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

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.

Tangible Evidence

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.

it is night

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.

Do you realize??

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.

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

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.