Last night I read a Pitchfork interview with The National, a pretty awesome band which sings many songs that seem to reiterate my thoughts as a twenty-something. I always thought that the main singer Matt Berninger must be a friend I hadn’t met yet because he sung about how one wants to be idealistic about the world as a place for adventure but at the same time he twists it so you realize it’s false.
My favorite song by him is “Geese of Beverly Road” from the album Alligator. He says, “Hey love, we’ll get away with it. We’ll run like we’re awesome, totally genius….We’re the heirs to the glimmering world.” And yet, his deep voice sounds a bit sad, almost desperate. I mean sure, we can get away with whatever shenanigans we want and consider ourselves pure genius, but he clarifies with like we’re awesome. I could be stretching it, but I feel like you could replace it with “as if” because you can act and believe you are awesome, but in reality you have to be normal and boring and average to move through life, stay on everyone’s good side, etc. In his next line he says that we’re the heirs to the glimmering world. Why not a glittering i.e. sparkling world instead? Merriam Webster defines glimmer as “to shine faintly or unsteadily; to give off a subdued unsteady reflection”. Clever twist of words there. We’re heirs to a faintly flickering world. And that can be how the world feels sometimes, right?
Man Berninger, you are a bit of a pessimist—but really, you speak truth.
Is this a “thing” that twenty-somethings have to go through? An online comic which reflects much of the same thing is the thought-provoking and sometimes sobering “Cat and Girl.” This one really makes me laugh and cry in a sick twisted way because it’s really true especially if you went to college and majored in liberal arts. But, anyway, thinking about how in one’s twenties, one’s idealism is overshadowed by sobering reality is a bit depressing.
I’d like to think that people who ignore that and try to live life the way they want to turn into the most interesting people. Is it lame to end with another comic? I’ve been really getting into those.
Anyway, xkcd has a great response that pretty much says screw it and do what you want…right here.
Yes, the world is ugly and not as fun as when you were sixteen with a license, but you can make that world into whatever you want if you hold onto whatever you love and chuck the rest.
(it’s not easy but it can be done)
-JC
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Monday, December 13, 2010
Wow!
In the past two days, two of my friends have gotten requests for interviews for med school. Add that to the news I had earlier heard about requested interviews, I must simply say...WOW!!!! Congratulations you guys!
(humorously, most of the people to whom I refer might not even read this, but when you have good news, you really can't help but share!)
Also, my first semester of grad school is finally officially over! And, all that I'm feeling regarding it apparently means I'm doing the right thing. :)
But back to business: congratulations to all! The future is scary, but we all pretty much turn out okay. (thank goodness!)
preferring bright futures over blind futures,
J-Choc
Monday, December 6, 2010
Ketchup?
Well, I figured I would write a catch-up on how the bloggers of this forsaken blog are doing. One (not me) is happily in a really great doctoral program in a paradise with happy people and all types of relationships. Lucky for both of us is that, although neither of us is in our hometowns, we are a simple two hours distance away from each other. Which is really nice when one gets lonely. =)
Well for my piece, I am instead in a Master’s program that should lead to a PhD. Well, “could” lead to a PhD. Who knows. Funding here sucks and the place sucks, so yeah, probably not going there for a possible doctorate. I can’t say this kind of stuff on facebook for example because I now have many a friend on there who goes to my school. Actually, my professors, peers, advisor, family, and even friends would be appalled to hear this next bit: Sometimes I don’t think grad school is all it’s cracked up to be. I used to think it was the program in which I am currently enrolled, and, if that were the case, that’s okay because I plan on getting a doctorate in something else. So, in spite of what follows it could be the program, and that is fixable. The thing is though, whenever I go to dinner with people from my class on Monday nights, go to these mixer things (because if I don’t, I won’t leave the apartment), or listen to people talk about their research, I get this sense of dread and thoughts start running through my head like: “What are the heck are they talking about and how does that relate to anything practical? Does anything I say relate to anything practical?” and then, specifically when they talk about their graduate school life, I think “Can I really do this kind of stuff for 5-7 more years? Why isn’t this interesting anymore?” So, what I’m saying is…ehh I don't know.
