Sweetly Broken

Guys. I am so blessed.

2012-01-30T23:01:00.000-08:00

This has possibly been the best day of school ever. Maybe even better than that day in eighth grade when the kids on honor roll got to go to Magic Mountain instead of going to school.

I am so unbelievably blessed to be at this school. Today was the day I was dreading. Class at eight in the morning, long empty space, and two classes from 4:30 to 9:50 with a 5 minute break in between. Not my ideal schedule. But this is what actually happened today:

Get to Statistics ten minutes early, before everyone else. Dr. Wilson arrives and we talk for a bit, then others arrive. We learn that the class consists of six students, and five were in our Probability class last semester. It felt like a reunion of math nerds, and I actually kind of enjoyed it.
Go to the math office and sign up for TA hours. Chat with Jerri, the secretary, and discover that she is a much nicer person than I realized.
Sit around in Sutherland and read Proverbs and Anna K. Help a stranded new freshman find his Torrey group. Get more work done than I expected, and see lovely Torrey people. See Dr. Campbell for the first time in months, hug, and talk about life for a little bit.
Go to lunch with Havilah and, inevitably, have other friends join. Talk about life and Torrey groups and other things.
Read a little bit more before going to tutoring.
Make three dimensional paper shapes to help Krista understand surface area.
Go back to Sutherland, see lovely people, go to Eagles, get a torta, eat said torta while talking with said people, go back to Eagles to get more soda, come back and find Mary waiting for the class which we did not know we were both taking, and wait for class together.
Go to Secondary Reading. Fifteen people in that class. Five are math credential students, about half are graduate students, and none are elementary education majors. Learn how wonderful it is not to have to see elementary education majors all the time. Learn that the professor loves math and can actually help us learn to teach math. Get out fifteen minutes earlier than she will usually let us out, which is fifteen minutes earlier than the class is supposed to end.
Walk over to Math Pedagogy with the lovely woman with two sons who are older than me. Arrive twenty minutes early to find that our professor was already there with cookies made by his wife. Chat for a while until the other five students arrive (total: 7). Listen to professor read letters from students and talk about teaching in a way that makes me want to cry. Fail to understand how I possibly get the opportunity to teach. Talk about our motives to teach and gain so much admiration for my professor, while totally relating to him and getting really excited about teaching.

Seriously, this day was fantastic. Small class sizes are such a blessing, and meeting with people who love education is such a blessing, and people who know me and my passions are such a blessing, and I just can't believe I get to be here, now, preparing for the life I can't believe I get to live.

Maybe not the best idea ever.

2012-01-30T01:29:00.001-08:00

Leaving for a bonfire 11 hours before your first class of the semester is probably not the best idea. But I did it anyway, knowing that I'd go to bed tonight smelling like bonfire smoke even after a shower, feet a little softer after being exfoliated by beach sand, and with that feeling of contentment that always follows a night at the beach.

Tonight consisted of being reunited with friends, being antisocial, standing at the edge of the Pacific and letting the waves rush past my legs as I stared into the open water, listening to Tallest Man on Earth while watching friends and watching the fire, singing Sk8er Boi and This Love and feeling like myself again, eating hot dogs and marshmallows, and a fairly quite drive home with good music.

I might not be thrilled in the morning, but I'm glad I had tonight.

Los Angeles.

2012-01-28T15:54:00.001-08:00

I am currently on the Metro, headed home after a day in downtown Los Angeles. I think my stop is coming soon. This may be a fractured post, but I will write it.

It was the next stop. At least I started writing it on the Metro. Now I am tired and a little bit hungry and have decided to write instead of doing anything on my to do list... while listening to sad music. Because I can.

Today was:
Learning how the Metro works and feeling like I'd be in London when I left the station.
Getting a Los Angeles Library card an making plans to read children's books in Spanish and books about British architecture.
Looking like an idiot while waving my phone in a figure 8 in order to recalibrate the compass.
Financial district, concert hall, and Grand Central Market.
A man asking us what church we went to because we prayed before eating.
Running into the Chinese New Year Parade in Chinatown on accident.
Realizing that Downtown LA is not as big as I thought it was.
People evangelizing on the Metro.
Making plans to return often.

I love Los Angeles. I really do. And there's something kind of disappointing about returning to Biola after a day in the city. I love the diversity and the energy and the history and the sense of motion that is always there. I want to be there and invest myself into it and become a part of it instead of merely a visitor.

I keep feeling myself growing out of this school. I'm not moving on yet, but I'm almost ready, even though I thought I never would be. I'm getting ready for the next stage of my life.

Tabernacle.

2012-01-26T00:49:00.001-08:00

Whenever I see a really impressive church building, I inevitably wonder how the effort and money could have been better spent. It's beautiful, yes, and beautiful things have their value, but shouldn't the church be spending that money on those who need it? My church back home meets in an old Nissan dealership, not a cathedral. Our money is better spent otherwise. An Santa Maria doesn't really have cathedrals...

Tonight I read Exodus 25 through 27 as part of the reading plan I'm working through. Those three chapters are entirely devoted to God's requirements for the tabernacle. Everything in the tabernacle is constructed from the best things and constructed well. I was particularly struck by Exodus 26:31:
"And you shall make a veil of blue and purple and scarlet yarns and fine twined linen. It shall be made with cherubim skillfully worked into it."
Not only is the veil made of fine linen, but the work is done with skill. The tabernacle was extravagant. It makes sense for a holy place to be the best of the best.

I don't know how to reconcile these two things. Obviously, some extravagance is expected from God's people; it reflects God's glory. Yet we're supposed to love others. The camel goes through the eye of a needle more easily than the rich man enters heaven. Where does the church's money go? How should it be distributed? What should be spent on the church itself, whether it be the building, events, or programs within the church, and how much should be used to help the less fortunate?

I am really impressed by Pandora.

2012-01-25T00:04:00.001-08:00

I don't normally use Pandora. I have a lot of music and am normally pretty content with listening to whatever is on my iPod. I have a Pandora account with a few stations, but the only time I remember using it in the recent past was over Christmas because I could play a jazz Christmas station on our living room TV while sitting in a comfy chair by the fireplace. Other than that, it doesn't have much appeal.
Tonight, though, I had the desire to listen to Dntel-type music without listening to only Dntel, and I don't have much that's similar to Dntel in my music library. So I pulled up the Pandora app that I put on my phone while on an app-finding kick and started a Dntel station.
At first, it was a lot of music I didn't particularly enjoy, so I was giving a lot of thumbs down. I didn't have any other artists in mind to add to the station, so my hopes weren't very high. I'm picky when it comes to electronic music, but I couldn't describe what I liked and hated about certain songs.
Pandora figured it out, though, and they put labels on it. An hour into listening (which isn't a ton of songs later... these songs are long.), I either like or love the majority of the songs playing on this station. With a simple yes, no, or neutral response for each song, a program determined what songs I feel like listening to and can tell me the technical reasons why a song appeals to me. They managed to take something that, to me, seems quite abstract and hard to pin down, and turn it into a science. It amazes me.
I know I'm behind, just now being completely in awe of Pandora, but, like I said, I've never used it much. But I'm impressed. Very impressed. Good job, Music Genome Project people.

Creativity.

2012-01-24T19:57:00.001-08:00

I want to draw. To paint. To write. To create something beautiful. I long to be creative, but the closest I get is this blog or yarn crafts. It's not enough. Yarn crafts don't look beautiful and I don't feel creative when I write. I miss painting with Emma, when we'd stay up way too late and I'd possibly finish a background by the time she was finishing her painting. I was doing something that was my own, not just following some formula, and it looked nice. Never quite beautiful, but nice. I don't have the money to spend on paints, brushes, and canvases, though, and I don't want to paint alone. So I'll wish that I were a painter, a writer, or a musician while I read books and solve math problems.

2012-01-23T10:41:00.001-08:00

I'm pretty sure that this Calculus II class is not worth the time, money, and effort it will take to finish it in time. That is mostly my fault for procrastinating, but I'm also not a fan of having to pay someone to proctor tests I'm probably going to fail, so... here's hoping Cerro Coso offers their Calculus II class online again this summer. I could get an extra 6 months to finish this class for $25 per 3 months, and I already paid way too much for this class, but I just don't like it. And I want to read all week and enjoy my last week off before another 18 unit semester with 12 hours of work a week and 35 hours of fieldwork and maybe, for once, get a little bit ahead. So I'm calling it quits for now. Maybe I'll get an extension in a few weeks and cram Calculus II into the semester. But for now, I quit.

Edit: Unless, of course, I get an email back from Cerro Coso letting me know that they are only offering Calculus I this summer. Well then...

I will pray.

2012-01-23T00:37:00.001-08:00

I'm back to that place where I want to fix everything for my friends. I can focus on other people's problems, and I feel okay with trying to fix them. But there is so much going on right now that I don't have advice for. I see the signs of hurt without knowing the cause. I have never experienced the hurt they have. Or I have, but my response was to run away, too. I don't have the solutions. So I'm learning to really pray for my friends, because I can't do anything else. And I know it shouldn't be a last-ditch effort, but sometimes you have to learn the goodness of something by being forced into it. I don't know how to pray about my life, but I know how to let my life sit where it is. I have to help my friends, though; it's just what I do. So I will fall down in front of my God and plea for them: for the unknown, the un-experienced, and the unresolved. I will pray for them and I will learn how to be a person who prays, not just at meals and in times of crisis.

Relief

2012-01-17T01:41:00.001-08:00

I've found it really easy to be overwhelmed by sadness lately. One thing will come to mind and I fixate it, ignoring the many ways that I am blessed even though I am aware of them. I could make a list and rationalize it as much as possible, and I know I should be happy, but those few reasons I have to be upset have a much stronger influence on how I feel. I sit and journal and am sad and can't seem to get past it.

Tonight, I was watching a movie and knitting. I looked up at the wall behind my desk. If anyone has been in any of my rooms these past three years, they know that whatever wall is behind my desk becomes a makeshift bulletin board. As the year passes, I accumulate pictures, posters, notes, concert tickets, and other mementos of joyful times. Tonight I was particularly drawn to my photo cable. What was initially hung from my wall with some pictures that made me smile is now completely filled with pictures of giant smiles and pretty places as well as cards from people who I cherish and tickets from wonderful days and evenings. I was overwhelmed by how much joy was held to that cable by magnets. That cable is just a small representation of my life, and while it doesn't hold pictures of the things that make me sad, I'm pretty sure that there are not enough things in my life that make me sad to overcome the joy that fills my life.

I don't think that moment tonight is going to stop the sadness. I know I'm blessed, but I can't seem to convince myself out of sadness sometimes. But I needed that moment. I had a moment in which anything but sheer joy seemed utterly impossible, which was such a relief after so many days that felt only mediocrely joyful. Maybe I'll be able to hang onto that moment when sadness tries to take over again. At the very least, I got some relief today, and I am so grateful for that.

