If a picture is worth a thousand words

I know I already posted a blog today. But one of the only things I've done today is read. This break will be one filled with crossing off titles on my "Must Read" list. So far so good.

I have absolutely LOVED reading this book Choosing to See by Mary Beth Chapman. Steven Curtis Chapman's wife. One of the best parts of it, is seeing Mary Beth quote her husband's lyrics all the time. She tells a story about something that happened in her life--their life-- and then the next page has the lyrics of a song that her husband wrote and recorded. Many of them I even know. It's just hilarious to me, and absolutely fantastic as a song writer myself, so hear the stories behind them.

I told my sister in the car Saturday, that being a songwriter has got to be one of thee best jobs. It's the kind of job that no matter what happens to you in your life, it can only enhance your occupation. Think about it... if you're going through a hard time, you only have more inspiration. If you're happy... that song will be like the budding of spring. If you're angry... isn't it better to sing a song about it than to punch someone in the face?

See what I mean? Songwriting is just fantastic. It's what I do, and I cannot wait for the next chapter of my life to unfold in song.

I can tell you a story about most every line I've ever written.

I also confided in my mother something I've been thinking of lately. Now I'm going to tell you. I need to marry a songwriter. I figured, this way, we would never be able to keep secrets from each other. I wouldn't believe you for a second if you were a songwriter -- a chronic songwriter like myself-- and told me you don't like to show someone, at least ONE person a new song for affirmation once you wrote it. I often don't have a solid opinion of a song until after I show at least my brother.

When I say "This song isn't about anyone in particular, it's more about the concept." I'm not lying... but it's maybe more the truth to say "The first line is about this person... the fourth line is about someone entirely different... the whole chorus came after I thought about this dude... and the bridge was about my sister."

In the end, I just admitted to thinking about a whole lot. A whole lot more than just "a concept." I could wave it off and say I wasn't thinking about something, when the lyrics music and melody testify solid facts proclaiming the opposite.

So I figured it'd be a great thing to marry a songwriter. Because when he shows me his new song, and tries to say "I wasn't really mad about that..." I'll have already heard what he means to say but didn't.

I like to think (my song I Like to Think So really is hilarious... because every word is completely my own and I say the same words all the time in everyday conversation) that my household will be full of songs when I'm married and have my own life going. My brother (Zach) and sisters (Caleigh and Soph) and I already sing our own songs at appropriate times, when they fit the situation.

I LOVE hearing Cal sing, "Oh oh oh oh oh oh, that's the boat I'm in," instead of saying "Me too."

So that's all I have to say. I love reading about songwriters, and I'm probably going to marry one. If I don't, then I need to come up with ways to interrogate.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, I can't imagine how many a song is worth.

Crammed too many books on my shelf

I've been blogging kinda of frequently in the last week. And yeah... it probably has to do with the fact that I haven't written a song for 9 days. Lyrics have been building up, and I've probably written a line or two a day, but music and melody are still on back order.

I've been reading a ton since I've been home. I'm on my 3rd book since walking through the doors of Williamsville.

I've been reading a number of biographies lately. I love books. Living with Trina in Greenville has only affirmed my obsession with reading and acquiring as much knowledge and wisdom as I can from the turning of hundreds of pages. I love knowing things. I love learning things. I love sharing things myself. And through that love of mine, I have such a respect for learning the things authors choose to share in their own books and stories.

Trina and I have bought so many books since the Fall. Our book shelves are completely full. I even wrote a line dedicated to our hilarious obsession in a song called My Side that I wrote in November. "Crammed too many books on my shelf." It is a negative line in light of the subject matter of the song, but it was meant to give a laugh to Trina. It did. So I was satisfied.

I believe I've said before, I learn so much more in sermons when pastors tell stories. Nothing encourages me more. Nothing grabs my attention more. I remember hearing stories that inspired me years and years ago. I still remember. They grab me, and hold on to me.

