Fruit!

I ate a starfruit for the first time today. It was beautiful. This had to be documented. I made sure I chopped it the correct way. And distributed the joy through the waiting little hands of my siblings. It wasn't my favorite, but it was pretty good:)



Starfruit originated in Southeast Asia, and spread over the years, even to Florida and Hawaii.



Starfruit is also known as the carambola. Starfruits are low in saturated fat, cholesterol and sodium, and high in Dietary Fiber, Vitamin C, Copper, Pantothenic Acid and Potassium. Whooo fruit!!

I've decided to go raw fruititarian for a little while. Sorta for just cleansing and stuff like that. It's certainly not for good. But I love fruit, and since it's summer, I'm just loving the idea of only consuming fruit. I've been researching a bunch for fun, and it's pretty cool. I'll include my thought in my blogs no doubt...

Bliss

One of the best things in the morning is a coconut. Thai.



I'm telling you, there is nothing like a thai coconut smoothie. In the morning. Bliss. Absolute bliss.



There is nothing like listening to someone sing when there is absolutely nothing held back, and the sound is as fresh as a thai coconut smoothie. Perfect vocal texture. Artistic fading in and out at the right times.... like I Just Haven't Met You Yet by Buble and Your Love Is a Song by Switchfoot. Look em up, just experience the audible bliss.

I can't stand a ticking clock when I'm trying to play the piano. It messes with me. And I don't like being off beat... and when another beat is competing, I get frustrated.

Alrighty-ho, that's all. Ahhh coconuts!!

If you see my ankles, i expect to see a ring

People who know me well, know that I relish in the old fashioned. When I was younger, I used to want to be Amish. I thought the way they lived was so cool. I was intrigued by them. Living closeish to Amish country gave me enough glimpses into their ways... that and weekly trips to Dutch Wagon. I love reading books like Little Women, and anything by Jane Austin. There was something so sweet, elegant, and beautiful in the times. Purity was something to be constantly owned up to by everyone. Those who did not, were disgraced.

Of course we often say, "I wish things could be so simple..." and then we consider how things were not exactly simple, just different.

I'm giving a little disclaimer here. I know some things I say might come across offensive, but it is not my desire in the least to offend anyone.

I'm going to just launch into this. I miss the days that I never even experienced. I miss the days when a woman would feel humiliated and embarrassed to wear a revealing dress when out for the evening, like Meg in Little Women. I miss when the society would look down on a girl who flirts and flitters from boy to boy like she's a bee gathering nectar flower to flower, like Lydia in Pride and Prejudice. I miss the times when women were prizes to be won, and a pursuit was like a trek one set out to take. I miss when modesty was of the purest and most beautiful.

I don't know what it would have really been like if I found the days of my life outlined in pages much like some of my favorite authors, rather than typed by buttons on my keyboard. I don't know what it would have felt like to wear corsets and bodices and I don't know the agony of wearing my hair up at every moment of the day. In a lot of ways I love how our culture is, that I can be a hippy if I feel like it. It's true girls can decide to be rather low-maintenance these days.

However... mentioning "these days" leads me to my point. I detest what our culture has carved the people to be. I hate that we've become a consumer society, which led to the downfall of so many things once beautiful. Everything we do has to do with our obsession to consume. We're addicted. We go through withdraw violently when we try to break the spell. We're in a rock solid bubble held together by years and years of travel to come to where we are now. Everything has to be better. Everything is about bettering ourselves. We have to make more money. We have to have a better car. We have to be smarter, more attractive. And the latter has brought me into a bit of a mood this afternoon.

I was walking around Target. I tried on some random clothes. I've come to the conclusion that college washing machines might as well just swallow my clothes rather than grind them to a pulp to be spat back out at me and my emptied pockets. It's just cruel. Anyway, I'll just say it like it is... I was frustrated with how I looked in some stuff I tried on. I was annoyed, and voiced my irritations to Caleigh about how Target clothing missed the idea that clothing for women should probably consider how women's bodies differ a bit from the bodies of men. But that's just me, what do I know?