My own.

2012-01-14T20:17:00.000-08:00

There's something beautiful about being completely independent for a day.

My roommate is home for the weekend and there still aren't many people on campus because school doesn't start for two more weeks. I didn't have anything that needed to be done today - no one I made plans to see, no work that absolutely needed to be done.

So I did today at my own pace, did what I wanted, and didn't tell anyone about it. I posted one picture on Instagram because the sunset was stunning, but I didn't text anyone about what I was doing, I didn't check in anywhere, I didn't post any statuses - nothing. And when I was done, I came back to my room and no one asked me what I did. I was going to write about it, but I decided not to. No one gets to assess this day in any way. It is my day, and it will remain untainted by the opinions of others, whether those opinions would be good or bad.

I'm plugged in to a lot of social media. We keep constant tabs on each others' lives. I feel affirmed when people like my statuses or pictures or comment on a post. When I stop to think about it, I realize that I have been less pleased with an event because I told someone about it later and they did not share my excitement. So today is going to remain my own. People may like how I chose to spend my time, but I'm not going to put it out there. I don't think I'll tell anyone how I spent today, even if they ask. Today is going to be only mine, and I will cherish it.

2012-01-04T01:40:00.001-08:00

I don't know why I hurt so much. I have a good day with people who I love very much, yet I go to bed and simply want to cry and throw myself into someone's arms. I don't know why I have this pressing desire to feel loved, but it seems to be returning more and more often. I want to get a condo like the one we're staying in this week and decorate it with a man who I love and loves me back and then have some kids and buy that diaper bag I saw in Costco today and carry them around on my hip while I do other things and be there for them in their pain and crankiness and know that, no matter what, they are mine and I am theirs and my husband loves me and them and I can get that hug that is really telling me that he thinks the world of me whenever I want it. But my friends get engaged and I've never even been asked out and I use my maternal instincts to be an aunt to my nephews when they aren't quite mine and I'm not quite theirs and no one is there to give me those hugs and I try to sleep and can feel the loneliness. It hurts. And no amount of love from friends seems to help. I just want to look at someone and know that I am his and be is mine. And I want to cry but the only thing that's wrong is that I am not in love, but there are so many ways it could be worse, so why should I cry? But I want to be loved and have it be okay to love someone that much. I'm tired of not having that be the case.

I'm going to make some practical resolutions.

2012-01-01T22:11:00.000-08:00

I don't usually make resolutions, but I am now two years away from finishing school. I turn 21 this year. I have an iPhone. I have tools in my hands and I need to take advantage of them. I have decided to commit to doing some very explicit things this year. While I am a fan of conceptual resolutions, I'm not very good at them, and I am also a fan of to do lists. So here, my to-do list for 2012:

Use my iPhone for good, not evil. Avoid time wasting apps and use apps that help me to be more productive or to do better things.
Read the Bible every day. Here's an example of using my iPod for good. My Bible app is set up with a daily reading plan and reminders. For realsies this time, I am committing to spending time in Scripture. Hopefully this will turn into more than just something on my to-do list, but it will at least be that, every day.
Keep track of my finances. At the very least, keep Quicken updated when statements are sent to me each month, with details. This includes making smart purchases instead of justifying spending because I have an income.
Stay on top of my school work. I cannot love what I am doing when I am cramming it in, and I do not want to hate school anymore.
Stick to a workout routine of some sort. At the very least, I have two P.E. classes this semester, but I miss walking. Walk and run on a regular basis.
Get a driver's license before I turn 21. Seriously, I have to beat my sister.

2011-12-30T02:51:00.000-08:00

Last night, I dreamt that I made a last minute decision to tag along with Torrey Cambridge, with no idea how I'd pay for it. I forgot my power adaptor and that I couldn't use my phone in England and kept texting people. I woke up and thought about how much I miss England, then fell back asleep a few times and dreamt about dreaming about England.

In the car with Emma this afternoon, I decided that I needed to move to England around 40. She suggested I work in a bookstore. I decided I'd live in the country, ride my bike to work in the nearest bookstore, then ride my bike home.

Tonight, I watched Love Actually because my sister got it from Netflix. It's a British film. My heart wanted to explode every few seconds. Every time I see any pictures or videos of London, I about die.

Then I thought about how much I long to be in England, and how much I should long for the New Jerusalem. Another theological thought that I'm not sure how to pursue. I just thought. I desire a lot of things a lot more than I desire Jesus a lot of the time. I think I don't quite know how to desire Jesus.

I've been feeling alone a lot. Pretty much since the beginning of the semester, plus a bunch of times before that. I think that comes back to desiring Jesus more, but I don't know what to do about that. I'm feeling kind of stranded and directionless. I like steps and to-do lists and instruction manuals and troubleshooting guides. My life doesn't have any of those, though. There's not really a surefire set of steps for being a good Christian. It's a heart thing, and I guess the heart doesn't like to work like my brain works, but that's frustrating. My heart wants to be in love and wants to feel special and wants to move to England but my brain knows that God hasn't put someone in my life yet and I have things to do here and things will be okay. But my brain also wants to know how to fix my heart and help it desire what it's supposed to desire.

I spend a lot of time feeling helpless. I don't know what to do with that.

Yes, Virginia

2011-12-27T02:11:00.000-08:00

I just watched "Yes, Virginia" on Netflix. I was going to post a quote on Facebook and find a place to watch it somewhere else, but instead I found the full editorial online. It can be found here, but here's an excerpt:

"Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished."

In the cartoon, the mother says something about living out the ideas that Santa Claus represents. She says that we prove Santa Claus is real by being kind to others. It made me think of a sermon my pastor gave last week. He was talking about Saint Nicholas, and how we got the myth of Santa Claus from his life. This man made a habit of gift because he loved others with the love of Christ. While there have been so many alterations made to Christmas and Santa Claus and all of the traditions surrounding it all, it is all rooted in the simple fact that God so loved the world that he gave his son. God became man as an act of love. Saint Nicholas gave gifts as an act of love in response to that act of love. Santa Claus is supposed to inspire us to do the same, but the mother in the movie and the editor of the New York Sun got one thing wrong: It isn't belief in Santa Claus that does all of that. Santa Claus has been glorified and seems to have taken the place of Christ, at least here. I'm not the type to take a stand against consumerism in Christmas; it's just not a battle I want to fight. But Yes, Virginia tells a great story with a great point, it's just directed at the wrong figure. Santa Claus via Saint Nicholas via Jesus should inspire us to love others, but I doubt Saint Nicholas would have wanted the credit, which means Santa Claus shouldn't get it either.

I'm not suggesting we do what I've heard many Christians suggest and seen many Christians do. I don't think Santa needs to go away. I do think Yes, Virginia provides a needed perspective shift, but I also think we need to shift it one step further, and acknowledge that we love because God first loved us.

Weird.

2011-12-27T01:25:00.000-08:00

I don't understand this. I don't know where these views came from or who is reading my blog or why they want to read my blog. It's flattering, and while part of me wants to know who's reading what I post part of me knows that I'll write differently if I know certain people are reading what I write, and this is an outlet that I need. I'm not a particularly private person, so I'm okay with people reading what I have to say, but it's strange to think that people want to read what I have to say.
I used to not see my stats on a regular basis. I changed emails and just added on my new email as an author rather than an administrator, so I didn't have access to the stats unless I signed onto my old account. Now both accounts are administrators, so every time I go to read blogs that I follow or post a blog, I see how many pageviews my blog has. Every time. It's weird. Really weird. The statistics don't give me information about where all the views are coming from; apparently people go straight to my blog rather than clicking on links, so I just have all these origin-less views, and the numbers keep going up.

It's just... weird. The internet is weird.

Also, disclaimer to my previous post: I was especially moody the last few days, and there were so many times when I said, "I know it's stupid and I don't want to be upset but I can't stop being upset." Things are better now. My Christmas didn't suck at all, separate from the negativity I brought into it. It's easy for me to see what could have been better, but it also could have been a lot worse. I am blessed to have had the Christmas I had, and I'm sorry to all the people who were brought down by my moodiness. I don't think most of the people who were will read this, but it's here anyway. This is also so all of you mystery readers know that my life isn't horrible.

Why I love the season but always manage to have a terrible day.

2011-12-25T11:03:00.000-08:00

Here's the thing: Christmas is great. I love Jesus. The reminder of the weight of Jesus' incarnation once a year is wonderful. Christmastime is beautiful. Lights, music, everyone feeling like they should be at least a little bit happy. Christmas is my favorite holiday, winter is my favorite season.

Christmas is also the day on which spending time with family and friends is most emphasized. This means that I either spend time with family like I'm supposed to or find a replacement family.

Scenario A looks like this:
Make sure I'm home for Christmas. We all spend most of the day in our separate rooms. My parents spend a bit of time together, but there is inevitably a time in which my dad is impatient or my mom is upset and I'm reminded that we are not a happy family. I stay at home all day, thinking, "Hey, it's Christmas. We'll do something together at some point." But night comes around and my parents go to sleep and I feel like I've wasted my day. But I feel guilty if I spend my day doing things that prevent me from spending time with my family, even though I know my family never does anything together. I hold out for the chance, and either way I am upset.

Scenario B looks like this:
Spend Christmas Eve at church, Christmas Day with Emma's family. Be constantly aware of the fact that I am not actually family to any of these people. As much as people are great and bring me into their families, actual family is always going to be loved more. That's the way it's supposed to be, but that doesn't mean I feel any less lonely because of it.

My Christmas could be a lot worse. I could be alone. I could have a family that fights all day instead of just ignoring each other. I could not have a church family or Emma's family. I could not love Jesus. I understand that I should be grateful, and I am. But my heart likes to feel pain when my brain tells it not to, so I cry myself to sleep on Christmas Eve and have to work to smile on Christmas.

These last two days.

2011-12-20T21:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I went with Emma's mother and brother down to LAX to get Emma. Emma drove home after we stopped for dinner in Malibu, which was the first time we had been in a car with her driving since early July. Though it was a different car and her mom and brother were in the back, it felt like home. We made our way home, listening to music and talking as those in the back seat slept. After learning some less-than-pleasant things at her house last night, we went for another drive. We played Postal Service and Decemberists on her laptop as she drove us out to Tepusquet and we talked. It's been five years now that we've known each other. We're both in such different places than when we met. I still like her a lot. There's just a lot to relearn.

