Thursday, January 27, 2005

There are times when I wonder what in the world I could have done to make someone respond to me in the way that they do. Though I may try to be understanding, unassuming, and accepting, that is sometimes never enough. My concern and interest and normal everyday friendliness is met with indifference and distance.

I try not to take this like a slap in the face, but it nevertheless leaves me a stunned and puzzled. I know I must keep in mind that it may not necessarily be me that they are responding to, but rather things within themselves that come to light when I am standing there. But I still feel the slight, and I realize again that people will disappoint you without much cause. Yet I cannot resign myself to believing that is who they are or all they will ever be because I have seen the good, the noble, and the strong within them. Perhaps this is to my detriment. . . I don't know. Sometimes it seems like being the best kind of friend is allowing the person not to be friends with you at all.
I practiced a song with a friend last night for choir. It makes absolutely no sense, yet I can't get the nonsensical syllables out of my head. Help!

Ji bu li
Jinga janga
Hello, hello marion
High up a non carry on
Fly up a ma carry on
Where, oh where, oh did you go?
Jinga lye a yumba mya
Jinga lye ah jing

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

A delightful chinook has blown through Cleveland the past two days. It gives me that frolicking-skip-on-the-sidewalk-blow-bubbles-and-hoola-hoop-feeling. I'm trying to convince myself that it is not as warm as it seems - it's just relatively warm compared to the last week of 12-18 degree days. This weather makes me feel nothing like going to class, carrying books, studying, going to work, etc, etc. I think that on days like this college life should revert back to kindergarten:

We have recess
We have snacks
We draw pictures
The biggest stress of the day is who we sit by during circle time.
Class is done at 12:30

We have no homework
We play for the rest of the day

Monday, January 24, 2005

I have a good feeling about this week. I'm not sure why, or what has caused it, but I have a odd feeling of expectancy. For who, what, or when I do not know. All shall be revealed in due time...
I always feel strange when I get to school in the morning and I see someone I know who is dressed the same way I am. Does that mean we both have good taste at the same time, or that we have bad taste altogether?
I have a dreadful urge today to pick a flower. Not a flower out of a garden, or out of a stand or cooler, but one of those lovely innocent flowers that grow alongside the road and in fields and woods. The flowers to which no one knows the name; the ones that are just "those little blue flowers", or "the white ones that kind of look like daisies".

I want to pick a flower and twirl it between my fingers, marvel at the detail of it's petals, and give it a throne in my hair. And later tonight it would come down and find it's final resting place in the pages of an old book of poetry, where I would find it some dark day and it would make me smile.

I want to pick a flower.

Sunday, January 23, 2005

I decided to take a chance tonight and see a girl band that is here on campus tonight. I should have realized that there was no chances to be taken. After waiting for 20 minutes for the concert to start, three girls came out in outfits that looked so painfully and purposefully mismatched that all I could think about was a fourteen year old gone crazy at Forever 21.

And then they began singing.

I leaned over to my friend and told her that they should have given us translations of their English lyrics at the door.

After watching the Evanescence/Ashley Simpson want-to-be's for five minutes, I walked out into the frigidly crisp evening. I didn't need chapel credit that badly after all.

Friday, January 21, 2005

There are rare and beautiful moments when you encounter someone that makes you desire to become more passionate about life. It is not because they themselves are perfect, superior, or infinitely wise. No, it is rather the opposite - that they are imperfect, completely human with flaws and struggles. Yet, in this they believe that it is possible to change, and that life is beautiful even with the shadowy things we cannot understand. They feel so deeply that they cannot betray what they hold to be true, even when it contradicts the very thing they so desire. And in this they impassion others to believe and live life in a real, human sense, empowered by the Creator.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

This afternoon the music department and students listened to a lecture recital by Dr. Brendel, who is a candidate for a recently opened faculty position. Among his program he sang a few of the Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo by Benjamin Britten. The translations are beautiful.

I see sweet light with your eyes
Which I cannot see with my blind ones
I carry a weight with your feet
Which I cannot do with my feet
I can fly, with your wings,
As I am wingless.
I can go toward heaven with your spirit.
With your will I pale and blush,
Become cold in the sun
Become hot in cold weather
In your will is mine.
My thoughts are created in your heart
In your breath are my words
I am like the moon in the sky
Which our eyes cannot see,
Except that which is illuminated by the sun.