I remember hearing this woman, named Donna, speak at a YWAM thing while I was on a Missons trip in Louisiana. I was 15. I was absolutely under a spell every time she spoke. I heard every word. I don't think I missed one. I told her afterwards on one of the final days. She wasn't even a speaker for the week... she simply helped run things with her husband Mark. They were maybe middle age, or close to it. Her stories of God's faithfulness in her life just shook the very core of me. And I remember knowing God had revealed something to me through her. That someday I would be speaking. And someday people would be in the same seat I was in, as I was listening to her. But in stead of listening to Donna tell her stories, I'd be telling mine.

In some ways, that was hard to even type. I've always been terrified that I'd give people the wrong impression of me. That I'd give off an air that proclaims "I think I am all that."

In the past few years though, slowly I've shed that fear. Little by little. But it still grips me sometimes. Because I don't ever want to be that person. And being confidant... there is such a fine line between confidence and living a life full of pride.

But last month, I stepped on stage at Vespers. My Vespers team was about to lead worship. Once we finished, I walked towards the center of the stage. A mic tied behind my ear, my Bible and a bottle of water in my hands. And I spoke that night.

I've felt a stir in my heart. Nearly five years ago I had been inspired by Donna. I knew I'd be telling stories one day, and many days after that. I didn't know how or when it'd come. But I know today, as I'm now 20 years old, that promise is on the road to fruition. I don't know how, or when the next time will be. But I know that God had shown me a part of the future He has for me.

I told Donna what I had felt God speak to me that week in Louisiana. She listened to me intently, and though I was a skinny shrimp-like 15-year old, the look in her eye was so serious. Like what I was saying was as important as I felt her words were. It emboldened me. And she prayed over me, and that was that. I've never seen her since. But I've thought about her.

What I've realized is that reading other people's stories is so powerful. Reading this book, Choosing to See by Mary Beth Chapman (Go figure it's form Trina!:), has encouraged me so much. I feel like going out and buying every Christian biography there is. Because it lends so much perspective. When you read a book, you see the struggle, and then the outcome. The failing, and then the promise. The heartbreak, and then the healing. It's all only pages away. but in life, it could be years away. It's in slow motion, even though it seems like life just goes way too fast sometimes.

Read this book. I'm so serious... it's amazing. It's so encouraging. It's so real life. I love when people are real. I love when they're broken and honest enough to say it. Agh we're all idiots with broken hearts. But that was never a good enough reason to remain in the shadows of trees and leaves. We're all living stories of God's redeeming love and hope. Your story is important and speaks volumes. As the Body of Christ we all desperately need each other.

And no story is fully complete... Telling your story may be part of your story. Even if it feels incomplete. I suppose my blog is somewhat like telling my story. Even though it's in pieces.

But for real. Read that book.

Glazed

Last night my family went to see the new Narnia movie. It was fabulous. We grew up listening to my dad read the Narnia books to us before we went to bed. It's been exciting seeing the movies as a family. Last night we went to see Voyage of the Dawn Treader, all ten of us, in 3D.

We walked into the darkened theater, passing the box in which we'd toss our 3D glasses after the movie. As soon as the previews started, we realized it was already time to get on with stylin' the fancy glasses. After a moment of considering the fact that every single person in the theater already had the glasses on, I didn't feel to silly putting them on myself.

I'll admit, they weren't the easiest thing in the world on the stomach. Zach, sitting to my left had to take his off for a few minutes to close his eyes. I won't lie to you... the guy's got the softest stomach this side Wisconsin. Why I chose Wisconsin for this argument? I heard someone say Wisconsin in church today. It's kind of fun to say. So there, I said it.

There was a moment during the movie I decided to take my glasses off myself. It kind of hurt my head to see the 3D stuff. I'm proud to say my stomach was just fine. But my head hurt. My eyes felt strained. But I kept my eyes open, and attempted watching without the glasses.

But then I realized I couldn't even really see once I took them off. I couldn't see the screen clearly. It was rather blurry.

I decided it would probably do me the most good to just continue to wear the 3D glasses. It would have hurt even more to keep them off.