I should be thankful really. I am really lucky to be here. There are nice people here, and people are obviously very smart. Someday I'll be that too. I guess right now I'm humbled by all the brains around me.
I really really miss all of my friends, and man, they are the best a person could ask for--they humble me by how much they express their love. I don't know. God really, really decided to be nice and give me them. I've told a few how I've felt, and they've been pretty supportive. The funny thing is, these people make living here both bearable and unbearable.
Bearable because, for many, we chat and it's as if nothing's changed. They, sadly, make it unbearable because whenever I get off the phone or sign off, I remember that I'm not there with them.
Dang, that sounds pretty sad I'm sure. BUT it's more reason to keep on keeping on, so I can get out of here and hopefully (Ojala!) be lame and come right back there to get a doctorate. Not lame--just not good at saying bye. =) AND if I for some reason can't go back (b/c things usually will never be like it used to be), that's okay too. As long as I'm not getting a doctorate here... I am trying really hard to like it here, and I’m not avoiding interaction. I have to stick it out. And I will. Three more semesters, and I’m out.
Jchoc-it-up-to-I'm-probably-just-homesick
Friday, August 6, 2010
I shift my shaaaaape!
"Shape Shifter" by Local Natives is stuck in my head, but the song that really has stuck with me is "Who Knows, Who Cares" by the same group. Their beautiful vocals sing about how things change and you cannot really stop them; instead, you can only really depend on those circumstances to change. I am a bit of a personal control freak (for others I can be more lenient), and the thing that worries me is my transition to graduate school. Yep! I'm on my way to grad school--not law school, nor office job of some sort--grad school. That is very exciting and, in writing this, I feel a distinct sense of accomplishment for having made it period. (and really when I say made it, I mean that I am lucky to have made it) So far, I've been living like a impoverished intern, deciding between food and filling my car with gas. Next stop is grad school into the far blue yonder. And that next stop is coming up quickly. I am a bit afraid of the change--normally I see change as another sort of adventure--but for some reason, I am constantly chickening out. I have done the desk job thing, and I can't stand the lack of creativity it takes to punch numbers and talk about people's families while peering between pots of flowers resting on plywood covered desks. I need a job where I can think critically or do some research. That was my favorite part: researching for my job so that I could impart some knowledge to some 11 year olds I had to teach. In spite of my obvious distaste for the office life, sometimes I feel as if academia might become the same thing. I feel as if I am not ready for more paperwork, and that I may possibly stifle myself yet again. I think though that am verging on the brink of being nit-picky. You can only find self-fulfillment through so many ways, and everything becomes boring every once in awhile. Still, like I told a friend of mine, sometimes I just want to chuck it all, get a one-way ticket to somewhere in Southeast Asia, get some crazy local job, live and wander, and come back to America with grim mouth set in place by experiences and deep eyes hiding a view of life developed by a maturity cultivated by living alone. I don't know why, but I feel like what I am going to do very soon is somewhat limiting. Even though academia create stuff for journals, they have to kiss up to publishers and the big wigs who determine what cultural theories are in style. When and if I get a job in a professorial position, I'll have to teach to students who don't care about what I am passionate about, and I will have to write papers that don't offend certain academic dignitaries, do interest the right people, and do help me get tenure. Does it sound like I am ungrateful? If you asked me what I would want to do if money were no option, I would tell you that I would want to write. But I am not a good writer. It takes a lot to build up a repertoire of things to write about, and, unless I run away to Asia, I have no dark history or memory to build upon and write about the human condition. Maybe I am just nervous about putting myself into one category: that of the academic. It used to excite me to think that I could wear tweed and chat about my favorite post-Imperialist author. Now, I wonder if that will be enough. How can I know unless I go out there and begin my degree plan? I guess that that is a truth. I can't stand what I deem the mundane talk, and I barely talk as it is. Perhaps this will be a nice safe zone. A woman I worked with this summer who was around my age talked about how she aims to get married and teach little kids. To me, I cannot understand it. When people say, "well, blah-blah, I'll do this, and then I'll get married, settle down and have kids," I get wide-eyed inside and wonder "that's it?" Is it stupid to think that? Am I heartless or just not adult enough yet to think about having babies and jazz. It's just weird. I feel like a neophyte when it comes to grad school and the same for having kids. What's left? Maybe I am just hitting adult puberty and need to calm down until it's all over and I can finally settle into the "next thing." "Who knows, Who Cares" Local Natives serenades. Maybe I just need to let it go too.