You know that I know, dear sir,
That I am coming closer to enjoying you.
And you know that I know
That you know that I am still the same.
Then why do I hesitate to greet you?
If true is the hope given to me,
If true is the good desire I am granted,
The wall crumbles between one and the other,
As double force has secret woe.
If I love you only, my dear sir,
And only what you love most,
Do not be angered.
For one spirit is enamored to another.
What I long for and learn in your beautiful face
Is not comprehended by mankind.
He that may see it must first die.
I've never felt more like a nerd than tonight as I sit in the music library studying music history while the rest of the campus is at the basketball game and tap night.

La, my life is not my own. I have sold it to the music program and the future does not hold any promise of getting it back. Yet for some odd reason I am blissfully happy in it.

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

The war between the wants and shoulds of life never seems to cease. Is there a time in which they will someday become allies instead of enemies?
As I sort my thoughts out about this semester (even though I am only one week into it), I find I am contemplating people much more than before. I am so aware of the moments in life that pass by so quickly. They are like the telephone poles that whiz by on the freeway too fast to count, but still mark the distance. The markers all seem to contain opportunities with people; opportunities that they silently ask you to take, but never voice. I feel like I need a map, or even just a legend to tell me what the signs mean.

And when the moment passes and I do not decipher it's meaning, is it too late to go back and respond? At times I choose in brief moment to ignore the moment. I speak when I ought to be silent. I stand alone when I ought to reach out. I look away when I ought to smile.

What is it that makes me choose in that split second? Is it ignorance? Pride? Insecurity? All of the above? I wonder how my life would change if I became more intensely aware of the choices I make moment to moment. I wonder what would change if my actions towards others were completely void of any consideration for myself. If I lived every moment of the day as dead to myself but alive to Christ, I would perhaps rarely think about myself at all.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Whenever I begin a new semester I find myself thinking about and questioning everything I thought I had settled the semester before. The people I come back to are different. The person I come back as is different. And I wonder, am I really older and wiser this time? Have I learned anything beneficial at all? What am I really learning as I go through the daily routine of class and rehearsal with my fellow classmates? What about these days will I remember when I am old? Which of these faces that I see everyday will I continue to see when we all leave and go on with 'real life'? What an odd feeling to know that I will never hear from and eventually never think of many of these people after I graduate. And it's equally odd to think that many of them will eventually forget all about me. Yet we are currently all we have to keep each other sane so that we can leave. And then eventually forget about each other. Strange.
Sometimes I wonder if this blog is worth reading. Do people really read it? And what do they think? And would anyone know if I never posted anything again? Perhaps they do not read this because I have been such a sporadic blogger. Then again, I think that one of the biggest reasons for the existance of this blog is just for me. And part of me doesn't care if lots of people read it or not. But it would be interesting to know who does. Or doesn't.
She held the elevator for me in the dark and dreary basement below the dining hall. I had never seen her before, but we smiled at each other as I slipped in the closing doors. She was obviously coming into work, still wearing her jeans, and tennis shoes, and green DKNY sweater that was the same color as the head of lettuce I was holding. I realized at that moment that I only feel odd in my chef's coat when I am standing next to someone in normal clothes. I then noticed that she was holding an ostentatiously pink purse that clashed dreadfully with both her sweater and my lettuce. It seemed like a scene out of a comedy movie. The straight on shot of two mismatched people in the elevator, both saying nothing, both looking odd with their respective pink purse and head of lettuce. Where the scene would have gone after that, I don't know, but I think it had potential.

But alas, my life is not a movie. Maybe that is a good thing. It would be mildly amusing with a vague plot and plenty of randomly confusing moments.
I saw him looking up at her
and what she was doing
the way the eyes of saints are painted

when they are looking up at God
when He is doing something remarkable,
something that identifies Him as God.

---excerpt from 'Love' by Billy Collins
I just read my most recent posts after now being back at school for one week. I got the feeling from them that my brain was definitely not engaged in the thoughtful or profound. I think somewhere between finals and break, all intelligent material flew out the window. But now I'm back at school. Hopefully there are more interesting if not intelligent posts on the way.

Thursday, January 06, 2005

This one is the best I've heard so far. And I really believe it right now.

"Guys are like blenders: you know you need one but you don't know why."

The clock is a strange individual
with a round face
but no eyes or nose
and no body,
but has two hands.

The hands are not attatched
to arms or even shoulders,
but are stuck to the face
with no eyes or nose
and no body.

Minute hand is larger
than Hour hand,
and neither have fingers,
but somehow still point
to the numbers that
go around endlessly.

The fingerless hands that
confuse kindergarteners
with half-pasts, quarter-pasts,
and quarter-tills.
And tell them when it is lunch.