Last night when we got home, I sat down on Caleigh's bed... time and time again I realize I don't live in my own house anymore... I pulled out my Bible and read a bit, and pulled a pillow to my lap, and started writing in a journal. Writing my prayers out is one of the only ways I can keep focused when I spend time with God.

I pondered a few things... how desperately I needed God to change my heart on some things. You know the times I'm talking about... when you know perfectly well your heart is not in the right place. You know you're viewing someone with a glaze of disrespect, or judgment. Like the lenses we wear are coated with it.

Have you ever wondered how God does it? How He can look at us, through lenses coated with love, rather than disdain, disapproval and hate? Heck, it's not even like He sees through "lenses" as much as He simply sees through His eyes.

How I wish I could see through His eyes. How I wish my eyes were as clean as His.

I want to see through lenses of love. Lenses of mercy, and grace... joy, hope... I want to see that way.

Maybe I was still thinking about the 3D glasses or something when I considered all of this. It was quite a satisfying moment to toss the glasses in the recycling box when we walked out.

In the same way, seeing through lenses of love though, isn't always easy on the stomach... or the eyes. Or the head. Or the heart.

I think in fact, we might opt to simply remove the glasses, and close our eyes. It's better than the strain that comes along with viewing our surroundings through the glazed glass. It's not natural. It's confusing. It hurts.

When I took my glasses off last night, all the lines were blurry. I could figure out enough, but nothing was clear. Just a blur.

When I put them back on, it was relieving to be able to see clearly, even though the 3D-ness of it all was sometimes quite literally in my face, and less than comfortable for my eyes and head.

Isn't the love of God that way? To see through lenses of love... to see the things and people around us with a glaze of love on the glass in front of our eyes.

Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it makes us feel sick. It's not natural. But when we remove them... everything gets blurry. And in the end we might end up even more sick than we would have been had we left the glasses on.

That's what I want... I want to see through Love, even if it hurts, and feels wrong, and makes the back of my head hurt. I want to see through them even though I might look silly in thick black frames that don't sit well on my nose, and leave marks between my eyes.

And so, the end of the story is this- the movie was great. I loved it. And I want to reread all of the books again. That said, I'm going to go on and enjoy this snowy afternoon with another book, and maybe a cup of tea.

Got milk?

Merry Christmas!

Ahh... there is no holiday like Christmas. I feel oddly aloof this year. I suppose this is just a time in my life where it literally feels like the whole world is staring at me, and waiting for my next move... I'm about to enter the New Year. The year that practically has me wearing a blindfold. I only know that one thing will happen: I'll graduate. I'll graduate from college. The number 20 is still a little flimsy, like the halo on the angel that keeps falling off. I've seen that ornament a few times this year. If you don't know what I'm talking about, nevermind.

So, I just turned 20. No more teens. I'm quite alright with that. But with that comes a future I didn't meet head on yet. I noticed something tonight... as a very reflective person, Christmas and the New Year literally bombard me with realizations. I'm practically on my knees under the load that hits me every year. The whole year unfolds like a Giant Red Carpet, expecting me to understand every lesson I've learned, every answer I asked for and didn't ask for... and then expecting me to walk down it calmly into the new year. 2011. Have mercy.

What is hilarious, is things don't make sense until they're over. Allow me to explain. It's like we're eating this crazy rich chocolate pie... and we desperately need milk. For some reason, we end up needing to finish the whole plate before we get the milk. By that point, we feel sick, and sarcastically accept the glass of white liquid with an eye-roll that clearly and impatiently reveals our frustration as if to say, "Nice of you to show up, Pal."

What if we didn't even want the pie? What if we were already full? What if we weren't in the mood for pie? There's nothing more unsatisfying than trying to satisfy hunger with that which we weren't even craving. What if we weren't even hungry, and just wanted a drink? Then what?

Life's like that. Sometimes it makes us sick.

And sometimes the refreshment doesn't even feel refreshing by the time we get it.