My sister picked me up from Emma's house today. I don't know if it was me or the kids, but today was just hard. Aidan didn't want to listen to anything I had to say, and I didn't have much patience for him. My sister and her husband left for a Christmas party and it took so much effort not to put the kids to bed at 6:30. I made it to 8:30, still earlier than when they usually go to sleep, but Aidan just about died because he couldn't find his second slipper and Deklahn started crying because Aidan was crying. It is an interesting thing to try to fit two boys, 3 and 4 years old, both very big for their age, onto my lap while they're both crying. So they went to bed. Now I sit here in an empty living room wondering how my sister gets through a day and trying to imagine what my life will look like in five years.

The professor I wrote this for sent me a message tonight, telling me he went back and read that post and was tearing up in a Starbucks. I just wanted to go to whatever Starbucks he was in and give him a hug, then talk to him about life. Instead, I started thinking about him. I wonder what his life is like right now. Is he doing what he wants to be doing, or is he like my sister, doing what he needs to do and hoping things will get better? He has two boys, too. Two boys I know he loves dearly, but two boys who probably have their days just like my nephews did today. How does he get through those days? Is he wearing down or is he doing well?

These last two days have had me thinking, thinking about the realities of life and the details we don't see. We're not in each others' heads, and we don't even witness most of what goes on in the lives of others. I don't know what it's like to be Emma, her family members, my sister, or my former professor. I would love to know what it's like to be them so that I could love them better, cater to their specific needs, empathize in the best way possible. But I don't. So I fill the holes and make assumptions about what the rest of their lives must be like and try to love them the best I can. But I fail, inevitably. No one knows the inner workings of my life and mind, either, so people fail at loving me, too. And now I realize that I've been unintentionally working my way toward the love of God. "You have searched me and known me." Hm. What to do with that... Unsatisfying ending to a blog post, right here. One of those, "I just needed to write in order to think" posts.

Done.

2011-12-13T14:35:00.000-08:00

My hands were perfectly still. No shaking this time.
I said things. Nothing brilliant, but things.
I didn't cry.
My paper was very good.
For some reason, Dr. Reynolds gave me a high score for a session where I did not say a single word.
I am done with finals.

In the midst...

2011-12-12T18:40:00.000-08:00

of sleep deprivation, illness, and altogether trashing my body in order to get things done, combined with the stress and difficulties that come with trying to finish off a semester well, I am reminded of God's provision.

At 3:30 today, I finished pull questions that were due at 5 PM, so I decided to sleep until getting dinner with friends at 5:15. One of my friends is leaving in the morning, so she got all of her friends together for dinner. At said dinner, I had so many people ask me how I'm doing and listen to me talk about how exhausted I am. They sympathized with me and told me they'd be praying for me, and they never once belittled my problems that are mostly self-induced. I also ate a decent amount of food for the first time in a while, which made me feel much better. I suppose I just need to eat all night and I might get through.
After that, I returned to my dorm, where my RA generously shared her cold medicine with me, giving me hope that tonight might be more bearable than I expected.
I've taken the pressure off of myself to do well in Calculus; I merely need to pass. I have three hours between my final and Don Rags with which to review, so I'm not going to kill myself tonight. I am going to do what I can, but my health is more important with my grades and I just need to finish. And I have wonderful people around me who want to make sure that happens. Sometimes you just need to spend an hour at a table full of friends.

Why research papers and I are not friends:

2011-12-11T18:58:00.001-08:00

Primary reason: I get really interested in everything related to my topic that doesn't help me write the actual paper and spend forever reading everything I can find, then realize I don't have anything to put in my paper. Why is computer science and engineering so much more interesting than math right now?

Secondary reason: I want to craft an argument. Paper is the one place where I am really good at crafting an argument, but research papers merely present information. There's a thesis in my paper, allegedly, and I guess I'm technically supporting it, but I'm pretty sure I'm actually just telling you everything I know about random number generation right now. There is no direction. No flow. No accomplishment. I'm just giving you information, and my paper should be structured in such a way that you can find the information without reading the whole paper. I understand why that's helpful, but that's not how my brain works. Let me tell you why random number generation is important. Or something. Even that wouldn't be as interesting as writing a Torrey paper, but my mind is rebelling against this writing process. I want to be creative.

But I have 15 hours until my paper is due and need to do some Torrey work and Calc studying at some point, too, and maybe sleep sometime, so it'd be best if I could just get this paper written.

In other words, stop blogging, Robynne.

[[PS: I always forget how good Sufjan Steven's Seven Swans (Oh holy alliteration, Batman) is (the album, not just the song). You should listen to it. Right now. That dress looks nice on you.]]

Here in the love of Christ I stand.

2011-12-10T21:21:00.001-08:00

Here I stand, surrounded by the perfect love of Christ and the abundant love of so many friends, feeling small and worthless.

I ride this roller coaster, spending about 90% of my time theoretically okay, and 10% of my time with my feelings aligned with my heart. I feel completely undeserving of love and, worse, unchanged by God's love. And here's the thing: I am completely undeserving of God's love. But that doesn't make me any less loved by God, and that's the thing I can't seem to get past. I'm also not any less lovable than my friends who are able to accept God's love. And I've acknowledged this, I know this, but yet I still see myself this way. Other people see that and try to help me, but I still see myself this way. And then I cry, because I know I shouldn't see myself this way and desperately want to fix myself.

Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I can't fix the way I see myself. Maybe I need to take my own advice from that paper I wrote this semester and let God be a good father who takes care of the kids he loves. Maybe I need to trust that God will show me who I am in his eyes. Maybe I need to stop freaking out about not being perfect.

What I did tonight:

2011-12-09T23:37:00.001-08:00

Allaelon Christmas party, where I saw none of my Omis but several lovely women I rarely spend time with. I also played goldfish.
English Christmas party, where I held my own despite being a math major and got a book for my roommate when everyone else wanted it. I also spent a bit of time wishing I were an English major, but decided to be content with being a math major who spends lots of time with English majors.
Rich Kids Comedy, where I watched a lovely Ignaut do improv and missed her a lot.
Sang Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays quite loudly.
Deck the Haven, where I wished Hart had bigger rooms so I could hang out in the bayou and listen to people sing and play banjo.

I love the place I live and work and go to school. There are lovely people here, and I'm so glad I get to be involved in these things.

Now if only I could take a Kleist class...

Tell us about yourself.

2011-12-08T13:31:00.001-08:00

After reading a friend's bio on the website for a magazine she edits, I wondered why she chose to say the things she did and what I think is most important for people to know about me. Given a paragraph, how would I communicate myself to the world?
I'm asked to do this whenever I create a new account on any website that has any sort of social purpose. The prompt is usually something along the lines of "About Me:" or "Tell us about yourself:" and I typically respond with "I love Jesus, books, music, and people." I say it in different ways, but that's the general idea I communicate.

But that doesn't paint a very good picture of me. There are lots of people who love Jesus, books, music, and people, and are quite different from me. So, who am I? If I really wanted someone to know who I am, what would I tell them? I'd probably tell them to ask someone else what they think, but shouldn't I be able to communicate what I want people to know about me?

I was going to try to write something here, attempting to represent myself, in words, to you, regardless of how well you know me. But I got distracted. I want to post the thought process before I decide it's not worth posting, so I'm going to continue to think about this. I really do think it takes insight to write well about oneself, and I want to be able to do so.

Breathe.

2011-12-06T21:41:00.001-08:00

I exhale. Done. Complete. I've anticipated it for almost a full semester, and now I'm done.

Then I inhale, and my to-do list comes rushing back into my mind.

Soon, that list will be gone, but for now, I take advantage of the the exhalations and try to work hard upon inhalation.

Life, now.

2011-12-01T21:53:00.001-08:00

I have Rainbow sandals now. I'm wearing them right now because they're comfy.
I submitted TPA 1.
I finished my paper for Readings in Mathematics.
I checked out books from the library for the first time today. Two Isaiah commentaries. Hello there, weekend.
I still have 14 chapels to do. That's fun.
I've gone to 13 lectures this semester. The requirement is 4. If only I got chapel credit for the extra ones.
Editing my paper should be doable, though it will take a decent amount of time.
I have a list of things to do running through my head at all times. I'm doing better with it, though. I keep having assignments that remind me of why I care about what I'm doing and life looks a little better.

And I don't think I posted about it here yet... I'll hopefully be working for Teach for America this summer.

2011-11-30T00:53:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I stress and freak out and feel like everything is meaningless.
I can try to keep myself calm and attack myself with brute-force logic to try and convince myself of things that are true. That only works for acute cases, though. It's not a rational decision, so logic won't really fix things.
So, in times like this evening, I go back to my room, hoping no one is there so that I can cry. I lay on my bed with the lights off and cry a bit. I begin to pray and process what in the world I am feeling. I hold my breath because, for some reason, it feels right. It builds the physical tension to complement the emotional tension, I suppose. My crying turns to sobbing, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around my head because I have to have some sort of physical response to this overwhelmingly defeating feeling I am experiencing. My mental prayers become spoken words through sobs, asking God what I am feeling and why. What comes out of my mouth after that seems like it is probably some sort of logical deduction that leads to something meaningful, but I know that I previously tried logic and I know that the words I just said were likely the manifestation of God working in me to show me truth. The peace I feel at the end of it all is definitely from God, and I nap before returning to my work for the evening.
I know where the feeling of emptiness comes from and, hopefully, how to fight it off in the future. I know that God is good and sometimes we need to work hard to be less than perfect.

My life.

2011-11-29T13:08:00.001-08:00

Sometimes, my glasses fall to pieces seconds before I walk into Dr. Spears' office to talk about my paper.
Then Dr. Spears pulls a MacGyver and fixes them for me.

This is my life.

Why yes.

2011-11-25T23:49:00.001-08:00

I do have a Britney Spears song on my Christmas playlist. Because what's Christmas without listening to Britney Spears whining to Santa about wanting a boyfriend?

Every year, I consider deleting it... but it's just too much fun.

2011-11-24T21:45:00.001-08:00

So much for not doing much over Thanksgiving break and having plenty of time to cram in homework.

I'm going to do laundry, then get started on my TPA, which is due Wednesday by 5.

2011-11-24T00:06:00.001-08:00

I have this theoretical brother in my mind who's a bum that does nothing with his life because he has nothing to offer.
Yet every time I come home, I have some late-night conversation with him that reminds me that he has a great heart and a sense of direction that's been postponed for a few years while he lives a life that doesn't look meaningful from the outside. But that heart of his, he's sharing it with his friends. He may be a bit misguided sometimes, but he's a good guy, and he knows what he's done wrong, and he knows where he's going. And he loves his sisters like the best brother in the world.

Every inch you see is bruised.

2011-11-21T13:05:00.001-08:00

But, seriously, there are way too many large bruises on the right side of my body and I have no idea where most of them came from. And they're all on the right side of my body. It's strange. Probably the most mysterious bruises I've acquired over the span of a week.

