are naturally drawn to those who are like themselves. And no matter how self-obsessive that might seem, it's good.

8) You are different. I am different. We are all freakin' different, so it's completely futile to go around acting like you're God's gift to society. Get over yourself.

9) 7:15 Walk/Jog classes are never a good idea.

10) Sometimes people suck. (That's why forgiveness is such an intense theme in the Bible.)

11) Tie-dye is way cool in college.

I started this blog entry about a month ago, but I got frustrated with how Blogger changes the language if you're in a different country and since I was in Ecuador (South America, not Africa), everything was in Spanish and it just bothered me. So even though the new semester has already started, pretend it hasn't.

p.s. it's raining

2007-11-29T21:50:00.000-08:00

I met another homeless man today. His name was Ricky and he smiled at me in the most genuine way and said, "Merry Christmas!"

I was so nervous to talk to him. There's something that just makes it hard to look a person in the eye after you've walked past them, trying to forget their presence, a couple of times. Yeah, I walked right past him. And then I felt that tug on my heart again and I turned around and introduced myself.

We ended up talking for maybe 30 seconds. I was so afraid that I would say the wrong thing; I couldn't find any courage to ask him about his story, even though I knew that's what I was supposed to do.

So my prayer today is for courage, courage to do the things that God has pressed on my heart.

In other news, Rheanna's Quest Towards Being As Awkward As Possible is still going strong. I got lost in San Dimas after the "AH! You're running out of gas!" light came on in my car and I raced off the freeway in a panic, frantically searching for a gas station. I then proceeded to completely forget my zip code, which apparently you need to pay for gas with a debit card at certain gas stations.

No worries, though. Ugly Betty is full of gas and safe in the school parking lot. And I am safe in my dormroom, content after a night of music and poetry and bizarre Christmas antics.

The logs on the fire fill me with desire to see you and to say that I wish you Merry Christmas.

sleep tight

2007-11-20T21:13:00.000-08:00

i'm going on vacation tomorrow.

with some people that i kind of like (aka my second family).

plus best friend number K!

am i excited?

absolutely.

=]

We'll make the great escape

2007-11-14T11:00:00.000-08:00

My high school World Religion and Cults teacher (the infamous Greg Collard) told me once that there is one month in the fall semester that is more difficult than all the others for college freshmen. I don't exactly remember which month he was talking about, probably because I was semi-busy looking out the window and pretending I was a butterfly who could fly to the windows of the Hospital Vozandes and cheer up all the sick people. In my personal experience, though, that one most difficult month has been November.

If I lived in a place other than Southern California where the weather actually turns cold and stays that way, I think that would be justification enough for a despressing November. As much as I love snow and cold and rain, I can't imagine bundling up to face wind every day during the fall and winter. (Today, I'm actually wearing a short dress and my roommate and I still haven't turned off the a/c in our room since school started. This is my blissful life as a Californian, I guess.) On that note, I am extremely thankful that God decided to put me in a place like Azusa, where the only thing that blocks the sun is smog and girls who wear Uggs have to pair them with short shorts to keep themselves from suffocating.

However, the lack of fitful weather makes it necesary for me to find something else to blame the overwhelmingness of this month on.

Could it be all the pressure, the pressure of turning in all my projects when they're due, of making time to study for tests that matter, of writing this blog before my next Beginnings class?

Could it be social tensions? People change in college, whether they're trying to or not, and dealing with that has become a headache of it's own.

Could it be homesickness?

Mmhmm yep. Yep to all of the above.

It just boils down to the fact that I'm living, absolutely LIVING, for my next vacation (which happens to be in exactly seven days!) and for this thought: is it really possible that we are almost halfway through the year already?

And bee tee dub, all the stress is also making me incredibly joyful. Go figure.

Un sapo, sapo, sapo que nadaba en el rio, rio, rio...

2007-11-06T21:01:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry. I can't just write one blog about this.