And so one more week remains of 2010. I've said it before... I like to live life, and feel every bruise, every pain, every hurt as fully as possibly. As fully as I feel every moment full of joy, and love, and hope. Like holding on to a rope that's being pulled with fierce speed through my enclosed fingers... leaving behind the blood and burn of holding on. I'd rather say I felt every piece of the rope.

The same is true tonight. Christmas always humbles me. Always breaks me. Always leaves me full.

And then the milk comes.

The answers I waited for... all through the year, they come back to me at once. And all at once I look back on them.

I think I know how Santa must feel at the end of his Christmas journey... another cookie and he just might explode.

So I've got my "milk" to wash down the rest of the year. Even though some swigs might feel long over due.

Merry Christmas world. God is so good. So so good. Like a fire after a chill. Like a breeze in the heat. Like a Savior to the World. Like a baby in a manger. What a beautiful day.

Join me

I think I've said before sometimes I don't write very often... at least it seems that way. The number on the right side of my blog show the truth... I've been consistently writing less.

But the truth is, I've been writing more than I have written in a long time. I either write music or blogs... and songs have not been short supply lately. It's extremely refreshing.

I suppose the difference might have to do with the people I've been around. More and more I've been with songwriters. Hanging with them. Showing and telling songs. When I ask them "Whatcha up to?" and their responses are "Ehh messing with a song"... It makes me jealous. Makes me want to be the one who's writing the song. And more times than not, by the end of the day I've written a song too.

It's led me to realize how crucial a concept it is to pay attention to the people who surround ourselves with. The influence is unmistakable.

When I'm on the outside, it's so easy to see it clearly. On the inside, it just looks like I'm losing interest (or availability) to write blogs. But on the outside, I can see the one hand full of blogs, and the other hand overflowing with music and songs and lyrics. I'll tell you I've been completely overwhelmed in so many ways this semester. I'm hardly speaking of academics. There are things I would never even think of writing in a blog. There are things I would never articulate to the public's ear through even lyrics. And I settle for a melody that sounds like the lilts of the aches I feel inside me instead. Then it's heard... though I never said it.

Anyway, I've been pushed and encouraged by my songwriting friends to press more into my own songwriting. One of my friends told me the other day he gets jealous of how often I write. I laughed... because I felt the same about him when he tells me he's writing a song.

The people we're around push us to be like them. The bubble you're in doesn't let much else in... unless the bubble is willing to be popped. Think about it... if anything else enters a bubble... it pops.

I think of my little sisters playing with bubbles on hot summer days. Out playing in the sprinklers... towels thrown all over the lawn. The bubbles fly all over the air, and every now and then they pop against the leaves and concrete... even against the water praying out of the sprinkler. It's like this... bubbles are made out of soap and water right? Well, even if more of the same tries to "enter the bubble," (like water)... it pops.

I think in churches it's extremely necessary for a pastor to set the temperature for the rest of the people. I think a pastor has the most impacting role in a church. If a pastor is negative, then negativity is what's filling the ears and hearts of his congregation. And if he speaks blessings and life into his congregation, then that's what they're filled with. What they're filled with is what comes out of them.

I'm not talking about any church in particular. I'm not alluding to anything going on or not going on in my own home church. I just naturally associate things with churches since I'm involved in ministry and stuff like that.

When a church family talks nonstop about pursuing God and a life sold out to the Lord, it eggs everyone else on. When a pastor is constantly after God and after a deeper relationship with God, it sets the scene for everyone else to do the same.

Something I hate, literally hate, is when a paster seems to make himself like God. Someone who has no more left to go on journey of faith and life as a Christian. When a pastor teaches out of his heart, and comes across like, "See everyone? Be like me." I get so frustrated. I love seeing pastors who teach as a leader... as someone who is saying something more like, "Join me!" than "Be like me." There's a huge difference.

I like being around people who have a "join me" mentality. It's really cool. That's all I got for ya today.

And PS... any songwriters reading this... don't get jealous like I do of you... just join me.

Leaf piles

Dark dove chocolate. It's what fills my mouth right now. Smooth, sweet, deliciousness. What fills my head right now is anything but smooth and sweet.