How to make everything better:

2011-11-17T22:11:00.001-08:00

The last few days have felt like a month. I'm not getting a ton of sleep, and but it's like I sleep from 9:30 until whenever I get up in the morning without getting that much sleep, because my day has to end at 9:30. It's stressful. That's life during tech week.

I haven't been showering especially often this week. I'd rather get thirty more minutes of sleep than take a shower, so I do. Then I wear t-shirts that are particularly unflattering, my Biola sweatshirt which is even more unflattering, and my flip flops which have had a hole in them for about a month now. I look like a mess and I feel like a mess.

Tonight was my last class of the week. I could let myself take a breather before having to complete assignments, so I told myself I would take a shower after class. I got back to my room and decided it would be better to sit on my couch than take a shower because moving didn't sound particularly enjoyable. Then I traced out my night and realized I probably wouldn't take a shower before tomorrow, and then I'd just be really gross, not even acceptable by tech week standards. So I took a shower, put on a tank top that fits nicely, and brushed my hair. For ten or fifteen minutes. Brushing my hair while it's wet is probably one of the best stress releases for me, especially when it's this long. After I was done brushing my hair, I tied it up in a side ponytail, which is much more attractive than my greasy high ponytail I've been rocking for most of the week. I put on my Timey Wimey Detector necklace and a cardigan, as well as my flats that I wear when I want to be classy. I walked to rehearsal, feeling clean and classy and ready to take on the world.

Sandwiches

2011-11-17T13:30:00.001-08:00

Today, I was sitting on a couch in Sutherland, trying to stay awake as I worked on my English Learner reflection assignment. I had a half-eaten sandwich sitting on a plate next to me that I was eating as I worked. Dr. Spears walked to his office, but as he passed me, he grabbed my plate and kept walking. I responded, "Heyyy! Well that's fine. I wasn't going to eat the rest of my sandwich anyway." He laughed, returned my sandwich to its place, and lightly punched me on the shoulder as he walked away.

This is a small moment, something that's actually kind of regular in my life at this point, but I decided to text a few friends and tell them about it because it made me smile on a particularly stressful day. Emma and I talked about it for a bit, with her saying things like, "So weird, but most definitely awesome." "You do know that's unusual, right? Lucky." and "Want."
I live in this state where I'm aware that it's awesome that I have relationships like this with my professors. I'm in an awesome program where I spend four years in classes with these professors and meet with my mentor on a regular basis, developing a personal relationship with each of them over time. But there are moments like this when I realize how truly great this is. It's become my norm for what a college education should look like, but it's not what most people's education looks like. Personal relationships are so important to me, and I'm in this program that understands that. You ideally spend four years with the same classmates, the same mentor, and the same professors for half of your classes, and in a situation like that, you can't help but build relationships. People are truly invested in your life by the end of two years, and I'm 99% positive I'm going to cry like someone has died when it comes time to graduate. I have bonds with these people like I don't even have with most of my family. It's so wonderful.

Well hello there, first night of tech week.

2011-11-15T11:32:00.001-08:00

You officially kicked my butt. I don't want to do anything but sleep. I guess it's time to caffeinate and do some work.

2011-11-11T01:32:00.001-08:00

Dear guest lecturer whose lecture I had to record even though it didn't sound interesting to me,

Thank you for affirming my life dreams and reminding me of the love I have for people in broken relationships. Most rewarding lecture of the semester.

<3

This is it.

2011-11-09T21:06:00.000-08:00

I am making a decision, right here, right now. I'm not going to let my failures define me, and I am not going to let the fact that something isn't what I want it to be keep me from being successful. I don't want to be in session with twenty people, but that's the task I've been called to this semester, so I'm going to rock it from now on. I don't like Calculus tests, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to rock them from now on. I have procrastinated to the point where I'm going to have to work really hard to get projects finished on time, but I'm not going to dwell in my tiredness. I'm going to see the good work I'm doing and be encouraged to do better. I have tasks I must complete to do the things God has set in my path, and I'm going to rock them, and I'm going to have a good attitude in the process. My life is not horrible because I have so much work to do, and I will not get caught up in complaining like everyone around me. We just encourage each other to hate what we do. These are my opportunities to learn and grow and display who I am, and I am going to take advantage of them.

I understand that this may sound cheesy, but I need to make this big commitment right now. I can't live like this for the rest of the semester, and this is my alternative. I am going to, in the words of Jennifer Loeser, rock it.

2011-11-09T18:59:00.000-08:00

Another blessing: Knowing that, 3 days from now, I will be going to a Jack's Mannequin concert. Let's tough this week out.

2011-11-09T18:56:00.000-08:00

Blessing: Good friends who see the good in me and try to help me.

Edit: And professors who do the same.

2011-11-09T13:43:00.000-08:00

I feel like I'm living with my hands half-up. I think about throwing my hands up, realize I shouldn't, lower my hands, but can't deny that desire. So my hands are somewhere near my head, not completely giving up, but not really touching anything.

This is a problem.

Let's play pretend.

2011-11-08T22:45:00.000-08:00

I want to sleep. I want to curl up in a ball and sleep and pretend the semester's over. Pretend I didn't get an email from my professor during session tonight asking me why I wasn't saying anything, despite loving the book and feeling prepared for session and having a good discussion with Jessie. Pretend I haven't failed two Calculus tests this semester. Pretend I don't have major projects that I've yet to start. Pretend that all of my professors are wrong, that I'm just plain bad at this. Pretend that no one should expect anything more from me and that it would be perfectly fine for me to settle for less because I can't be expected to change the world.

But I have this potential that everyone seems to see in me, and that I see in myself sometimes. I want to change the world, even if that just means one person's world. So I need to do this; I need to fulfill my potential.

But it'd just be so easy not to.

Oh, the waves of my emotions this semester.

Here goes.

2011-11-07T14:40:00.000-08:00

I'm about to read a paper I wrote in early 2009. We were reading Frankenstein for AP English, I had a two page paper due, and I needed an eight page paper for my Torrey application. So I wrote the eight page paper and then cut it down to two pages to turn it in. I just finished reading Frankenstein for Torrey and wanted to see what 17-year-old me thought. I'm not sure why... I even asked the Torrey Office if they had it on file because I checked my backups and didn't have it. Carri sent it to me and it's sitting here, open, waiting for my class to end so that I can read it.

I don't want to read my writing from three years ago. I'm expecting it to be terrible, but I have no idea what to legitimately expect. I don't even have to do this, but we were just talking about the importance of comparing early work to current work in my education class. It'll be good for me. But it's going to be so weird.

I love my roommate.

2011-11-06T13:29:00.000-08:00

I woke up to the rain this morning.
As I was getting ready for church, my roommate woke up, and we had the following exchange:

Maci: "Robynne?"
Me: "Yes?"
"Is it raining?"
"I saw drops on the ground a little bit ago. I'm not sure if it's actually raining right now, but the ground is wet."
"Then you know what kind of day today is?"
"... a rainy day?"
"A jazz day. Mm, Sinatra."

Let's make a list, shall we?

2011-11-03T22:18:00.000-07:00

Large assignments I have yet to start:

EL Strengths Project
TPA
Isaiah, which I need to prep and lead session on.
10-page research paper for Readings in Mathematics.
Probability project, which I haven't even read the assignment for, so we're going to assume it requires a billion hours of work, just to be on the safe side.

Not to mention having almost failed my first two Calculus tests.

Yet I am at rehearsal, because the show is in two weeks and I have been to approximately two hours of rehearsal prior to tonight. And I'm not as stressed as I should be. Hence the list. To stress me into work.

I miss...

2011-11-02T15:39:00.000-07:00

I miss being around musicians while they are playing music. Even if it just means my brother playing guitar in the next room - even though he plays the same songs all the time and I don't particularly enjoy most of them. I especially miss house shows. I want people to just hang around me with acoustic guitars or banjos or something and sing in my vicinity and just let me be present in their creative process.

Kardashian.

2011-11-02T00:51:00.000-07:00

I'm going to say this from the perspective of someone who didn't know anything about any celebrity wedding, but has seen all the hate popping up on Facebook and tumblr.

Yes, I know, it sucks that Kim Kardashian spent a ridiculous amount of money on a wedding that ended in a divorce, and ended rather quickly.
Yes, I understand all of the wonderful things that money could have done had it been in other hands.

But this is my perspective:

Would it have been okay if she had stayed married? People seem to be saying that, because it ended in a divorce, it was a waste of money. But you do realize that we have an entire industry full of people who pay way too much money for parties and houses and personal shoppers and designer clothes, right? On a daily basis, money is flowing out of their bank accounts and more money is flowing back in. I'm sure people waste ridiculous amounts of money on their birthday parties, but no one is posting pictures of them all over the internet. Kim Kardashian made a mistake by marrying the wrong person. Kim Kardashian made a mistake by spending way too much on a party. But one of them does not make the other one worse. I don't think she deserves any more condemnation than the next celebrity.

And it's not just celebrities. It's everyone in our culture. If we all took the money we spent or will someday spend on our weddings and spent it in a different way, we could save lives. According to the first website I was directed to upon searching, "feed children," $17 could feed someone for a month. But I don't give $17. I spend that on a dinner out with friends every once in a while. I spend half of that on a movie. I spend a third of that on shampoo.

It's easier to criticize someone who can't justify their spending with a happily ever after, but if my sister can get married outside with no chairs, I'm pretty sure we could all spend less on our weddings. Even she bought a wedding dress and went out to dinner, which is unnecessary spending. But we like to celebrate. We like to have a good time, even if it's just because it's a Friday night, and the more money we have, the more we're willing to drop on having a good time.

Yes, that $17 million could have been spent in better ways. But so could most of the money that's flowing around the world. Those people who charged $17 million for their goods and services can now make the decision to feed the homeless or fund cancer research.

Music in friendship.

2011-11-01T11:58:00.000-07:00

I had a conversation with a friend a few weeks ago about the importance of music in my life. We talked about how different our perspectives are when it comes to music. One of the most important questions I can ask someone is, "What kind of music do you listen to?" Not because music determines a friendship, just as any other trait doesn't determine a friendship, but because my taste in music reflects a lot about me, and people who really love music tend to feel the same way. If someone responds with, "Mm, I don't know... everything?" I know that music isn't that important to them, and that's not something we can really bond over. But if someone responds with, "Ah! There's so much! I don't know. Like, ..." and then lists off a few bands, I know that we can at least be passionate about music together, and if those bands match up with some of mine, we can share music interests. I know that, to them, music isn't just something that runs in the background. It's something they care about, something they actually listen to. And if they like the same music I do, that means we enjoy spending our listening time in similar ways. I can be friends with a business major, but I'm more likely to connect with a math or English major; I can be friends with someone who doesn't really care about music, but I'm more likely to connect with someone who loves indie folk. It's not a superiority thing, and it's not a defining factor in friendship, but it's meaningful.