-JChoked
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
It's all about that PR (personal responsibility)
Okay okay, so I am watching Moulin Rouge (for the second time), this crazy movie about true love overcoming all odds right. (Yay happy idealism and actually a movie that has nothing to do with the following subject matter really) Then I look around and see people with life pretty much well put together (or appear so--good fakers...) And then now I remember a conversation with the other contributor to this blog. I realize and know that I don't want to talk about the future (aka graduating from Adult Day Care...I mean, college). And no, I don't want to talk about it. I don't really want to talk about it. It literally makes me queasy. Okay, I take it back.
Well, am I the only one kinda freaked about this sort of thing? Not having life all together and yet being thrust into another transition, another future? Sure I've got plans, but do I really want to follow through with them? Will the pieces fall into place so that I can go through those plans? I guess you can't really worry about those things you cannot really change, but still, that's a pretty huge question mark.
And another thing, have I changed enough to handle these additional changes. I may be the age that I am, but am I ready? Is this typical talk from a graduating senior? Aack probably.
Inner perfectionist says "everything must make sense. everything must make sense." And it doesn't. I know that it won't.
But still, really?
I guess someday I will read this and laugh. That is, if I got accepted to even more schooling and then get a career and then can afford a good computer and a house and a car and pay off loans and pay my taxes and buy my groceries and get married and start a family.....
and the list goes on and on
JShocked
Well, am I the only one kinda freaked about this sort of thing? Not having life all together and yet being thrust into another transition, another future? Sure I've got plans, but do I really want to follow through with them? Will the pieces fall into place so that I can go through those plans? I guess you can't really worry about those things you cannot really change, but still, that's a pretty huge question mark.
And another thing, have I changed enough to handle these additional changes. I may be the age that I am, but am I ready? Is this typical talk from a graduating senior? Aack probably.
Inner perfectionist says "everything must make sense. everything must make sense." And it doesn't. I know that it won't.
But still, really?
I guess someday I will read this and laugh. That is, if I got accepted to even more schooling and then get a career and then can afford a good computer and a house and a car and pay off loans and pay my taxes and buy my groceries and get married and start a family.....
and the list goes on and on
JShocked
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Blah-ddy Blah Blah
I think I have this notion in my mind that if I try my hardest, everything in life will eventually make sense. And maybe, due to circumstances that keep accumulating as I near graduation from college, I’m really supposed to learn the hard way that many times things just won’t. Make sense, that is. Deep, deep down inside of me I have discovered a perfectionist who finds the details in the chaos (just look at any aspect of my desk, hair, composure, etc…pretty much chaos) But to me it makes sense. All of it makes sense. People make sense. Situations make sense. Circumstances make sense. But more and more however, I am finding that all of these things will not make sense no matter how hard I try to make it so. A friend of mine told me that you pretty much have to just let things go and let time or the circumstance mend itself. While this would be the easiest, truer option, it is not easy to an inner perfectionist.
Relationships…family…career…status quo…staying “cool” under tough circumstances: all stuff I cannot understand. And yet, maybe I’m not supposed to really understand it—that would imply that all of these things are concepts to be “figured out” and thus turned into something predictable.
You know what’s not predicable? Having a bad day and then bumping into someone who brightens it for an hour and half. Trying to trust someone who has done things which are really untrustworthy. Finding a connection with someone you wouldn’t expect and then realizing that three hours felt like three minutes. Realizing that someone else’s life experience turns out to be just the thing you needed to hear.
