In a sweater poorly knit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.