So for the last thirteen years of my life, I think I was on one long mission trip. For example, every Wednesday last year, I would go to the city dump with a group from my school and we would help out in the daycare for kids whose parents live among the trash. A few years before that, we went to a children's hospital every week and basically evangelized and did goofy stuff to make the kids happy. I've helped to translate for different groups from the U.S. who came down to Ecuador to go on a mission trip (although the emphasis on those trips was always on something other than God... oops). I went to a school for missionary kids; we even had an Evangelism Explosion class to teach us how to talk about Jesus.

Because of all that, it's really hard for me to be in a place where a mission trip isn't waiting to happen right outside my window.

It will be interesting to see what happens to my passion for the world when I'm no longer forced to be in it. And I think that's all I can say about it.

And if I had wings, I would fly.

2007-11-06T17:43:00.000-08:00

What makes you happy?

A good grade on a really difficult test?

Extra money for a shopping spree?

The knowledge that one more person thinks you're attractive?

We were hit in the face by the concept of global vision all week last week. We were challenged to open our minds to what's going on in the world around us, not just in our small-bubble lives. We were begged to see the big picture.

But the first step is to take our eyes off ourselves.

If the things that make you happy have to do with what's happening to only you, then I challenge you to change that. We do not live isolated, lonely lives; we are growing together, living together, finding God in new ways together. It shouldn't be solely about I ME MYSELF. It should be about US WE YOU THEY. What can we do to make someone else happier? What can we say to brighten someone else's day? How much of ourselves can we give?

So what makes you happy?

A good grade that your best friend got on a really difficult test?

Extra money to spend on someone else?

The knowledge that you made one more person feel special?

It's all about the love, people.

i see you.

2007-10-31T10:31:00.000-07:00

Break my heart for what breaks Yours.

The evidence of the absence of God can be seen all around us.

You see, God is love. He is love and He is light and He is encouragement and He is comfort. When those things are taken away, all we have left is hatred. Just hatred and darkness.

I've never heard about the Holocaust from the viewpoint of a Jewish survivor and so the story of the murder of thousands of Jews has never felt very personal. Hearing about it last Wednesday brought tears to my eyes though. Honestly, what was the rest of the world doing while such hatred was brewing up? We ARE our brother's keeper; we ARE meant to keep each other in check. And I think our world needs to open its eyes because grievances of similar or greater magnitude are slipping their ways past the corners of our minds.

One way, Jesus, You're the only one that I could live for.

While we're tiptoeing around the subject of racism, let me propose a new horror: culturism. That's right, it's not all about your race these days. It's about which culture you were brought up in, which culture you feel most comfortable with, and which culture you have adopted as your own. And this is a GOOD thing; I dream of a world in which 100% of the world's inhabitants have claimed a culture that doesn't match the color of their skin. But unless we (collectively) begin to embrace those cultural differences, my dream will not come true.

(You don't have to be non-white to experience racism. Ask me about it some time.)

Here am I. Send me.

I will go.

Mirror, Mirror

2007-10-24T01:12:00.000-07:00

Ten million years ago, I was THE awkward kid.

And by awkward, I mean the whole shabang: braces, stringy (slightly dirt-colored) hair, chubbiness, horrible sense of fashion. I was also just becoming aware of the fact that I was not, indeed, like everyone else. See, I'm the kind of person who does not do too well in social situations. Adding to the awkwardness was my pre-teenage, rapidly developing body and a group of people who publicly thought my way of walking was socially unacceptable.

Needless to say, middle school was my unhappy time.

...and so was the year or two that followed.

Honestly, I blame it on my surroundings. Once I moved to a place where most people actually didn't know my name, the puppy fat quickly fell off and I even learned a few things about how to make friends. But it wasn't until I got away from my hometown and learned how to find God in a new way, in a new location, that I really started seeing myself as God-loved, instead of God-forsaken.

It took awhile, but I finally began to look in the mirror again. And really, I had to start looking at God (and at his creation and at his beauty and at his glory) first.