All of this because I wanted to comment on how much I love that Spotify posts to Facebook. It lets me know what my friends are listening to and gives me more things to appreciate about some of them.

Soli Deo gloria.

2011-10-29T22:15:00.000-07:00

I have this friend. She's pretty great. One of the ways in which she manifests this greatness is by being my most loyal blog follower (at least to my knowledge). This doesn't make her great because she makes me feel good by giving me attention. This makes her great because she has this mental history of everything I've expressed on this blog since fairly early in 2009. She makes a point of noticing how I've changed, and sometimes points it out to me. Tonight was one of those nights.

It's been something I've realized myself lately, as you may have been able to tell by that last post I wrote. I used to be defined by my problems, then I was defined as how I escaped from my problems. But now I'm something else. I am a child of God, and my identity as a child of God looks a lot like the identities of a lot of my friends who had "normal" lives. I don't really know how to navigate that right now, but I'm working on it. But I do know the first step: Stopping, noticing, and giving God the glory. I don't know how in the world this girl who was always a fighter and lived from battle to battle is able to sit here, unable to list any major problems in her life right now. I have papers and homework assignments and reading, sure, but those are, when I really think about it, a blessing. It is only by the grace of God that I was able to fight through things, and the fact that I don't have to fight right now shows all the more how great God is.

Soli Deo gloria.

I am.

2011-10-28T03:35:00.000-07:00

The line, "I am dysfunction at its finest" rings through my head tonight. I'm not really sure why it came to mind, but it did.
You see, my sophomore year of high school, we did a poetry unit, and our first poem had to be an I am poem. I did one in junior high, too. English teachers like I am poems.
That year, my I am poem was called, "Dysfunction at its Finest." I just reread it because I had posted it on deviantArt when I wrote it and I haven't touched my gallery in a while, so it's still there.
It's a lame poem, really, but at its heart, it had something good. It was about how I used to be defined by my family's dysfunction, but I was now (at the time of writing) defined by the things that brought me joy. I realize now that a lot of those things were my escapes at the time, but I felt like I had overcome something big.

Well, I've been writing a paper all night, and I just had the desire to write something more creative than a term paper. An updated I am poem, because Torrey professor's aren't going to assign something like that, but I like to try things occasionally.
Now that I've spent this time writing this, I feel like the muse has started to leave me. But we'll see what happens.

I am.
I am the daughter of two broken souls.
I am the sister of four broken souls.
I am a broken soul.
I am a student, a tutor, a friend, an employee.
I am a writer, a mathematician, a philosopher.
I am my successes and failures, though sometimes I feel more like my failures than my successes.
I am my smile and my hugs, long talks over meals.
I am intuitive and understanding, sarcastic and judgmental.
I am dedicated, relaxed, passionate, and bored.
I am going to change lives, for better or for worse.
I am learning and growing, feeling and knowing.
More importantly, most importantly, more important than anything,
I am finally starting to see,
Since before I was or am or could be anything else,
I have been the beloved daughter of God.

Overwhelmed

2011-10-26T00:33:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I just have those days. Days when it is impossible to think that I'm not worth something. Days when I am constantly reminded of my value. Days when God reminds me of how much he cares for me. Days when I feel successful and loved, and people find joy in my joy. Days when the effort feels worth it.

Sometimes the words, "Robynne, I am so glad for you" make me cry because I feel it in my bones. These people have been there with me, praying, listening, and suggesting. They haven't felt the emptiness that I have felt, but they've seen that I've felt it, and they've yearned for me to stop feeling that way. When they see that I feel affirmed, they are truly glad, and they encourage me. They know that I am valuable. They know that I am God's beloved daughter. They know that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, and they rejoice when they see that I know it.

Spending hours reading Pauline epistles, specifically for instances in which it is made clear that God is a faithful Father, is a wonderful experience. I just want to spend time being joyful about the love that God has for us and to feel it in a way I've never felt it before. Last night, I fell asleep without music, just laying there and thanking God for how great he is and how much he loves us. Sitting in that love, feeling it, and being joyful. There is a lot of deep hurt and a decent amount of pain that I am even unaware of right now, but it effects how I see myself and others and the world and God. It's taking a jackhammer to break through some of that, but I think I'm starting to feel the truth that is beyond that pain. Not just knowing it or assenting to it or believing it, but really feeling it.

In our first meeting, I told my spiritual director that sometimes I just want a hug from God. These last few days, it's felt like I've been living with his arms around me.

Things that make me want to return to Cambridge:

2011-10-23T00:31:00.000-07:00

Dr. Sanders suggesting that I use Simeon for my paper. Simeon means staying up until four in the morning, sleeping through my alarm, and half-running to Holy Trinity barefoot, in the rain, while wearing a man's pajama shirt.
Scones. I can taste the clotted cream and jam that should be on them, and I remember eating scones in Dr. Spears' kitchen after he told us to put back the cheap stuff and buy the good stuff at the grocery store, after Spode and I got lost on our bikes because we're slow.
Wordsworth. Very British poems, one of which has "Westminster Bridge" in the title. Westminster Bridge was the first bridge I used to walk across the Thames. Then we used another bridge to walk across the bridge to the Globe that most definitely wasn't the Millenium Bridge and got lost, and that was definitely the fault of the professors.

Apparently, the world wants to remind me of getting lost in England. I loved getting lost in England. I miss getting lost in England.

Oh, Torrey professors.

2011-10-21T00:15:00.000-07:00

I sent out an email to two of my professors at 12:24 PM.
Apparently, professors spend their nights responding to emails, because I received a response from one of them at 11:19 PM and a response from the other at 11:59 PM.

Night owls.

[[Of course, I received both of these emails and responded to them around midnight.]]

All things go.

2011-10-18T19:13:00.000-07:00

Want to know how I know the world is a beautiful place?

I walked out of my building this evening and heard my brother floor playing Sufjan Stevens' "Chicago" at their floor barbecue.

In addition to that, I get to listen to Indie-Folk-Jazz radio on Spotify and I will be going to get cheesecake in about twenty minutes.

===

Fun fact: Jack's Mannequin posted a live recording of Restless Dream today. It was recorded at the concert I went to in June.

MAIL.

2011-10-18T01:23:00.000-07:00

Whenever I send or receive a letter, I do a little shoulder dance that corresponds to the song going through my head.

"We just got a letter. We just got a letter. We just got a letter. I wonder who it's from!"

And three out of five times I hear or use the word, "mail," my brain sings:

"Here's the mail. It never fails. It makes me wanna wag my tail. When it comes, I wanna wail: MAIL!"

I did just do both of those from memory.

Well that's interesting.

2011-10-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

I like answering questions. I don't like asking questions.
I like answering questions on paper. I don't like looking at someone and telling them what I think.
If you don't like what I think when it's on paper, you can cross it out and write comments and I can respond once you've responded to my complete thoughts on a piece of paper.
But God forbid I form a coherent thought when I'm face to face with another intelligent person.
Give me something to think about, and I will think about it. Give me a problem and I will do my best to fix it. But give me a book and expect me to write about it without a question to respond to, and I will summarize.

I need to learn how to ask questions. I need to learn how to speak.

---

This is in response to my rather enjoyable pull question writing experience this evening. I somehow managed to write for 400-500 words on two different books when I couldn't manage to say much of anything in either session and didn't really do much in my notes. The good news: I'm not a complete failure as a Torrey student. The bad news: I can't seem to convey that in any significant setting. I pretty much just get a completion grade for my pull questions.

What do The Beatles and Simple Plan have in common?

2011-10-15T02:22:00.000-07:00

Other than being bands who are on my iPod and made up of males, I'm not sure.
But Genius thinks that Evanescence, Dashboard Confessional, The Ataris, Simple Plan, and even The Beach Boys belong on a playlist based on Hey Jude.

If you can explain why, it'd be much appreciated.

Disclaimer: Unlike most of my playlist posts, this is not a recommendation. At all. Unless you want to be really confused. Then, by all means, listen away.

Post.

2011-10-15T02:15:00.000-07:00

It's that post-concert feeling.
Joy and an utter lack of productivity.
A slight ringing in the ears and lines from every song they played running through my head.
A desire to either listen to everything they've ever recorded or not listen to them until I've forgotten this concert because I don't want to replace the memories of the songs with memories of recordings.
Wanting to share everything with the world but knowing I can't let anyone else live what I just lived because it's such a unique experience.
Wanting to hug everyone because life is good and there is music in the world.

1:15.

2011-10-13T11:31:00.000-07:00

I got out of class at 9:50 today.
I went back to my room, checked my normal internet checky things, and looked over my lesson plan assignment due tonight.
I have just finished, so I'd say that took me about an hour and fifteen minutes. Probably the most enjoyable hour and fifteen minutes I've spent doing schoolwork this semester. It's pretty high ranked, at least.

For the first time, I felt genuinely creative while writing a lesson plan. Writing math lesson plans is not very conducive to creativity, and I usually stick to a pretty standard approach. We've had to use different strategies in our lesson plans, so I've done things out of the norm, but I have yet to think, "Hey, I might actually use that." I write a plan and it is either either normal or unnatural. Not that normal's bad. But it gets kind of mundane when everyone else is writing lesson plans about dinosaurs and planets.
But today, I wrote a lesson plan on the laws of exponents for English Learners, and I feel like I wrote something good. Something that might be really helpful. I was able to write something in my rationale section other than, "Because it's what makes sense for math lessons."

In the last two days, Krista finished Algebra 1, I helped two friends study for a Nature of Math test (one was ready to end her relationship with math before we worked together and told me she liked math after the test), and I wrote this lesson plan. I think God may be responding to this and reminding me of how he has prepared me for this and is continuing to do so. He has blessed me with a wonderful ability for teaching math and paired it with a joy for helping others learn. I don't know how God could have made me any more fit for the place he has put me, and he has decided to remind me of that.

Dear Southern California,

2011-10-12T15:12:00.000-07:00

We've been close for twenty years now. I understand that you do not like to acknowledge the concept of fall. I'll rarely complain about not being able to wear a jacket in October. You know I love the cold, so I complain sometimes, but it's with the knowledge that I can't expect much more from you.

But today, you have disappointed me. It is currently one hundred and three degrees outside. That's hot, even for Southern California summers. It is October Twelfth, and you are being unreasonable. I'd love it if you could take the temperature down fifty degrees or so, but at decrease of at least thirty degrees would be acceptable.