The beauty of unpredictability is that it entails not only the possibly horrendous but also the stupendously marvelous occurrence that makes you stop and think, “I wasn’t expecting that!”
I don’t know what the moral of this tale is, but I don’t have to know…..yet.
—I mean, I can remain confident that some things, including morals, aren’t going to be understood.
Hello, Grey Area! My name is Jchoc.
Relationships…family…career…status quo…staying “cool” under tough circumstances: all stuff I cannot understand. And yet, maybe I’m not supposed to really understand it—that would imply that all of these things are concepts to be “figured out” and thus turned into something predictable.
You know what’s not predicable? Having a bad day and then bumping into someone who brightens it for an hour and half. Trying to trust someone who has done things which are really untrustworthy. Finding a connection with someone you wouldn’t expect and then realizing that three hours felt like three minutes. Realizing that someone else’s life experience turns out to be just the thing you needed to hear.
The beauty of unpredictability is that it entails not only the possibly horrendous but also the stupendously marvelous occurrence that makes you stop and think, “I wasn’t expecting that!”
I don’t know what the moral of this tale is, but I don’t have to know…..yet.
—I mean, I can remain confident that some things, including morals, aren’t going to be understood.
Hello, Grey Area! My name is Jchoc.
Monday, September 21, 2009
I have never been more proactive and inquisitive in all my life; I've been arranging meetings and emailing all kinds of people, both acquaintances and strangers, all concerning a variety of things. It's a self feeding cycle that just uncovers more and more that needs to be uncovered but it's also very rewarding and energizing at the same time.
And very exhausting.
-D*sire
And very exhausting.
-D*sire
Saturday, August 29, 2009
In response to "Legacy" (chopped in size) :)
First of all, it's almost 11pm and this is about the only time in the entire Jchoc time-space continuum that I ever, ever get loquacious regarding anything.
I read this last post that will fall directly below mine, and as I type, I think about how two people are (theoretically) supposed to contribute to this blog. So what better way than to respond to the other writer's post? (I was going to do it anyway, but now I have a legit reason of sorts) (I guess)
Anyway right! About Legacies! I read the previous blog and it was truly wonderful to see the beauty of the nice family and the traditional settings and activities that my fellow blogger and friend has described. She has every right to be content and grateful for what she has and the life she has lived. Reading it made me think about my own life, and actually, how quite different it is. And also how it has shaped me as a person. Oddly.
[...]
My life has made me who I am, and I am still trying to figure that out today. (who I am, that is) I wish that there was a better way to say this, but sometimes life really sucks and sometimes I don’t know what to do about it. You get thrown experiences and you’re supposed to live through them. But nobody tells you how.
Family is a beautiful concept and it must be carefully handled. It makes you who you are, whatever that “who you are” will be. Be grateful for it, no matter who’s part of your lovely legacy league. You’ll never get a better bunch of people to show you what life’s all about, really. And if you still find life surprising, they are certainly there to commiserate with you in your sufferings. I find it that way with mine. I’m not nuclear, and sometimes I wish it were so, but, that’s not really what the big “it” is, is it? It’s the beauty of the human experience. I really like this line from an Avett brother’s song I am particularly fond of (hey Brian if you read this and made it this far, I bet you can guess which one!):
“Always remember there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name”
We’re all probably nuts like the rest of the world, but I love my family.
-Jaychoc-o-lotto
I read this last post that will fall directly below mine, and as I type, I think about how two people are (theoretically) supposed to contribute to this blog. So what better way than to respond to the other writer's post? (I was going to do it anyway, but now I have a legit reason of sorts) (I guess)
Anyway right! About Legacies! I read the previous blog and it was truly wonderful to see the beauty of the nice family and the traditional settings and activities that my fellow blogger and friend has described. She has every right to be content and grateful for what she has and the life she has lived. Reading it made me think about my own life, and actually, how quite different it is. And also how it has shaped me as a person. Oddly.