Who am I to consider myself, created with love by God, a thing of ugliness?

It really isn't about loving yourself enough. It's about trusting that God knew what he was doing when he made you. That's what you have to remember when you're comparing yourself to the rest of the beautiful girl population on campus. That's what you have to push into your mind when you're wondering if that outfit could look any worse on your body. That's what you have to think about when you're looking into the mirror.

God made you special, and he loves you very much.

2007-10-09T23:32:00.000-07:00

Three Things I Would Like To ACCOMPLISH While At APU

Sometimes I think I'm an underachiever; I don't realize the things that I really want until they either a) smack me right in the face or b) are comfortably handed over to me. Maybe this is a better argument for laziness on my part. But either way, here are at least three things that I would possibly like to accomplish during my years at APU. Also included are how my strengths will help me to achieve them.

1) Figure Out Who The Heck I Am
I mentioned this before; this is the whole reason why I came to college: to be influenced and stretched into the kind of person I am meant to be. On some days when I wake up a few minutes before my alarm clock sings to me, I feel like a mirror image of myself. I want to color in the lines that make up my heart and mind and finally be a technicolor version of me. I think that all of my thinking strengths will help me to evaluate every single possibility (maybe even prolonging the process) of who I could be. And my empathy will help me to look at others and at who they are. This will force me to see the good and bad of their characters and I can pick and choose the characteristics that I find most enviable and work them into my life.

2) Learn As Much As I Can
Aha. Another reason why I came to college. As my input strength describes, I am curious and I love learning new things (but generally only in areas I'm interested in... lame, I know). I want to fill my brain with as much information as possible about the world and about people and about writing and about the way things work. (I also want to get published. I want my thoughts to be read and spread and publicly acknowledged.)

3) Expand My Concept Of The World As A Whole
Included in this section are my desires to study abroad, to get involved in missions, and to network. I don't know what I mean by that last word, but I guess my dad says it a lot and it sounds good. Ha, just kidding. But I don't really know what I mean, except that it's something I really want to do. And guess what, my connectedness strength directly ties in with this goal. Funny how that works out.

4) Find A Husband
Ummmmmm, kidding. Actually, I just want to make strong and lasting friendships.

4 for real) Make Strong And Lasting Friendships
I've heard from too many people that their best friends are the friends they met during their college years and I want to make this true for me. I think connectedness will just help me to "connect" the people around me and to draw them together. In love. And happiness. Peace.

5) Become Tight With God
I heard a sermon once about what it takes to become "tight" with God. The speaker mentioned discipline and how important it is to keep yourself in check and to keep your relationship with God growing daily. I want to be so disciplined in my walk with God that it becomes even more natural than breathing. I want to have a better grasp on what He wants for my life. I want to use my strengths for His glory. I want His love to shine out of all areas of my life and I want people to notice the difference.

Fin.

Procrastination, Part 1: Best Things About December 11 - December 13, 2009

2007-09-28T23:03:00.000-07:00

1. Christmas chapel. Carols and man choir and funny skits and warm holiday feelings.
2. Last American Lit class. Wooooo, no more learning about authors I already read in high school.
3. Rain, rain, rain. Even though the windshield wipers on Betty don't work too well, it made for a lovely adventure driving down to San Juan Capistrano.
4. Road trippin' with the bf. Good music courtesy of Kirk's iTunes and sour cream and onion Pringles, mint Milano cookies, and Diet Coke/Starbucks for a mid afternoon snack.
5. Glory of Christmas at the Crystal Cathedral. Real camels! And flying angels! And the cutest lambs and goats and a donkey! Oh yeah, and the acting and music and costumes were all pretty great, too.
6. Lots of time with my adopted grandparents, Ellis and Frankie. Plus great food, comfortable housing, and good conversation, all because of their generosity.
7. Sleeping in.
8. Pumpkin bagels at I Heart Bagels! These bagels are listed very very high on my Top Favorite Things list.
9. Getting things done while at the same time doing nothing. Like such as Christmas shopping and finishing up my list of To Do's for Lithuania.
10. Seeing The Road. Ok, here is what you need to do: Go read The Road by Cormac McCarthy and then go see the movie. Right now. Just do it.
11. A hilarious Sunday morning. Highlights included: accidentally on purpose missing church, getting lost somewhere around Laguna Niguel, dancing in the car to Christmas music, and eating at the Souplantation (it never gets old).
12. A brand new backpack. Her name is April.
13. Hot toddies and a Salt Creek sunset. I could literally spend every afternoon for the rest of my life watching sunsets at Salt Creek and never get tired of it. This particular afternoon, I had very handsome company, which made it extra nice.
14. "Meeting" the boyfriend's parents via video chat. And realizing he looks exactly like his mother.
15. Kirk Dahlstrom.