Love,
Robynne

2011-10-10T19:14:00.000-07:00

I want to sit here. On this couch. Listening to his voice, his banjo, her voice, his guitar. Not doing anything to fill the time.
Right now, I do things to fill the time. I have so much to do, so the time must be filled, right? I don't do things that make the rest of my time freer - I just fill it with useless things. But my time is filled, so I feel less guilty.
But wouldn't it be more beneficial to just sit here? To breathe, in and out, and feel those breaths, feel the music that's filling the room.

When I close my eyes, I can see myself. The back of his living room, surrounded by acquaintances, not talking to anyone. Uncomfortable, yes, but then they start to play.
I'm not here to talk to the people standing around me. I'm here for the sounds that fill this room so well. I'm here to sing every word along with them. And I'm here to just be in the music.

I will sing while you drive slow.

I think it's time for a road trip. One where we don't really talk. Windows rolled down, music mixing with the wind, cold air rushing past my face, feet out the window. Or maybe one where there is no we. Just me, music, wind, and God. I think it's time to learn to drive.

Psalm 139

2011-10-06T12:14:00.000-07:00

Five years. So much more than just today, but, Robynne, remember today. Remember those five years, that verse, and today. Because God is with you. More than anyone else.

Fifty-seven.

2011-10-06T10:03:00.000-07:00

It's fifty-seven degrees outside. I can't see a single cloud from my window. And the first thing I thought when I stepped outside this morning was, "It feels like Christmas."

One year, I stopped wishing for a white Christmas. Okay, I definitely kept wishing for a white Christmas, but I more earnestly wished for a wet Christmas. Maybe, just maybe, it would rain on Christmas. But, usually, it felt like today. After the fog cleared, of course, because it doesn't get very foggy here. A completely clear day that made you feel the cold - not because the cold was extreme, but because it's unexpected.

I love days like today. Rainy days are refreshing, and these days are refreshing in a completely different way. They don't make me want to put on my rain boots and have adventures; they make me want to keep going, keep moving, keep feeling the cold that I can't see.

Rain.

2011-10-05T12:16:00.000-07:00

We can talk about the rain washing the world, a clean, fresh start, and the rest of the beauty that comes with rain. I love all of that.

But, more than any of those things, I love the rain because there is nothing that gives me energy like putting on a pair of rain boots and stomping through puddles as the rain drops gather in my hair and on my glasses.
And there's something enchanting about doing homework while your clothes are damp and you're wearing knee-high socks that are just waiting for you to put your boots back on.

There are so many things I don't like about my life right now, but the rain makes me want to fix all of them, right here, right now, rather than just sit and let them overtake me. Thank you for giving me the weather that gives me energy just when I need it, God.

Done.

2011-10-04T01:01:00.000-07:00

I don't know what's going on with me. I'm in a super strange mental, physical, and emotional place right now. It's something that has been building to some extent, but definitely hit me today.

I'd like to be done. I'd like to quit school and spend a year babysitting and tutoring before going off and getting a big girl job. Or maybe I'd like to tutor and babysit for the rest of my life. But I've invested so much time and money into this that I can't just not graduate. And I'll have to invest even more money into it if I don't graduate, seeing as I have grants that are contingent on my position as a teacher in a low income school for five years, and I can't get that job without a credential. Those same grants are making it clear to me that I don't get a break. I don't get to graduate, take a year off to find a job and putz around my parents house or something, and breathe. Especially if I do Teach for America. I graduate, and I'm off. Off to a super challenging, scary place, away from everyone I love.

For the first time ever, money's the thing keeping me from dropping everything - not my love for what I do. I'm not thinking about my classes in Los Angeles - right now, I don't think I'd mind if they never existed. I'm not thinking about the two years of Torrey I'd miss out on - I wouldn't mind being done right now. I'm thinking about the practicalities, and the practicalities have never kept me going.

Somewhere, deep in my mind, I'm resisting this whole post. "That's not true, Robynne. You love what you're doing and what you want to do. You're just struggling right now." Maybe I'm tired. Maybe something's lacking. Maybe life is expensive and complicated and I don't want to grow up. I think, maybe, I might just want to skip ages 20 through 27. I just want to be twenty eight and settled. I want to be raising that family that exists somewhere in my imagination and looks something like the families I've been growing close to this semester. Maybe I want to drop everything because I know that once I graduate, I won't be their tutors or their babysitters anymore and I don't want to let go of that because I love it too much. Maybe I feel like someone's older sister and not just because I help them get through hard things. And maybe I feel like, in some strange way, I'm being parented by their parents. I'm somewhere between the children and the parents, which, I think, is where a twenty-year old should be, but that's not where I am with my own family, and maybe I don't want to leave that behind.

I don't know. I'm tired.

Thoughts of the day

2011-09-26T19:09:00.000-07:00

Elizabeth once said, "If the satisfaction you get when your code finally works outweighs the frustration you feel when you're working on the code, you could do computer science." I'm right on that fine line right now. It feels great to have written code for another successful program, but I don't know if the magnitude is as large as that of the frustration I felt while working on it. It's close, but I don't know if it's there. And now I'm drawing vectors in my head and doing distance formulas even though I don't have any quantitative data about my experience. I'm a nerd.

Speaking of what I've been learning in Calculus, it feels great to have a Monday night not spent doing Calculus homework, but I don't want to go to class tomorrow because I don't want to know how the test actually went.

Speaking of computer science, I used Xcode for the first time today because I finally bought and installed Snow Leopard. So much nicer than Microsoft Visual C++ or whatever it's called. More points for Mac, as if I needed more reasons to love my computer.

Speaking of operating systems and computer science, I have so much respect for developers and anyone who does anything pretty with code. I program a blank screen with some text that reads some data, and it takes me hours. I don't even want to think about the code my computer uses on a regular basis.

I love that I can text one professor's wife while I'm working with another professor's child to ask her for the math homework for the homeschool group her child is also in.

People are frustrating and don't respond when I text or email them. But I love them, so whatevs. I also use too many abbreviations sometimes.

I really like tumblr. I found a great architecture blog today. I love looking at cool architecture. I told someone that tumblr is my means of appreciating beauty on a regular basis, even though I still blog here.

My battery is almost dying, so we're going to end thoughts here.

Anticipation.

2011-09-22T23:48:00.000-07:00

"When you start dating, I'm going to be so happy. I'll to scream louder than anyone."
"Well, except maybe me."
"You won't scream. You'll make that face that you're making and smile bigger and laugh and be really happy."

A (likely very poorly) paraphrased version of a conversation with Bethany today.

For the first time in quite a while, as Bethany said those things, I became okay with waiting longer. Because that day - that day when I find someone who makes me smile like that and push my shoulders up awkwardly and causes my heart to flutter - that day will be worth the wait.

Today I told Bethany that I want to date someone who I could see myself marrying, and it felt real to me. The first man I date will likely be the man I marry, because when I give my heart to someone, I'm giving it to them. I'm at that point. And I know there is some man out there who I may meet this semester, or I may meet in five years, or maybe even ten, and that man is going to make me feel loved and joyful and special and that man is worth waiting for. And maybe, just maybe, I'll make it until I find that man without having another of my ridiculous crushes where I am so ready to give someone my heart even though they shouldn't have it.

I am in hopeful, joyful anticipation right now. I didn't know that was possible for me.

Pictures

2011-09-22T11:51:00.000-07:00

The desktop on my computer displays a random picture from my iPhoto library every minute. I originally set this up as an opportunity to see some of the thousands of pictures I have. There's no reason to have pictures on your computer if you never see them, right? But the thing that started three years ago as a fun way to see some old pictures has become a constant reminder of how much I am blessed.
Just as I've been thinking about writing and writing this blog, I have seen a picture from the Griffith Observatory at sunset, the place I wrote my Torrey paper my first semester, a Ben Folds concert, and out the window of one of the the planes that took me from Los Angeles to London. I live in a place where I get to go with friends and watch the sun set over Los Angeles as the city lights come on. I have not only survived several paper nights, but I've learned so much from them and now I have reminders on paper of the incredible thought projects I get to pursue in Torrey. I have been to a large number of concerts, even since I've been in college. I somehow manage to find the money, the time, and the people to take me and I get to enjoy live music, one of the things I enjoy most. I got to go to England. I got to spend three weeks in a beautiful place with great people and continue in those thought projects that I've been pursuing for two years now.
It's easy to get caught up in the busyness. It's easy to look around this little room and around this little campus and think of all the things I do here on a regular basis, and feel tired. But when I press F5 and all the windows on my screen fly away for a second, I see the faces of people that this place has introduced me to, I see the places I've gone and the things that I've done, and I realize how blessed I really am to be able to do all that I do. It makes me think about how great it is even to be here, in this little room, on this little campus, living the life I live that I don't deserve one bit of. God is so incredibly gracious.

Well, that was fun.

2011-09-22T10:18:00.000-07:00

I just took my first Calculus test since my junior year of high school. I don't remember how I used to do so well on those things. Wait, yes I do. Multi-hour study groups at Sonali's the night before.

Note to self: Study with people. If nothing else, do more practice problems and make some flash cards. Your memorizations skills are kind of lame.

We'll see how I did next week. I'm okay with not doing well, because I'm still trying to figure out how to be a math student. Next time, I'll do better. In the meantime, I'm going to listen to Death Cab for Cutie. You know why? Because I'm seeing them in twenty-two days. Yes.

I was created to make your praise glorious.

2011-09-18T16:19:00.000-07:00

Crazy what a good church service can do for a moody Robynne.

God is faithful. In all I do, glory be to God.

Worlds

2011-09-18T00:03:00.000-07:00

Whenever I feel the need to post "Have you ever been alone in a crowded room?" I stop myself. It's my emo, time to get attention quote.
But tonight I felt it more than I ever have. Alone in a room that was crowded with people I've never felt alone around. Those people who I was so close with last year. Seeing their faces used to make mine light up. But tonight, their smiles just made me want to walk back to my room, cold and alone, and stay that way. We don't know each other like we did. A summer and a few weeks have brought us to what feels like different worlds, and I don't know how to get to the one they're on.
I don't know if it's me and my schedule or if they've grown away from me. I don't know if making the effort to see them is going to help or just hurt more.

I do know that, once again, I've found myself needing to be the initiator. Once again, I wonder how much people care. I wonder how important I am. And I sit in a chair, in the corner, and watch people be best friends without me. I wait for someone to notice that I'm in that chair, in that corner, alone, and decide that it's worth leaving their friends for a moment to see if I'm okay. I've never been the type to sit in a chair, in the corner, alone - at least not around these people.

One person came over. One person talked to me. One person who I barely knew before this summer. That one person made the night that much better. I felt less alone. I felt cared for. But I was on a world with a population of two.

---

Dear blog readers,
I'm sorry I don't write more when I'm happy.

Myself.

2011-09-17T00:59:00.000-07:00

It's really hard to value friendship, then realize that you seem to have lost the ability be a good friend to the people you really love.