The more I kept thinking, the more annoyed I became that I was even annoyed in the first place. I looked around at the airbrushed pictures on the walls, and despaired. Our culture is so foul. So, so foul. The body of a woman is plastered everywhere, like a measuring tape on the wall reminding us where we need to reach. So many times we're left like toddlers jumping and standing on our toes, desperate to match up to the numbers on the wall. Our society knows what it looks like to be "attractive." We know what "perfection" looks like. Now that we know that, we all know what "imperfection" looks like too. Thanks to that, we all live in constant competition with our reflections. We all know that we won't be noticed by the world unless we abide by what we've made the law to be.

I don't mean to sound depressing. I'm not depressed in fact. I'm merely attempting to recreate the scenario of this afternoon. I don't like that so much is exposed to the society. I don't like that men are seen as animals only capable of sex. I don't like that girls cater and solidify that image by acting and looking like bimbos on billboards.

I'm severely and genuinely peeved. And I don't have an answer. Obviously, we cannot go back in time. We can't go back to a time when even women's ankles were scandalous. A time when the hand of a woman was like gold to kiss, a reward, rather than a given like we so easily view it today. A time when people blushed at the mention of sex, rather than howling and laughing and slapping like today. A time when the body of a woman was a mystery of unspeakable beauty, and not something exposed over and over, degraded, and taken for entertainment.

I tire of standing in a river flowing against me. I get worn out. I don't want to size up my worth by my waist line, or how my legs look in high heels. I don't want to be measured by whatever is under my chin... even though my scar is pretty cool ;) I can't help but wonder what life would be like if we weren't all completely commercialized. If we didn't have so many images before us. If we valued virtue over instant gratification. Blah!

Like I said, I have no answer, I'm just peeved.

No name tag here

This partly goes out to Teajay and his relentless pursuit of me writing what he wants to read. And then it's also just out of my pure desire to write it anyway.

Today I had the privilege to be a part of a summer class at BCC, my old school. I took a summer class there a year ago, Teaching as a Profession, a class I adored. I had so much fun in it, and learned a great deal, and still keep in touch with several other students form the five-week class. I also keep in touch with the teacher, Mrs. Furness. She was my favorite teacher in all of my BCC experience. She was wonderful. An absolutely gifted teacher. So encouraging. She pushed when she needed to. She lifted up when she needed to. She was inspiring. We've kept in touch over this past year since the class, and she's teaching the same course this summer. The Homeschooling debate was today, just happening to be the day she and I scheduled to meet for lunch.

I was honored when she asked me if I'd be willing to come in and be there for the debate, to speak and answer questions about homeschooling after the debate. I accepted, 150% willing. I was so excited.

Everyone had wonderful questions. The debate team did a great job with the pros and cons of homeschooling. I was especially pleased with how well the girl did on the con side. She hit the nail on the head about the things you need to pay attention to should one decide to homeschool.

And so, I yapped on and on answering questions for around 45 minutes or something like that. I spent some thought on making sure I didn't happen to find a jean jumper to wear today. Not that I even own one. I had to represent. We homeschoolers are A-ttractive people. I had to convince everyone who was not presently a believer. I figured my new short hair cut was a good move for this purpose, though I did not know I'd have this opportunity. God must have known;) I'm kidding. But I figured wearing sunglasses over my hair when I wasn't wearing them over my eyes would ensure I am indeed cool. And I stole some of Caleigh's earrings too. Can I tell you a secret? I left all of my own earrings and necklaces and what not in IL. In Mark's Garage. Marky, if I come back to you in three months, and you're wearing my rings, I not only will be unsurprised, but I will be frustrated. Not that you'd read this. Anyway, my words are typed, and I will direct you to them if this event should occur.

Continuing on, I discussed the workings of homeschooling. We have the same requirements as any other student. We go through SATs, we have proms, we have sports teams. We have math, and science. We even have paper and pencils. Sometimes.... even pens. But there is so much more that I could never exactly articulate especially in a short amount of time, mostly gathered together by question and response.

Homeschooling is a phenomenon uncracked even by the ones who've held nutcrackers our whole lives, aka us who have been homeschooled our whole lives. It's a procedure that cannot fit on a trifold board used for science fair. It's something that is more of a lifestyle than a word to come after, "hello I'm..." on a name tag.