Eat right, huh

2007-09-25T14:54:00.000-07:00

Numba One - Ideation
You are fascinated by ideas. What is an idea? An idea is a concept, the best explanation of the most events. You are delighted when you discover beneath the complex surface an elegantly simple concept to explain why things are the way they are. An idea is a connection. Yours is the kind of mind that is always looking for connections, and so you are intrigued when seemingly disparate phenomena can be linked by an obscure connection. An idea is a new perspective on familiar challenges. You revel in taking the world we all know and turning it around so we can view it from a strange but strangely enlightening angle. You love all these ideas because they are profound, because they are novel, because they are clarifying, because they are contrary, because they are bizarre. For all these reasons you derive a jolt of energy whenever a new idea occurs to you. Others may label you creative or original or conceptual or even smart. Perhaps you are all of these. Who can be sure? What you are sure of is that ideas are thrilling. And on most days this is enough.

I didn't really think that this strength applied to me until I did some reading and realized that it has to do with creativity and daydreaming. Most of the time, I forget that that aspect of who I am is even a strength. Maybe this test will help me to focus that attribute and use it more to my advantage.

Numba Two - Input
You are inquisitive. You collect things. You might collect information-words, facts, books, and quotations-or you might collect tangible objects such as butterflies, baseball cards, porcelain dolls, or sepia photographs. Whatever you collect, you collect it because it interests you. And yours is the kind of mind that finds so many things interesting. The world is exciting precisely because of its infinite variety and complexity. If you read a great deal, it is not necessarily to refine your theories but, rather, to add more information to your archives. If you like to travel, it is because each new location offers novel artifacts and facts. These can be acquired and then stored away. Why are they worth storing? At the time of storing it is often hard to say exactly when or why you might need them, but who knows when they might become useful? With all those possible uses in mind, you really don't feel comfortable throwing anything away. So you keep acquiring and compiling and filing stuff away. It's interesting. It keeps your mind fresh. And perhaps one day some of it will prove valuable.

I have definitely seen how this strength plays out in my life. I remember when I was in maybe 7th or 8th grade and I became insanely fascinated with Queen Elizabeth I to the point of reading a 600 page non-fiction work all about her life. When I become interested in a topic, I like to know as much as I can about it. This can also be translated into my social interactions; when I am interested in getting to know a person more, I become overwhelmingly curious about their life and the way they think.

Numba Three - Empathy
You can sense the emotions of those around you. You can feel what they are feeling as though their feelings are your own. Intuitively, you are able to see the world through their eyes and share their perspective. You do not necessarily agree with each person's perspective. You do not necessarily feel pity for each person's predicament-this would be sympathy, not Empathy. You do not necessarily condone the choices each person makes, but you do understand. This instinctive ability to understand is powerful. You hear the unvoiced questions. You anticipate the need. Where others grapple for words, you seem to find the right words and the right tone. You help people find the right phrases to express their feelings-to themselves as well as to others. You help them give voice to their emotional life. For all these reasons other people are drawn to you.

