I love to read good writing, and I enjoy trying to create the same. I'm finished with high school, finally. I think I'm going to work with kids for a while instead of going to college. We'll see what God decides. I'm on a path looking for God, and when I catch glimpses, it's amazing.
I drove to the gym on a beautiful day, the 31st of October, All Hallow's Eve. I got there early, sitting in my red monster outside waiting for the side door of the YMCA to be propped open so the illegal activity could begin. I messed around on my phone waiting until the time to start came, and then it came. As the sun set, the games began, on the last day of the month, on the last day of the old time. Setting foot inside of the gym, I noticed it was unusually bare of the regular players. And I had thought Halloween was for little kids. The games began and ended. At the end of what made a game, the players walked underneath the net, following protocol. I watch as we all walk like zombies for our cell phones to check our addicting texting habits and whatever else comes our way. I had never thought I would be one of the mindless mob who move through life staring at a 3 inch screen. I have become one, an undead walking among my fellow undead. The lights of those who aren't infected by the disease are growing dimmer and fewer. What has become of us, the sad people who stumble through life following whatever trend is new, whatever style is next, whatever drug is pleasurable? Why can't we see how enslaved we are? Could we make it through a week without a text? Are you aware of what you have become? The facts are sobering when seen for what they are.
This is one of the poems I grew up on...the rhythm and repetitiveness are effective and part of what makes it a great classic poem. Think about it...
Charge of the Light Brigade-Alfred Lord Tennyson "Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. “Forward the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!” he said. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!” Was there a man dismay’d? Not tho’ the soldier knew Some one had blunder’d. Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley’d and thunder’d; Storm’d at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of hell Rode the six hundred.
Flash’d all their sabres bare, Flash’d as they turn’d in air Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder’d. Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro’ the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel’d from the sabre-stroke Shatter’d and sunder’d. Then they rode back, but not, Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volley’d and thunder’d; Storm’d at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came thro’ the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All the world wonder’d. Honor the charge they made! Honor the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred!
Sometimes the best thing to do is do something and not think about how stupid it seems. There is Somebody who knows what He is doing in charge, even when it seems like a mistake.
I'm sorry, dear friends. That's all. No more explaining why I haven't kept you regularly updated on everything that is happening down here. When I get my camera back, I will show you some pictures of my new place, because, yes, I live in an apartment now, with a guy named Nathan. He is pretty cool. We have two leather couches, are getting a bookshelf today, a gas fire and stove, and are living the single guys' life. Thursday or Wednesday night we had frozen pizza (we cooked it on the cardboard it came on and burnt it after we didn't cook it enough. Then I burnt my finger taking it out. Fun times.) and watched 2 Fast 2 Furious. I like the first movie better. I have also watched Toy Story 1 and 2 this week. Perhaps that's some of the reason why I haven't been updating here. Something in a long day at work makes it hard to get up the resolve to write a post of substance on here. However, since last night I stayed up till after 3 and didn't get up till 11:30ish, I think I have enough energy and time to give some to you. :) I have found a pretty cool church to go to. It's called Trinity International Baptist Church. They are in the midst of some serious turnover, in an attempt to become more outwardly focused and fulfilling the great commission. No, there aren't any churches down here that are anything close to a GCC church, but I have resigned myself to that. Trinity is pretty cool. So far I'm not too involved in that, but we will see what happens. I go to work in the mornings at 9ish, and the workday is over three days at six. The other two days, Tuesday and Thursday, are super long days. Currently I go to six Bible Clubs. Here is the schedule: Monday:NO CLUBS!!! Tuesday:Providence in the afternoon (small club), Nottingham in the evening (bigger club. Around thirty kids.) I don't finish work on Tuesdays until around 8:30. Wednesday: Sooner Haven. It's a pretty big club, around 30 on a good day, but potentially more. Thursday: Tulakes. HUGE club. We have 150 or so kids with permission slips, and have averaged around 100-something regularly. In the evening, I coordinate Falls Creek. It is going to be challenging, as there are a lot of problem kids there. Thursdays I also don't finish till after 8. Friday: Oak Grove! I love this club, because I know a lot of the kids there from camp over the years. They say I'm temporary there, but I really hope not.