Finals week. I'm more blessed than I realize I know, since all my exams are not really exams this week. Last week was hell week for me. Music majors seem to have the brunt of pressure the week before finals. Juries, performances, practices, and when all projects and things of the like are due. I'm amazed I never lost my voice. Good thing too. I passed everything in my jury:)

I need to just focus my thoughts right now. Rearrange my mind. It's like my thoughts are spread out like fallen leaves off a tree. If I want to enjoy those leaves, I'd only hurt myself if I jumped into them before they were all gathered together. Imagine that... you know in my urgency to get on with it, I might even try to get a running start. And lo. What a painful time for a tailbone. I don't recommend trying it. I've experience. Metaphorically. It's better to jump into a pile of leaves that will cushion your fall a little better than 3 or 4 on the cold, hard ground.

So this is my attempt to get my thoughts together.

So strange is it to consider this is my last time in college in December. My last finals week for the Fall semester. SO strange this time next year I don't even know for sure where I'll be. Although you may or may not have heard that I may be looking at some positions in Nashville once I'm graduated. Songwriting man. It's gotta give. Let's hope.

There are a great many things I'm looking forward to. Like going home in three days. We're not going back to Jersey till Friday since we're going to be recording likely on Thursday. Heck it might end up being Friday as well, and then leaving for Jerz on Saturday. That's exciting. To get to have some nicer recordings. Better demoish stuff when we meet with some song pluggers and producers. Good stuff. Exciting stuff. I'm so ready for it. So ready.

This is a point in my life I'm absolutely baffled by. I wrote a song a few years ago with the line "The world's at my feet, so why am I stuck to my seat?" And right now, I'm sort of seeing a similar portrait. The world is at my feet. But I don't feel stuck to my seat. I'm 20, and graduating in a few very short months. I can do, be whatever I want. I can go home. I can live in my dearest New Jersey and have a great job teaching all those kids I adore. Be with my friends and family. I can go to grad school instead of doing it all online. I can not do grad school if I don't want to... which is becoming a little more attractive to me lately. I just keep thinking, "Why?" If what I want to do is music... why? At this point, the answers I have for that question aren't the ones that satisfy. They might satisfy a culture I don't really like very much. The culture that frowns upon a lot of things I do. If Culture were a face, I'd slap both cheeks in a very fluid and forceful manner.

What it looks like I'm going to be doing is this: finishing this year, my senior year at Greenville College with some of the best people on the planet. Then home for the summer. I've toyed with an internship in Nashville... highly recommended before trying to get a job down there... but it just might not work out that way. So right now, I'm thinking home and work for the summer. And then getting down to business down there. Nashville. Zach and me. Right now, that's what's going through my head. I just need to go after it. The world's at my feet. And I'm standing on them. And one of them needs to start walking in front of the other. We'll see where God leads 'em.

So this is the beginning of my pile of leaves. Kinda feeling blisters the way a rake leaves it's mark after raking for a while.

On to writing some papers. Thanks for jumping in the leaves with me.

I really am tired

I cannot believe I'm awake. This day has been anything but kind to me, at least that's how it felt by the time I gathered my exhausted self into bed. That was about an hour ago. It's becoming all too familiar.

I'm somewhat of an insomniac. I do not understand how it is so much easier to take naps in the middle of the day than it is to sleep when my body is trained to sleep. Go figure.

What stumps me is this: I can't sleep. But that doesn't mean I'm not tired. I am a wreck of fatigue. I'm too tired to study any more. I'm hardly able to keep my eyes open. But sleep just won't come.

So I'm an insomniac, but that doesn't mean I'm not tired.

I feel like I've had very similar thoughts a number of times before... but just a little rearranged.

Coming to college so far away from my home challenged me a lot. You can go ahead and say, "Well honey, it's because you were homeschooled. You never saw the world." But I could kick that stereo type in the butt... I hate hearing that assumption, even though it's true my world was different than other worlds. But, it's interesting being at a Christian college and seeing the things I do. Hearing the things I do.