In fact, Teajay and I were discussing homeschooling this morning before I left to go do the whole shindig. I compared those who are truly homeschoolers, to those who just wear the "hello, I'm..." name tags. The name tag people are like Christians who just go to church. They expect church to be the determining factor of their identity in faith. As if church makes a Christian. Instead of Christ makes a Christian. PShhhh. Please. True homeschoolers embrace making every opportunity life-changing somehow. We see the good things in the sometimes odd opportunities we have. For example, when a senior in high school has the opportunity to take a Latin class when there will be 6th graders in the same class. Crazy, right? Right. But it made a difference in my life when I was a 13-year old 8th grader, taking the same class as Adrian Rogers, who was an 18-year-old senior. He treated me and my friends like we were the same as any other person. He showed me how to treat people who weren't my age the same as anybody else. He made an imprint on me. Crazy, right? Right. He showed me we were all in the same water, and sometimes even in the same boat. He showed me what it was to push each other on towards the goal.

The goal was always to be the best we could possibly be. To be real. To be pure, and loving. To glorify God with the heads he's given us. To embrace diversity and personality. To be different, to be similar. To shop at thrift stores and find the weirdest and most amazing clothes you've ever seen, and to be affirmed by those around us for being ourselves. To be thankful and sincerely grateful for the examples we had to model ourselves after, while expressing ourselves in entirely different ways. To find joy in intelligence, to the point that we'd secretly adore our new pair of glasses because it might add more intellect to our everyday appearance. To find Borders to be the best place on earth sometimes. To find hilarious humor in pulling all nighters to pull the good grades on exams cut out for college seniors, and not high school sophomores. To find that you actually have a lot in common with your siblings, to the point you actually enjoy being with them ( or him or her) and even write love notes when you prepare their lunches. To get excited that you understand Shakespeare as if it were the words you spoke everyday.... because maybe they are. To love science fair because you got to do something that's possibly never been done before, even to the point of enjoying looking at bugs or worms for hours and hours. To share car ride with other people who wear more than a name tag and discuss how freaking hot Dunkin Donut's coffee is, and speak with an Indian accent for an entire hour. To share your heart with those around you and to shed your own limited wisdom, to gain more from another. To pray with a teacher, because she genuinely loves you, and was praying for you everyday already. To become a teacher yourself, and take part in the journey with someone else much younger than you. To walk into the place I used to take classes and realize what I have a Greenville is entirely wonderful, but what i've left behind is absolute gold. Just like the BCIT stage:)

We learned to have pride in the things we did. We learned to work hard, and pursue like we were all flames of fire seeking water to be put out, yet only to gain more flame and more passion. We learned to make learning a journey, and a journey with constant celebration.

We were joined somehow. Those of us who didn't just wear a name tag. Those of us who weren't Churchtains. We were all under the same ceiling of scholastic stars. We reached for them. We followed them. And the brightest of those stars was God, our parents, and our teachers, and the people who set us an example of what we could be with the blessings we've been given. Those stars provided light in a world jumbled with blocks and road gaps, and places that have lost electricity in the ways of the world.

Graduating a year ago with some of the most beautiful, wonderful and precious people I've ever known was amazing to me. To have our parents, and not just someone in the school system (not down playing the wonderful role someone in the public school system plays), hand us our diplomas was such a beautiful thing. Being able to praise our God for his goodness, for his blessings, for his love in our lives during our graduation was matchless.

Speaking today reminded me of the awesome blessings I've been given having been homeschooled my whole life.

My thoughts are somewhat out of focus. Maybe I'll continue this soon. Teajay, I hope you were relieved of any painful anticipation.

Zip

There is nothing like running when the clouds are full, and the earth sends stirring breath to help spin the ground under you, while the humidity was swept away by fickle storming, and the sky is a blue that makes the colors in my eyes jealous. Nothing.