That's the lineup of clubs throughout the week, but that's not all I do. I'm also in charge of packing snacks for all of the clubs, which isn't horrible. I have my own snack room, which is my domain.
I like having keys that are mine. They make me feel powerful.
I haven't posted music in a long time. I'm going to post some. This is a song by Brandi Carlile. It's a good one. Let me know what you think.
Lyrics:
Have you ever wandered lonely through the woods? And everything there feels just as it should You're part of the life there You're part of something good If you've ever wandered lonely through the woods if you've ever wandered lonlely through the woods
Have you ever stared into a starry sky? Lying on your back you're asking why What's the purpose I wonder who am I If you've ever stared into a starry sky Have you ever stared into a starry sky
Have you ever been out walking in the snow? Tried to get back to where you were before You always end up not knowing where to go If you've ever been out walking in the snow If you'd ever been out walking you would know
Hello readers! I don't feel motivated to write a "deep" post, so let's have some fun with Ogden Nash, a genius with words who has no equal in his field, which only contains him. Without further ado:
Oh To Be Odd! by Ogden Nash
Hypochondriacs Spend the winter at the bottom of Florida and the summer on top of the Adirondriacs. You go to Paris and live on champagne wine and cognac If you're dipsomognac. If you're a manic-depressive You don't go anywhere where you won't be cheered up, and people say "There, there!" if your bills are excessive. But you stick around and work day and night and night and day with your nose to the sawmill. If you're nawmill.
Introspective Reflection by Ogden Nash
I would live all my life in nonchalance and insouciance Were it not for making a living, which is rather a nouciance.
A Word to Husbands by Ogden Nash To keep your marriage brimming With love in the loving cup, Whenever you’re wrong, admit it; Whenever you’re right, shut up.
What Almost Every Woman Knows Sooner Or Later by Ogden Nash
Husbands are things that wives have to get used to putting up with. And with whom they breakfast with and sup with. They interfere with the discipline of nurseries, And forget anniversaries, And when they have been particularly remiss They think they can cure everything with a great big kiss, And when you tell them about something awful they have done they just look unbearably patient and smile a superior smile, And think, Oh she'll get over it after a while. And they always drink cocktails faster than they can assimilate them, And if you look in their direction they act as if they were martyrs and you were trying to sacrifice, or immolate them, And when it's a question of walking five miles to play golf they are very energetic but if it's doing anything useful around the house they are very lethargic, And then they tell you that women are unreasonable and don't know anything about logic, And they never want to get up or go to bed at the same time as you do, And when you perform some simple common or garden rite like putting cold cream on your face or applying a touch of lipstick they seem to think that you are up to some kind of black magic like a priestess of Voodoo. And they are brave and calm and cool and collected about the ailments of the person they have promised to honor and cherish, But the minute they get a sniffle or a stomachache of their own, why you'd think they were about to perish, And when you are alone with them they ignore all the minor courtesies and as for airs and graces, they uttlerly lack them, But when there are a lot of people around they hand you so many chairs and ashtrays and sandwiches and butter you with such bowings and scrapings that you want to smack them. Husbands are indeed an irritating form of life, And yet through some quirk of Providence most of them are really very deeply ensconced in the affection of their wife.