[...]
My life has made me who I am, and I am still trying to figure that out today. (who I am, that is) I wish that there was a better way to say this, but sometimes life really sucks and sometimes I don’t know what to do about it. You get thrown experiences and you’re supposed to live through them. But nobody tells you how.
Family is a beautiful concept and it must be carefully handled. It makes you who you are, whatever that “who you are” will be. Be grateful for it, no matter who’s part of your lovely legacy league. You’ll never get a better bunch of people to show you what life’s all about, really. And if you still find life surprising, they are certainly there to commiserate with you in your sufferings. I find it that way with mine. I’m not nuclear, and sometimes I wish it were so, but, that’s not really what the big “it” is, is it? It’s the beauty of the human experience. I really like this line from an Avett brother’s song I am particularly fond of (hey Brian if you read this and made it this far, I bet you can guess which one!):
“Always remember there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name”
We’re all probably nuts like the rest of the world, but I love my family.
-Jaychoc-o-lotto
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Legacy
I feel like I’ve breathed this huge sigh of relief, that I’ve recaptured that belongingness and level of comfort that is afforded only by coming home, of being with people that you know at this level that is unparalleled really anywhere. It’s this feeling of knowing how to live with these people, of this lifelong history of a shared environment. There really is nothing like it. And I don’t know if I’m being sentimental because “absence makes the heart grow fonder” or if I’m just in one of those moods, but I was sitting in the living room listening to the speakers my dad just built; it was one of those moments that you never want to end. And I got to thinking a bit. So here’s my inheritance/legacy of greatness. (not quite the correct words for what I'm trying to express, but they'll work loosely)
My Dad
Sure he can get on my nerves and sure he has quirks that you have to adjust to and accept, but that’s characteristic of everyone. I got to thinking, however, that my husband’s got a lot to live up to. My dad’s a pretty amazing guy, who fits and molds this stereotype of a great dad and family man. He’s crafty and woodworks with the best of them—has built most of our furniture. He plays golf pretty much everyday and is good at that as well. He’s really into stereos and has this awesome quality system. He’s sporty—coached both me and my brother for years, still coaches, and still plays soccer and bball himself. AND he’s smart—a chemical engineer. And he’s curious about the world, always seeking to understand more things. He’s this great Christian, seeking to better understand God and that relationship. He does basic car mechanic-y stuff. He’s not overly sensitive and gushy, but he does care. And on top of all that, he’s an animal lover—a house is not a home without a dog. That’s quite the tall order there: good/smart job, woodworking, coaching kids sports teams, golf, man of God, car guy, and generally outgoing and personable. Yes indeedy, quite the stereotype there.
My Mom
My mom’s this all American great stereotypical mom. Home room mom, cooked and baked, kept a clean and orderly house while carting around the kids all day. She was that mom that made her kids lunch and would tuck a note in with the peanut butter sandwich just to say that she loves them. She organized sleepovers, let the neighborhood kids play in and around the house, laid back enough to let the kids be kids but also able to teach right from wrong. She organized birthday parties in the park and decorated Christmas cookies for the holidays and battled the snow to get to Grandma’s house by December 24th. She’s abundantly patient and loving, no matter what. She was there for the scraped knees and heartwrenching tears and ready with a snack after school to hear about how Johnny pushed Hunter and how Taylor’s tongue turned purple because of the KoolAid. And as I’ve gotten older, she’s become this ear and sage to whom I can turn about anything. She’s been able to mature and grow with us (my brother and I) as we grew up so as not to alienate or lock herself in this unreachable time lock. She’s adjusted to being an empty nester fairly well, finally being able to pick up her own interests that she’d set aside in order to raise her children. Now she’s in a knitting club, holds two part time jobs, reads, and gardens.