Ohmuhgash

I drove a truck today! It was so well with my soul. I believe I've always wanted a truck as my personal vehicle. I've always wanted a red truck, and I even had the name Roger designated in my heart for this guy of a vehicle... it hasn't happened yet, but I'm still young, and the dream lives on.
Anyway, I drove Seb, Steph and Cal to the shore today. Ocean City! Beautiful day, freezing water, but amazing all the same. I am tan. I'm observing my hands as I type, and even my hands are darker. I'm pleased. After being on the beach since noon till about 10 p.m., ohmuhgash, I better have changed color.
It was awesome. My short hair even curled nicely. I always loved my long beach hair. But it was actually rather easy with it being shorter now. I only needed to keep my sunglasses up so the stinkin' bangs would submit to staying off my sunned face.
I met up with some friends as the three Post-Prommers (actually one was just along for the ride) roamed the boardwalk.

As I drove all these Cinderella Licensed drivers, I had a window down and just sat quietly as I rolled on through the silent pines. I decided I'm going to really like this summer, and I'm going to be free and just let life take me where it will. I've felt rather aimless as I don't have a solid job... I'm tutoring a ton, and teaching some music lessons, enough to keep me floating. But I don't have quite as much structure as I'm used to in my summers. But I think I'm going to like the spontaneity of this summer. I'll learn to like it more. Kind of a last hurrah before I go to having a ton more structure all the time in my life... I graduate in a year... from college... with my Bachelor's... what?! And so... bring on the beach babe. Bring it. Or take me with you when you go:)

And the motto of the day was this: Ohmuhgash.... :)

Cannot be contained

Yesterday, Bi and I went for a walk... we were training:) Anyway, as the two of us are living our last months of being teenagers, we of course have to talk about things like love.

Lately, I've just been thinking of love as something that cannot be contained. It cannot be exactly grasped. It can't be put to a formula. In Greek, one word can't even describe it... it has many names. And in English, I think it just has many ways of surpassing what we understand in our culture. I don't think love is exactly what we expect. I don't think it has a way of being in a "safe zone" or something like that. I think love is like stepping out on a tight rope. It's always gonna be an adventure if it's genuine.

Sometimes I think it's even better to love than to be loved. But only under the circumstances that you are loved. That might sound confusing. As long as you know you are loved, loving is the easiest and most freeing, wonderful thing in the world. I love to love.

And a lot of people laugh at "Love Languages," but when they laugh, it makes me really mad. Because I think everyone knows the pain of feeling completely unloved. And feeling unappreciated, or misunderstood for the overflow of love you have, is the most heartbreaking experience. I think I've become a very keen observer of others around me, to find what their love language might be. And then I try to communicate that way. I started getting to know one of my friends friends, and it was so obvious to me that his love language was words of affirmation. It's gotten so much easier for me to detect some of the love languages. For example, when physical touch is someone's... that's usually pretty evident.

Trina and I are obsessed with love languages as well. We're so excited to put love language stuff on our wall and stuff when we room together next year. We're both primarily words of affirmation, and then I'm physical touch almost just as high when I took the "love language test." It was kind of surprising to me at first, then, it completely made sense. I feel it absolutely devastating to reach to hug someone, and then they don't realize it, and kinda just pat my shoulder or something as their response. What rejection! I hate that. I love to have arms around me. I love to sit close to my friends, and people I care about. Trina's close second love language is quality time. So I make sure I communicate that to her too, and always look in her eyes when we talk. She makes sure she touches me, or hugs me, and we always verbally affirm each other, and write little notes to each other when we remember to. It's awesome. And so beautiful a friendship, because I know she tries so hard to communicate to me in ways I catch with my whole heart. It's awesome.

Laura and I had an awesome conversation over a year ago as we sat in the empty cafeteria at the old BCC together. We talked about when our love language is not shown, or reversed, it feels like a hate language. For example, if I'm words of affirmation, and someone calls me something, or verbally or facially dismisses me or puts me down, it's the most devastating thing. If I walk over to someone, and plan to hug him or her, and that person doesn't accept it and just stands there, I feel like they might as well have slapped me. If I give my heart a stage and speak from the deep of what I'm feeling or thinking, and I get a clipped answer like "Well, no. It's not like that, you're just over-analyzing." I feel absolutely crippled. Laura and I also make sure we communicate each other's love language. It's so important.

My parents started using our love languages in each of us in the family a few years ago. My mom always says she's proud of me, especially when she detects my apprehension in something. It's like I go from a deflated ballon, to a balloon the size of spongebob at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade when I hear that.

And so this concludes my first June issue. I love love.