I've been thinking and talking about transitions lately... this weird transition I'm experiencing between Sophomore Robynne who was in Ignatius and did lots of Torrey with a touch of math and education, but was mostly just really good at being friends and spending time with people to Junior Robynne who's in Chesterton doing lots of math with a touch of Torrey and sees the same three people all the time.

I've been really unlike myself lately. I'm at least not like the person I was last year, which makes me wonder what it means to be myself. What happens when I'm stressed, without staple groups of people who are always around?

I don't like who I am right now.

Playlist for late-night homework doing.

2011-09-14T19:24:00.000-07:00

It took me a week to post this, but I finally plugged in my iPod to get this playlist onto my computer.

Last Wednesday night, I had my first late night study session in the SUB. Last semester, this would have been a typical Wednesday night, as I had session on Wednesdays and Thursdays. I wasn't staying up late with some old book last Wednesday, though. I was staying up late with a Calculus assignment.

Regardless of the content, every late-night study session needs a good playlist. This playlist fit perfectly for my mood at the time, balancing some energetic songs to keep me going and some mellow songs to make me sit back and appreciate beauty for a few moments.

Plus, City and Colour spells "Colour" with a u, therefore making everything that much better.

Oh, those glasses. [Deux]

2011-09-14T14:14:00.000-07:00

Recall this blog post.

Now look at this shot from last week's episode of Doctor Who.

I was going to say that it's nice having the 10x attractiveness multiplier applied to someone closer to my age, but Matt Smith and Arthur Darvill are only a few months apart - so never mind.

But still.

Hey there, Rory Williams.

Two things:

2011-09-13T20:23:00.001-07:00

1. Apparently, it's "Robynne posts sad things" day.
2. The link to my tumblr in that post the other day was wrong. It's better now.

Sometimes...

2011-09-13T20:17:00.000-07:00

I spend my session break crying in the bathroom.

I've been taken from my wonderful family and put into one that seems like a great family, but isn't mine. I was going to tough it out and soldier on and hope to return to them in the spring. Instead, I fought tears for an hour and a half and succumbed to them in the bathroom. I still have to tough it out, and I will, but I didn't realize it would be this hard.

2011-09-13T13:30:00.000-07:00

I miss sitting in Sutherland, trying to work my way through yet another book, and saying "Hi" to you as you walk up the stairs on your way to the Torrey office. I'm in Sutherland less often this semester, and I have fewer books to work through, but you're never there.

Often, your face shows up on the side of my Facebook page. I'm not sure why, exactly. I think Facebook wants me to miss you. And I do. Every time your face there, on the screen, I think of that time you came up the stairs and commented on something I had just posted on Facebook.

And I wish that I had met with you more often. Maybe talked about life once or twice.

And I want to sit in a room full of people and sing Back at One as we talk about what makes good writing.

The new guy seems good. I think I might like him. But I can't replace people. That's not how this works.

sometimes i tumble.

2011-09-11T14:55:00.000-07:00

i do so here.

I mostly just reblog things. Sometimes I post quotes. It's almost entirely a collection of things I like rather than things I create. But hey, that's tumblr, right?

I'm still primarily here. I just wanted to let you know that exists.

Working out is wonderful.

2011-09-06T22:15:00.000-07:00

So are couches and air conditioning after working out, especially when it is 83 degrees outside.

I have a roommate who actually schedules workouts with me. This is going to be a good semester.

I'm back into this blogging thing, apparently. I hope you don't mind.

Also, I wore my new purple flats today. I love my shiny, bright purple flats. I also love that they match my nails that my roommate painted for me.

It begins.

2011-09-06T01:12:00.000-07:00

After an evening of reading and working on Calculus, I decide it's time to do some grading.
At 12:20 AM, I make a Genius playlist based on "Sleeping In" by The Postal Service, knowing full well that I will be awake at least until 1:00 AM and up around 7:00 AM.
I toss my folder to the floor and find my red pen, then lay flat on the ground. Answer key, stack of homework papers, grade sheet.
Half an hour later, I am almost halfway done, but my roommates are trying to sleep and can't keep the light on anymore. I'm starting to get sleepy, too. Maybe I'll do the rest tomorrow in the midst of Wesley notes, TA hours, tutoring, classes, and homework for Wednesday.

I think this is going to be my life. Keeping roommates (or husband, depending on the phase of life) awake as I grade papers on the floor while listening to music that supports my delusions of actually sleeping.

Just in case you forgot,

2011-09-06T00:14:00.001-07:00

I write things over here. So do other wonderful people.

Reason #9652 Why I Love College

2011-09-05T13:27:00.000-07:00

I'm attempting to braid my hair. My roommate is cleaning up some stuff by her desk. We both happen to look out the window.
"Um, what's he doing?"
She responds with a curious tone: "I don't know."
"Is he... Is he going to slide down the hill on a cardboard box?"
"I think so."
"He is!"
"I kind of want to cheer him on."
"Do it."
"Only if you do it with me."
"Well, what are we going to say?"
"Just cheer."
He begins to slide down the hill and we cheer. He and his friend at the bottom of the hill look up; we wave.
His friend takes the cardboard and climbs up the hill. Maci and I continue to do things around the room, and I return to the window as he reaches the top, points, and says, "This one's for you."

The next several minutes consisted of the two of them alternating sliding down the hill with varying degrees of success as we held up signs with scores - until they ran away, presumably afraid of Campus Safety.

First.

2011-09-01T11:35:00.000-07:00

I'm the youngest of four children. This means I'm always the fourth one to do something. The fourth one to start each stage of school. The fourth one to finish each stage of school. The fourth one to turn 5, 10, 16, 18. Soon I'll be the fourth one to finish a second decade of life.

I was only really the third one to start college, the second one to start college because I actually wanted to further my education, and the first one to move off to a university. But that wasn't that big of a deal for me. I've always been a step above my siblings when it comes to the academic milestones; it's just part of my nature that my siblings don't share with me. But I'm half way to doing something big, something important, something no one else has ever done: graduating college with a bachelor's degree. Maybe that's why I feel like I'm not supposed to be doing this. In some sense, when I graduate, I'll be more grown up than my siblings - at least in the way I always imagined "grown up." For someone whose life dream has always been to go to college and who charts her life based on her education, graduating college was it. Once you graduated college, you were there: a real, complete adult.

I understand that's not 100% accurate. There are many other ways to measure "growing up" and I am not saying I will be more of an adult than my sister in two years. But the part of my brain that sees education-based time lines has placed my siblings in this limbo between high school and a degree, and there's me, right on the end of that line, a few steps away from stepping over the edge. I have no idea what's past that edge, at least not for a member of my family. No one in my family has ever been a "professional" in the strictest sense. And I'm about to be. This scary anticipation makes so much more sense to me now.

Just to get it out of the way.

2011-08-30T01:04:00.000-07:00

I'm 90% sure I'm taking on too much this semester.

Tutoring 3 hours a week for one family.

Tutoring 1.5 hours a week for another family.

Being a TA for Nature of Math.

Torrey Lecture Coordinator.

Babysitting every so often.

Three math classes, two which require decently sized papers.

Intro to Computer Science, which is completely foreign to me.

Four units of Torrey, which will be more like half of a twelve unit semester. Longer paper, leading sessions, new group, and being expected to continue to improve.

Trying to find a way to work through this Calculus II class (that I don't count in the three math classes) while surviving in Calculus III.

But I honestly don't think I'd give up a single one of those things, with the exception of the Calculus chaos. But that's an alliteration, so I'm pretty pleased with it. (See what I did there? An alliteration about an alliteration. Teehee.)

This semester might kill me, but I think it's going to be an enjoyable death. And I have some amazing professors and peers who are going to make it even better.

Dear _____, [Continued]

2011-08-29T15:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Dr. Spears,

Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for giving me pep talks when I don't realize that I need pep talks. Thanks for letting me teach your kids when you know how important education is. Thanks for calling me a nerd and asking me what I need from you and understanding my desire to take on four jobs while doing so much else. You've encouraged me from the start, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't still be saying these things just to try to get me to live up to them. I still don't understand where you see it, but you seem to know what you're talking about, so I think I might decide to really believe you this time around.

Sincerely, Robynne

=====

Dear friend,

I'm going to miss you.

Love, Robynne

2011-08-28T23:35:00.000-07:00

My heart hurts.

Loneliness, selfishness, and some combination of worry and more selfishness.

I want your attention.

I want them to be gone or I want to have the same relationship with them as I have with you.

I want you to be able to stay.

Yet again, I have the issue of knowing one thing and feeling the other. Heart, please listen to my head.

Then today would have just been a good day.

Dear _____,

2011-08-25T20:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Biola math professors,

In two days, you have taken me from dreading this semester of math intensity to looking forward to it, though I'm still kind of afraid for my survival.

With thanks, Robynne

------

Dear freshmen,

Thank you for supporting my overwhelming need to get to know new people. You seem pretty great, and you're doing a wonderful job of loving someone you barely know.

Yours, Robynne

------

Dear former freshmen who are now sophomores,

I love seeing how much you've grown. Thanks for letting me be a bit of a creeper and a bit of a mother even though I'm really better prepared to just be a friend. I love to see you carrying on traditions and being to your freshmen what I was so blessed to be to you, though probably a slightly more sane version.

Love, Robynne

------

Dear old friends,

I forgot how great hour long meals where we talk about anything can be. You are such a blessing to me. I am frequently set aback by how much you care for me and how undeserving I am of that. I don't usually understand why you seem just as excited to see me as I am to see you, and our relationships are the perfect combination of humbling and encouraging. It's also pretty great to never go wanting in the hug department for very long.

Love fits this one pretty perfectly too... Love, Robynne

------

Dear Torrey tutors and office staff,

Thanks for interacting with me as I lurk around Sutherland all day. You bring such joy to my heart, even when you just say hi in passing, because I'm reminded of how blessed I am to have known you for (one or) two years and still have two years left with you. There are moments when I take this all for granted, but when I really think about it, I remember how great and rare it is to be a part of something like this.

Gratefully, Robynne

2011-08-17T22:32:00.001-07:00

I want to dance with someone. All night, I have wanted to dance with someone. Let's dance.

Home.

2011-08-16T23:33:00.000-07:00

The smell of Hope.

"ROBYNNE!" accompanied with lots of hugs.

"Goodnight, Robynne." "Goodnight, Maci."

An electric kettle, Theraflu, Wallace, Shakespeare, my blankets, and my monster sheets.

"I'm on Fourth North for the third year."

Lectures by people I know and love saying things I still need to hear.

Breakdowns and prayer sessions in the SUB.

Reading sessions turned talking sessions.

Stealing comfy pillows.

