october update

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.