Something I've learned, is everyone has got their beef. Everyone has their thing they wrestle with. The things I've struggled with, and do struggle with people might never guess. And the same is true of me and others... I might have never guessed that that girl seriously struggled with bulimia for 4 years. I might not have noticed that guy over there got busted for using. I don't know if I'd have bought it if you told me someone has a certain collection of magazines behind all the school books that his girlfriend would be absolutely devastated to find.

It's not that I think every guy is a pig, and every girl a whore. It's not that at all. It's more that I can see the truth in people. The good, even though there's some struggles going on.

Like I said, people might be shocked to find out some things about me. But less and less am I surprised by things I hear about other people.

Because just like I'm an insomniac who's tired, so are so many people changed but still not perfect.

I'm changed, but it doesn't mean I'm perfect.

I'm forgiven but it doesn't mean I'm done fighting.

I'm found, but it doesn't mean I know where I am.

I'm awake but it doesn't mean my eyes are open.

I keep thinking about that passage that Paul says how much he despises knowing what the right thing to do is, and then not doing it. Sometimes we know what we should do, and we hate to do the opposite, yet that's exactly what we do.

Judging a book by its cover is a cliche and therefore in my mind a disgusting saying. And saying you can't judge food by how it smells is altogether a terrible attempt at a new metaphor, since I am the pickiest person ever and I will argue that you can in fact judge food by its smell. Even though people try to tell me otherwise. Fools.

Even still... I'll say it this way... the images we see are only images. What you see might be what you get if you stand far away. If I stand far away from my lunch, all I get is the smell. All I get is what it looks like. Maybe. But if I'm close, I might even get to taste it.

I'm seeing that in other people. What ya see is what ya get if you're too far away to get any more.

But if you're close enough you find out that "I'm a mess. But it doesn't mean I'm not trying."

Enough judging, guys. We're all in the same boat. We just might be too far away to even notice that.

And I'm an insomniac. But that doesn't mean I'm not tired.

Wish me luck.

Firewood

Tonight Lindsay Allen and I worked out and chatted... it's been a while since we got to just talk. We're both intense and deep people who just love to be with people. And hug people:) Anyway, I was just so blessed to just spend some time with her.

As sweat lined my upper lip, and she looked at the ceiling in the agony of her workout, we tossed out the things we've been thinking about, praying about... ticked out... impatient about. Ahhh I love friends.

Most people who know me well know my tongue could propel a boat with a broken motor probably better than the motor itself. I can talk a lot. I don't always, but baby, get me started on a good day, and you're doomed. But the great thing is, Lindsay loves to listen, and she loves to talk as well. And I love to listen. I love conversation. I love connecting with people. I love hearing someone's heart. Honesty is so beyond beautiful, I can't explain it. I love it.

God reminded me of a lot of things He's been teaching me and showing me lately.

A while ago, there was this man at my church. He approached my dad one day, and said, "I woke up this morning, and felt like the Lord just wanted me to bless someone with some sort of gift, and firewood came to my head. I know you sell firewood, so I thought I'd come to you."

He began asking my dad for his prices and what not. It was in the middle of Winter, and firewood sounded like a pretty good idea... warm fires for some family in the church.



And somewhere in that conversation, my family's finances came up.

Now, my family is huge. Eight kids. Two parents. Four people in college at the same time. Things certainly get rough.

End of the story consists of that man taking out his wallet and saying to my dad, "You're the one I'm supposed to give to."

And that was that.

What astounds me, is not just how beautiful his gift was to my dad and my family, but also the misinterpretation he had in the first place, which is what led him to what God's actual intension was.

He said he just kept thinking firewood... he interpreted that as buying firewood for someone... not that the firewood would lead him to the person God was leading him to.

So in my own life, I keep thinking of a few things I feel entirely lost with. I mentally bang my head against the wall, and ball up my fists, and press my teeth together to keep from screaming. Didn't God reveal something to me already? Didn't He speak to me? Didn't I hear Him right? Why isn't it working out?