Gathering with Ignauts at Berry Cool.

Walking around campus at night with women I adore.

Post-game night seer craziness.

"Robynne, you created this."

Perfect for tonight.

2011-08-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

As you can tell, I'm not even halfway through this playlist, but I haven't loved a playlist this much in a long time. Perfect for my kind of tired but not ready to sleep yet even though I've been exhausted all day mood. Listen to this stuff. It's good.

A recipe for a perfect walk.

2011-07-31T21:43:00.000-07:00

Joe Purdy's "Only Four Seasons." All the way through. Plus a song or two.

Little, puffy, cotton ball clouds that are quite a bit too blue mixed with a wonderful pink. Ones that look like two-tone cotton candy balls.

Sunset.

Popping in at a friends' house to deliver something from England while the sun finishes setting.

Watching the stars begin to shine through the spaces between cotton candy balls.

Tonight, for what I believe was the first time, I cried at a sunset.

Tonight, I realized that sunset from an airplane doesn't hold a candle to sunset from the streets you've walked since you learned to walk.

England, I love you, but tonight, for the first time since I got back, I really believed that I belong in this place. There is a reason why the view from the top of the Union Rescue Mission is still the wallpaper on my phone.

The rest is silence.

2011-07-25T10:34:00.000-07:00

This place is so quiet. A few birds, an obnoxious dog, and about one fourth of the cars that were on Lensfield road.

I miss my really terrible alarm sound on my UK phone.

I miss footsteps and the sound of doors opening and closing outside my door.

I miss the traffic of Lensfield road.

I miss hearing, "Good morning, Robynne," as I walked past the open kitchen door between my room and the bathroom.

I miss the sound of the kettle and Spode's voice as she sang and made tea.

I miss the different sounds my three different pairs of shoes made as I walked down the stairs.

I miss the strange sounds that the fire door outside Spode and Hava's rooms would make as it closed.

I miss the crunch of the gravel beneath my feet as I walked to class in the morning.

I miss the sounds the English birds made.

I miss the creak of the door to the R staircase.

I miss the growing sound of students' voices as we gathered outside the door.

I miss the sounds of British children playing in the churchyard outside my window upon returning to my room after session.

I miss Zak's Christian metal coming from his room or the kitchen.

I miss the sound of opening and closing cupboards that told me someone was next door.

I miss bike bells.

I miss the bells at Our Lady and the English Martyrs.

I miss the sound of people. I miss the sounds of Cambridge.

2011-07-20T17:10:00.000-07:00

I miss my bestie.

She's in a hospital room, recuperating from surgery after severing a tendon in her leg.

I'm in England, five thousand miles away.

I can't visit her. I can't even text her. I just have to wait for us to be online at the same time.

Dear British Boy on the Train,

2011-07-13T12:57:00.000-07:00

You caught my attention with your Rubik's cube. +100 points.

I wasn't sure if you were actually British. There are a lot of tourists here and you had a giant suitcase. But, hey, you were still attractive, and conveniently in one of the rear facing seats. So I may have awkwardly watched you for the whole train ride, while trying to play it off like I wasn't. I almost took a creeper picture of you, but I couldn't risk you seeing me.

I kept watching you, trying to pick up clues. The England shirt could have meant that you were a tourist or you like your country. I hoped for the latter, but my friends thought the former. I watched as you did a few things that made me think you were British, but I couldn't be sure. And then you picked up the phone, and I heard your wonderful voice.

I have found my British boy. Too bad we both got off the train and I'll probably never see you again.

On riding a bike in England.

2011-07-11T09:50:00.001-07:00

When you are riding in groups, the leader should turn around and take a head count occasionally. Or at least give directions to the people in the back who have only been riding a bike for a year. Less, actually.

England roads are bumpy. Rental bikes have seats that are much less comfy than my cruiser.

I ride my bike with my mouth open. Thirst.

Bikes are a lot more stable than I give them credit for. I'm much more cautious than I need to be.

It's to much nicer to ride to a grocery store, fill a backpack with groceries, and ride back than to walk to a grocery store and carry said groceries home.

Church.

2011-07-10T13:28:00.000-07:00

I believe in God the Father almighty,

maker of heaven and earth:

and in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord,

who was conceived by the Holy Ghost,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, dead, and buried;

he descended into hell;

the third day he rose again from the dead,

he ascended into heaven,

and sitteth on the right hand

of God the Father almighty;

from thence he shall come

to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Ghost,

the holy catholic Church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and the life everlasting.

Amen.

This afternoon, I joined the countless Christians who have said those words in Saint Paul's Cathedral in London. I love creeds for the very reason that they unify believers throughout time and space, and saying The Apostle's Creed today was a prime example of that. 5,463 miles from my home, in a building from the 17th century, my voice resounded throughout the room. Not just my voice, though. The voice of those who were standing in that room with me mixed together, forming a representation of a small section of the Church. Those same words have been formed by countless others, causing similar sound waves to bounce off those very walls. That fact is astounding to me. The holy catholic Church.

Today has been:

2011-07-09T15:17:00.000-07:00

waking up at 11:10. Glorious.
Nutella and toast while Zak listens to hardcore in the kitchen.
Showering, talking, reading.
The Fitwilliam Museum. Lots of beautiful, old things, just down the street, for free. More visits to come. Sadly, no photography.
Reading for a bit.
Grocery shopping. 30 pence for digestives and caving in to the temptation for Dr. Pepper.
Ridgeon's Big Weekend at Parker's Piece. 50 pence each for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Wuthering Heights, and George Michael's Faith LP. Dancing to a British ukulele cover band. Overall wonderfulness.
Planning a trip to London for tomorrow with three lovely girls. Lots of planning. Tomorrow will be wonderful.
Talking/reading/writing with Spode in my room.

Alarm.

2011-07-08T10:15:00.000-07:00

It's been two nights in a row now. Read read read read read. Until 4:30 AM.

Last night, I propped open my door and pulled out my trundle bed's extra mattress. People pop in, I invite them to join. Everyone in my house was in my room at one point or another last night, reading. You don't want to read when you could be exploring England, so you read when you could be sleeping. There's enough tea floating around to keep everyone caffeinated.

I crawled into bed around 4:30 this morning. I still had eight pages remaining, but I wasn't keeping my eyes open. I would wake up a little early and read it in later this morning. Alarm set: 7:15. Next thing I notice, my phone is going off. I reach over, look at the screen, and press the end button. Then I stop. "Wait, that said Elizabeth." It's 10:00. Our meeting time was 9:00, and we were going to head over to the church at 10:00. Elizabeth calls back as I'm calling her and tells me that they are walking out the gate. I put on some pants and flip-flops, grab my Kindle, and head out the door as she is telling me where they are going. It's raining outside, but there is no time for rain boots.

I walk faster than I've walked this whole trip, taking off my flip-flops because they're slipping on the sidewalk and I don't have time to be careful. I am now the crazy barefoot American girl booking it down the street in a man's pajama shirt. I take a left turn after St. Andrew's, thinking that's what Elizabeth told me to do, then question myself. I check my phone and see a text message that says something about going straight after St. Andrew's. I turn around, then turn onto the street I think I was just on. But it's not storefronts, so I call Elizabeth. She doesn't know where I am, so she gives the phone to Dr. Spears. I try to explain where I am, and he tells me to head back to where I came from while he goes out to the street. I'm not seeing anything he's telling me to look for until I see things that I know are close to where I started. I turn around and head back where I came from until I see him waiting on a corner. The street I was on forked into two streets and I had managed to turn onto the wrong street when I came back from the wrong first turn. I put my shoes back on and we walk into the church.

Everything was fine - they had been waiting for someone else and other people had overslept, but I now knew what Katie meant when she told me that anything bad that happens in England is still good, because you have a story to tell when you get back.

Shakespeare's Globe

2011-07-08T08:48:00.000-07:00

I feel like Shakespeare's Globe should get its own post, but I have no words. So I will leave you with this.

Not California.

2011-07-08T08:32:00.000-07:00

I have no mental framework for somewhere I am that is not California. I walk from place to place, see that it is obviously a city, and make it fit in my framework for Los Angeles or San Francisco. This place is older, but it kind of works. I've heard British accents while walking around California before.

We walk out into the square and my professors give us time to return. "If you walk out that way, there's some really cool stuff and you can just walk straight back. You can't get lost." Okay, we'll go that way. We get to the crosswalk, press the button, and I look up. I lose the ability to breathe for a split second. I grab Elizabeth and point to the tower between the rows of buildings. "Look! Look!" We both gasp. Big Ben. It's there. In the slight distance, but right in front of us. Yes, I just made it painfully obvious that I am an American who is in London for the first time, and, yes, that man waiting for the light to change chuckled a bit. But it's there. A part of England that I could never place in California. I've seen it in pictures too many times. I am not in California anymore. I am standing in London, looking at the clock tower that Peter Pan flies in front of. We continue down the street. More beautiful buildings. Standing at the base of Big Ben. Crossing the Thames. The London Eye.

I'm not in California anymore.

Coins.

2011-07-08T08:24:00.000-07:00

I try to stick with paper. This piece clearly states that it is worth 20 pounds, and I will hand it to you. But you give me all these coins. I don't know what they're worth. The thick ones are a single pound. It took me about a day, but I got that one. The pennies are just like ours with different pictures, but who uses pennies? As I stand in another line, I carefully examine my coins, trying to match shape, color, and value, but when she gives me my total, I have forgotten it all. "Um, here, I think. That might be right." "It's 60 pence." "Oh, that wasn't a 50 pence? Sorry. Hold on." I fumble with my wallet, trying to find something that will work. I'm much less accurate than I'd like, but I give her more than it costs. She knows. She can give me the proper change.

I am obviously an American. I will go home, spread my coins out across my desk, and try, yet again, to remember what they are worth.

So far.

2011-07-08T07:52:00.000-07:00

I don't even know how to write a blog about this trip. I can capture moments, but I can't summarize this trip. I've seen so much, learned so much, walked so much, had so much tea. Every time I start to write, there aren't words. It was just... just... it. I want to pick people up and bring them here and show them. Moments of breathlessness. Moments of sheer joy. The history of this place. To think of who may have even stayed in this very room at some point blows my mind. I've walked streets that Lewis, Newton, Wilberforce, Crick, Shakespeare, and so many others would have walked. I wonder what they were thinking. I wonder about those who live here. These grand buildings and the history that has happened here - do they notice? Would I notice after a few more days. It all feels surreal, and I can't give an adequate description of any of it. To get a big picture idea of what I've done, there are already almost 400 pictures on Facebook that catalogue the last seven days, from Santa Maria to here and now. Otherwise, I think I may pick a few anecdotes to catalogue in future posts. I am now freeing myself of the obligation to catalogue my activities here.