This was another strength that I was already well aware of (and semi-embarassed about). I've had a problem with being overly sensitive for as long as I can remember and I've always viewed it as more of a weakness than a positive attribute. I think that maybe I need to start looking at it as a God-given gift and realize that it's something that can help others.

Numba Four - Strategic
The Strategic theme enables you to sort through the clutter and find the best route. It is not a skill that can be taught. It is a distinct way of thinking, a special perspective on the world at large. This perspective allows you to see patterns where others simply see complexity. Mindful of these patterns, you play out alternative scenarios, always asking, "What if this happened? Okay, well what if this happened?" This recurring question helps you see around the next corner. There you can evaluate accurately the potential obstacles. Guided by where you see each path leading, you start to make selections. You discard the paths that lead nowhere. You discard the paths that lead straight into resistance. You discard the paths that lead into a fog of confusion. You cull and make selections until you arrive at the chosen path-your strategy. Armed with your strategy, you strike forward. This is your Strategic theme at work: "What if?" Select. Strike.

I think it's ironic that this is now my third strength that has to do with knowing more and thinking and "expanding my horizons". I am definitely one of those people who just thinks too much; "What if"s drive me crazy and generally take up wayyy too much of my time. And again, this is another attribute that I tend to view negatively.

Numba Five - Connectedness
Things happen for a reason. You are sure of it. You are sure of it because in your soul you know that we are all connected. Yes, we are individuals, responsible for our own judgments and in possession of our own free will, but nonetheless we are part of something larger. Some may call it the collective unconscious. Others may label it spirit or life force. But whatever your word of choice, you gain confidence from knowing that we are not isolated from one another or from the earth and the life on it. This feeling of Connectedness implies certain responsibilities. If we are all part of a larger picture, then we must not harm others because we will be harming ourselves. We must not exploit because we will be exploiting ourselves. Your awareness of these responsibilities creates your value system. You are considerate, caring, and accepting. Certain of the unity of humankind, you are a bridge builder for people of different cultures. Sensitive to the invisible hand, you can give others comfort that there is a purpose beyond our humdrum lives. The exact articles of your faith will depend on your upbringing and your culture, but your faith is strong. It sustains you and your close friends in the face of life's mysteries.

When I asked my alpha leader about this one, she told me it was the hippie strength. So ha, once again, proof that I am a hippie at heart. Parents, let me buy a hippie van and get a peace sign tattoo'd on my ankle. I'm just trying to go along with my strength!

But actually, two sentences made me feel certain that this strength is something I possess: When people and the world seem fractured, broken, and isolated, you can become discouraged. For this reason, some may perceive you as too naïve or fragile. This has happened to me countless times. When the darkness of the world around me is pushed too hard into my face, I freak out and have to "center" myself before I can deal.

Stay beautiful

2007-09-17T08:28:00.000-07:00

I met a homeless man yesterday. His name was Shane and his teeth were tinted yellow. He was holding a cigarette in one hand and asking any nice-looking person who passed by for money to buy food.

We grow up in a culture that trains us to be paranoid of anyone living on the streets. "Oh, he'll just use the money for drugs," we convince ourselves. "He's probably just lying anyway." I know that those were the thoughts running through my head as I walked past him with my head turned the other way.

It took me about 3 seconds to feel a nudge on my heart (the nudges I live for). And even though I was terrified and worried about what Shane the Homeless Man could possibly do to my lovely roommate and I, we still turned around, apologized, and introduced ourselves to him. He was a pretty nice guy, too. You might see him on the corner outside of the CVS just down the street.

Shane gained five dollars from me yesterday. But, as cliche as it might sound, I feel like I'm the one who benefitted more from our encounter.

I'm not entirely sure of who I am yet. That's why I came to college; in this safe and God-controlled environment, I have all the time in the world to settle on my hopes and fears. The only thing that my heart is absoultely set on right now is living my life completely and willingly for God. And every day that's becoming easier for me to do.

That's who I am right now.