And so tonight, I've been reminded... In times when I feel like God told me something, but the "X" does anything but "mark the spot" in my life, I really might not have misunderstood. I may have misinterpreted, but I did hear Him.

I keep wanting to throw away so many things I held so close to my heart. So many things I thought God had given me... revealed to me. The inspiration He's planted so firmly in me. I'm disgusted with the fact that the "X" I thought I'd come to, to "mark the spot," is really a huge "L" planted perfectly on my forehead.

So that man at church went after the firewood. But the firewood wasn't the end zone... it was on the way. He heard God correctly. It just wasn't the end of the story.

And so, here I am 10 days away from completing my next to last semester in college. Ever. What confusing bliss is this! While I'm slowly absorbing the answers to many of my coming exams, I feel quite distant to the answers I felt I already had in my walk with God, and in life in general.

But then again, I might be only looking at firewood. And firewood isn't always the end of the story.

Sometimes my own comprehension doesn't go as deep as God's intent does. Actually, let's just say it like it is-- my own comprehension never goes as deep as God's intent. But the reality is, I might not have misunderstood. And that is enough to give me some relief in this world of ridiculous unanswered questions.

Sometimes we just have to follow to see where the firewood takes us. Maybe it is the "X" we've been waiting to dig up. Or maybe it's just along the way to what's still to come.

For that man, the detail of the firewood was extremely important. And it is for us too. It's crucial. It's all part of the story.

So if you're discouraged, and upset that things just aren't matching up yet, don't fret chum:) If you're ready to throw away your whole idea you had, don't do it yet. It just might be your firewood that's along the way. And it's crucial. It's important. Don't throw it away. I won't either.

Evidence

I'm sitting on my bed. Trina is sitting next to me, and Marta (Our big lamp in the middle of the room) is shining sweetly. I have Berkley (my small green lamp on my bed) on as well. It is roommate reading time. But we're on our computers right now.

We have less than two weeks left of class. In fact I have 12 days. And come this time next week, I'll be done the nerve wracking parts with presentations and juries and all of that wonder. I'll also be gearing up for St. Louis with my people and on our way to go swing dancing!

I don't really have many deep thoughts. I'm in a very focused mood... it will likely last me until I'm on my way home to Jersey for Christmas break. And then the real partying begins. Williams style. I just adore my family. I loved being home with everyone for Thanksgiving.

Trina and I just discussed one of our favorite people at Greenville. Rick the Janitor. He's just awesome. He always says hello, and when you get talking with him, you realize he's just hilarious, and you walk away forgetting your have a crazy day ahead of you. I love moments like that. Rick, you are the man.

Drinking water is great. I've started to notice huge differences in myself when I don't drink enough. What's really funny, is once you know what it's like to drink a ton of water-- and by a ton, I mean like 100 ounces a day. You think I'm kidding you-- you suddenly have an heightened sense of thirst when you don't drink as much.

I sing for hours everyday. I'm a voice major, and practicing for my senior recital. I'm also in a band, and do my own solo stuff with my brother. I'm also in the Greenville College choir, and Chamber singers. Last night our choir rehearsal was over three hours. Tomorrow will be the same. I drink a lot of water. For my voice, and also because I love being healthy. And I feel great when I drink water. I'm a health nut baby.

But how peculiar... I didn't really notice what thirst is like till I seasoned myself with being completely hydrated all day.

I think the same is true of so many things in life. We don't know what it's like to lack something until we know what the loss actually is. The difference is quite evident.

When I don't drink water, suddenly I recognize the drought in my mouth as well as my head. I just feel wilted.

And when I realize what my own confusion, and frustration stems from.. it just makes sense. When I don't have so much time with God... I don't always realize the evidence. Until I recognize the difference. And the lines drawn perfectly to the point.

The last weeks of a semester always throw me off. You'd think I'd be more prepared for the next time it comes. Well, now it's roommate reading time. More later:)

Bears, beets, balancing your budget

This is the Office parody my COR 401 group made for our Common Day of Learning presentation today. I gotta say, even though that class was a pain in the behind, our group was awesome.