I think maybe this is getting out of fashion, but once again, I apologize for not posting in what seems like forever. Maybe someday you'll understand. :) First off, I never realized how much time a full-time job required. :) I'm busy, and when I get home from work nights, I don't feel like sitting down and writing a blog post, even when it's to my beloved readers. The weekends haven't yet been normal, as I've been her for only two so far, the first weekend my first here, and the second weekend kept me busy doing homework and hanging out with friends. So. I'm here, on a Friday night, taking some time to tell you that I'm not going to post the continuation of the series I started 3-4 weeks ago. No, I don't have the inspiration for that...instead, I'm posting something I wrote recently that I hope you will enjoy. Soon I hope to post more about my summer, my current life, and trademark PMRL posts, such as poetry and music posts. :) Until then, let me know what you think about this. I call it the Propper-upper:
Lying here on the bed, propping up more than just my frame on the frame, I think about how things were just 5 days ago, days that seem forever ago. Why do things that are good for us always seem to be so hard? The fan whirls in unending circles, forcing the pages of the calendar to move away from the wall, and back towards it again, over and over. Is that what will happen to us? Will we get close, and be pushed away? Will we always “beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past?” No, we won’t, but right now it’s easy to listen to the lies of discontentment in my head, to think about how much better it could be right now. I know what I need to do, to remember Who it is who “keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love Him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations.” Too many times I’m absorbed in the “I,” and forget the “You.” You are the One who loves perfectly, forgives completely, and will never, ever, change. My life will change, my situations will change, but if I find my meaning in You, I can be content in that, knowing that where I am is where You have me.
I apologize for the prolonged absence of words. Not that I believe in excuses, but here are a few if you do: 1. This summer has been the busiest of my life. Since my last post, I've been on a mission trip to my own city, a trip to Oklahoma City for a week of day camps/fun days/whatever they are, and a trip to Indiana for a singles conference. This weekend, I'm leaving again, but for longer: My job starts Monday. Yay! 2. I got a new laptop! Yay! I also have a blocker for my laptop, to help me stay pure and not look at things I shouldn't. Consequently, that blocker blocked my blog, grooveshark, and a variety of other sites I was in the habit of using. Today has been the first day I've been able to go to my blog since my last post.
And so I'm sure you're curious as to how this has been the best summer in my entire long life of 18 years. (Yes, I'm 18, if you didn't know somehow) It's a long story, but an amazing one, because of who God is, and who He showed Himself to be. I might have to split it up into at least four parts. In fact, I think I'll do that.
So. Today's post will cover the first big thing that happened, although you've already heard some about it: camp. While I was an amazing summer camp for inner city kids from Oklahoma City, God showed me how real He is, how He speaks, and how powerful He is when we are willing to admit our own need. His love was showered on me, and it was so encouraging to be able to trust in Him and see it fulfilled. In His Word, and through fellow brothers and sisters in Him, I met God in Oklahoma like I'd never met Him before. To be in a place where the stars were amazing, and His creation was all around me, was ideal in growing and learning to enjoy God. So. That's the first thing God taught me this summer: to trust in Him, and rejoice in His power.
And now I will. My friend Amelia gave me a book of poems by Billy Collins, and I read it...it's really good. I like him, even though he doesn't rhyme. On Mother's Day, Donald Miller posted a poem by Collins that I liked a lot...that was my first exposure to him, in a poem called the Lanyard. I'd recommend reading it...I almost posted it here, but I decided against it in favor of posting The Trouble With Poetry. It's a good poem, and it's a good representation of how Collins writes. Without further typing:
The Trouble With Poetry
The trouble with poetry, I realized as I walked along a beach one night -- cold Florida sand under my bare feet, a show of stars in the sky --
the trouble with poetry is that it encourages the writing of more poetry, more guppies crowding the fish tank, more baby rabbits hopping out of their mothers into the dewy grass.
And how will it ever end? unless the day finally arrives when we have compared everything in the world to everything else in the world,
and there is nothing left to do but quietly close our notebooks and sit with our hands folded on our desks.
Poetry fills me with joy and I rise like a feather in the wind. Poetry fills me with sorrow and I sink like a chain flung from a bridge.
But mostly poetry fills me with the urge to write poetry, to sit in the dark and wait for a little flame to appear at the tip of my pencil.
And along with that, the longing to steal, to break into the poems of others with a flashlight and a ski mask.
And what an unmerry band of thieves we are, cut-purses, common shoplifters, I thought to myself as a cold wave swirled around my feet and the lighthouse moved its megaphone over the sea, which is an image I stole directly from Lawrence Ferlinghetti -- to be perfectly honest for a moment --
the bicycling poet of San Francisco whose little amusement park of a book I carried in a side pocket of my uniform up and down the treacherous halls of high school.
