Intermission

So I missed June and a lot of July. Ugh, I'm bad at this.

BUT I am not really to blame. In Chicago for the summer, and my apartment doesn't give me internet access (darn wireless router says limited or no connectivity?!?!) So, it's been a lesson in patience (pretty pathetic how hooked to the web I am.)

Anyway, I will update very, very soon.

Chicago

One of my favorite songs. Seems so much more relevant now. (I'm living there this summer.)

~

I fell in love again
all things go, all things go
drove to Chicago
all things know, all things know
we sold our clothes to the state
I don't mind, I don't mind
I made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind

you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go

I drove to New York
in the van, with my friend
we slept in parking lots
I don't mind, I don't mind
I was in love with the place
in my mind, in my mind
I made a lot of mistakes
in my mind, in my mind

you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go

if I was crying
in the van, with my friend
it was for freedom
from myself and from the land
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes
I made a lot of mistakes

you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
all things know, all things know
you had to find it
all things go, all things go

you came to take us
all things go, all things go
to recreate us
all things grow, all things grow
we had our mindset
(I made a lot of mistakes)
all things know, all things know
(I made a lot of mistakes)
you had to find it
(I made a lot of mistakes)
all things go, all things go
(I made a lot of mistakes)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDRrqcZbdPU

Guacamole

I really wanted to make some guacamole.

I don't know if I can rightfully explain it to you. There was a time when I really, really hated guacamole. Might have been the color - puke green - or it could have been the texture - thick and slimy, with chunks. Either way, I didn't eat the stuff until recently.

Thankfully, food preferences have a tendency to change with age. For instance, there was a time that I didn't eat mustard. Now I have honey mustard on nearly every sandwich I eat. I also used to hate tomatoes. I'm weening myself on them now, trying them out on sandwiches too. Feel like I'm finally becoming an adult. Though God help me I will never ever care for mushrooms.

As my culinary willingness has matured, guacamole has become more and more attractive to me. I've gotten over the color and texture - well, mostly - and realized that the stuff makes a fine dip. Turns out it's a pretty good spread too; trust me, try it on a turkey sandwich. And it works wonders with Mexican food, what it was originally intended to complement.

At some point I simply fell in love with guacamole.

But eating it was not enough; I knew I could also create it. I've only recently learned how to cook, and I'm enough of a rookie not to tackle anything too complicated. Guac presented to me a chance to make something simple of my own that couldn't be too easily screwed up. So I excitedly made plans to conduct my first guacamole preparation; Katie's roommate Lauren lent us her recipe, and we made the trek to Kroger - and, sigh, Wal Mart, when Kroger didn't have the seasoning mix - to pick up ingredients.

~

Mush up two avocados in a bowl. Stir in a fourth of a cup of sour cream. Add the seasoning pack. Zest a lime - shave it, essentially - and then juice it into the bowl. Mix. Guacamole.

Serve with chips. Or a turkey sandwich. Or some Mexican food.

~

At some point in the course of my guacamole night, my friend Taylor called me up to see what I was doing.

"I'm making guacamole," I said.

"Why?" he said.

"Because I can."

People didn't really understand why I was so excited to make my guacamole. And like I said, I'm not sure I can rightfully explain it all to you. But I can try.

Anybody can grill a chicken breast. Anybody can toss a salad. Anybody can throw frozen cookie dough on a tray and stick it in the oven.

Heck, anybody can make guacamole. The thing is, you have to create guacamole. It is the sum of its parts. I did not just add water; I mushed the avocados, I stirred in the sour cream, I zested and juiced the lime.

I was its creator.

And this, this is why I was so excited to make my guacamole - because I got to create something.
And I was proud of my work, too. Even though it was puke green and thick and slimy, it was really delicious.

Though next time, I might add tomatoes.

(This is not my guacamole. But it is a lovely picture of guacamole.)

Light

This picture has been the background of my computer for a couple of years now.


It was taken on North Manitou Island in Lake Michigan on a backpacking trip I went on. I'm the silhouette in the middle.

On my background, under this picture, it says:

GRACE: "I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness." John 12:46

Sometimes it's tough to fight your way out of the darkness. But the light is there. It will always be there.

Hooked

Ever have those times in life where you get completely addicted to something? You know, where every day you wake up looking forward to partaking in that one thing? I'm not talking about life-controlling sin-like stuff - surely all of us have those downfalls. I'm talking about the silly, meaningless stuff that God probably just laughs at us about (as in it doesn't dictate our life, it's just a colorful quirk.)

This one time, freshmen year, I had to have at least one bowl of fruity pebbles every night. Swear to you.

Another time, I had to watch an episode of 'Futurama' every day at lunchtime. Seriously.

Recently I picked up doing crosswords. I don't really know how it came about; Katie and I got a book of them for spring break, and I never looked back. I do at least one every day; I am literally, at this moment, itching to get a hold of today's Post so I can do the crossword. Kind of pathetic.

But it gets worse. At work, we have a stack of old Posts from the last quarter or two that we save. I kid you not, I've taken to digging back in the archives for old crosswords, so long as I've completely spent the current day's edition.

I do them at work, I do them in class; I've even been finding corners of baker to hide in between classes to sit and enjoy my crossword.

We are creatures of habit.

I just can't figure out why I don't habitualize myself to more beneficial activities.

What they don't tell you...

This is an essay I wrote for my creative writing class. Hope you like it.

~

What they don’t tell you about attending college in the same town you grew up in is how painfully set apart you feel, no matter what outsiders might tell you. You will always feel different than them; that empty feeling of regret in the pit of your stomach reminds you every day.

Growing up, your backyard is littered with foreigners – folks from the cities, folks from out-of-state, folks from other countries. They’re all after the same thing, a plaque on their wall and a line on their resume. You get to know many of them, through church, through friends, through school, but most are gone in four years, maybe five. Relationships are recycled, new faces applied to the skeletons of old.

Your parents were foreigners once too – Dad from Cleveland, Mom from Detroit. The Appalachian university sucked them in like it sucked in the others, but refused to let them go, even after 30 years. They are not Appalachia and they did not raise you to be Appalachia. But they sent you to school with Appalachia and 21 years in Appalachia will make at least a small part of you Appalachia.

You become divided. Part of you begs to relate more with your poverty-stricken farm-friendly deer-killing high school peers. The other part, the part you eventually allow your college friends, feigns innocence to the local culture. Either way you feel judged when you move in with the foreigners. They have a name for you: townie.

What they don’t tell you about attending college in the same town you grew up in is how difficult it is to leave. Dad’s job gives you free tuition – end of story. Two of your sisters went to private college and your parents deserve a favor. Besides, they say, the field you’re interested in has a great program there. Top five in the country, they say.

You knew your whole life you would end up there anyway so you don’t put up a fight. The small percentage of your high school peers that moved on to college figured the same.

What they don’t tell you about attending college in the same town you grew up in is how incredibly bored you become with your supposedly wonderful surroundings. Such a beautiful campus, they tell you. Such a unique culture, they say. But when day after endless day is spent in this environment and your 21-year history knows nothing but, its value fails to impress. The lush greenery has always been there. The historic red brick is just a building. And your older sister made sure the whole “streets flowing with booze and debauchery” thing was old by sophomore year of high school.

What they don’t tell you about attending college in the same town you grew up in is how much you want to be like everyone else. You want to be experiencing a new town, a new surrounding. You want to have taken some chances. You want to see to the world. But so far your world consists of one town.

What they don’t tell you about attending college in the same town you grew up in is that all you ever wanted is to see the beauty everyone else got to see. Because no matter how much you complain, you still love it as home.

Define pt. 4

Embrace your identity. Take advantage of the gifts God has given you - he gave them to you for a reason.

Never regret your past, because your past made you who you are. To regret your past is to suggest you do not like what you've become.

And remember, though you may envy what others have, there will always be someone who envies what you have.