I grew up in a small town with a white picket fence. I had a family dog, a brother, and an allowance. We’d run around in the neighborhood with all the kids, playing games in any and all of our yards because it was safe to just roam the neighborhood. I baked with my mom, went to soccer practice with my dad, and we went to church on Sundays as a family. I was on the Bible quizzing team and made straight A’s in school without having to try. I wasn’t popular but I had friends; we weren’t rich but I never did without; and overall I was generally happy.
This is my legacy: for all you cynics out there, I just wanted to inform you that the stereotype exists, because I lived it… and I didn’t think that it was anything unusual. And as I stand at the crossroads in my life, looking back at the road behind me and the white picket fence, I can’t help but to get a little sad—for all the things that were and that will never be again; for all the things that I lived, without really understanding their significance; for all the ways that my life was perfect but I didn’t realize it at the time.
And I hope that this bit of intro- and retro-spection will be able to jumpstart that ability to live in the moment and cherish it for what it is and for what it will be, to better enjoy it as I live it and not only in reminiscence.
And in spite of all this, it feels so good to come home.
D*sire
My Dad
Sure he can get on my nerves and sure he has quirks that you have to adjust to and accept, but that’s characteristic of everyone. I got to thinking, however, that my husband’s got a lot to live up to. My dad’s a pretty amazing guy, who fits and molds this stereotype of a great dad and family man. He’s crafty and woodworks with the best of them—has built most of our furniture. He plays golf pretty much everyday and is good at that as well. He’s really into stereos and has this awesome quality system. He’s sporty—coached both me and my brother for years, still coaches, and still plays soccer and bball himself. AND he’s smart—a chemical engineer. And he’s curious about the world, always seeking to understand more things. He’s this great Christian, seeking to better understand God and that relationship. He does basic car mechanic-y stuff. He’s not overly sensitive and gushy, but he does care. And on top of all that, he’s an animal lover—a house is not a home without a dog. That’s quite the tall order there: good/smart job, woodworking, coaching kids sports teams, golf, man of God, car guy, and generally outgoing and personable. Yes indeedy, quite the stereotype there.
My Mom
My mom’s this all American great stereotypical mom. Home room mom, cooked and baked, kept a clean and orderly house while carting around the kids all day. She was that mom that made her kids lunch and would tuck a note in with the peanut butter sandwich just to say that she loves them. She organized sleepovers, let the neighborhood kids play in and around the house, laid back enough to let the kids be kids but also able to teach right from wrong. She organized birthday parties in the park and decorated Christmas cookies for the holidays and battled the snow to get to Grandma’s house by December 24th. She’s abundantly patient and loving, no matter what. She was there for the scraped knees and heartwrenching tears and ready with a snack after school to hear about how Johnny pushed Hunter and how Taylor’s tongue turned purple because of the KoolAid. And as I’ve gotten older, she’s become this ear and sage to whom I can turn about anything. She’s been able to mature and grow with us (my brother and I) as we grew up so as not to alienate or lock herself in this unreachable time lock. She’s adjusted to being an empty nester fairly well, finally being able to pick up her own interests that she’d set aside in order to raise her children. Now she’s in a knitting club, holds two part time jobs, reads, and gardens.
I grew up in a small town with a white picket fence. I had a family dog, a brother, and an allowance. We’d run around in the neighborhood with all the kids, playing games in any and all of our yards because it was safe to just roam the neighborhood. I baked with my mom, went to soccer practice with my dad, and we went to church on Sundays as a family. I was on the Bible quizzing team and made straight A’s in school without having to try. I wasn’t popular but I had friends; we weren’t rich but I never did without; and overall I was generally happy.
This is my legacy: for all you cynics out there, I just wanted to inform you that the stereotype exists, because I lived it… and I didn’t think that it was anything unusual. And as I stand at the crossroads in my life, looking back at the road behind me and the white picket fence, I can’t help but to get a little sad—for all the things that were and that will never be again; for all the things that I lived, without really understanding their significance; for all the ways that my life was perfect but I didn’t realize it at the time.
And I hope that this bit of intro- and retro-spection will be able to jumpstart that ability to live in the moment and cherish it for what it is and for what it will be, to better enjoy it as I live it and not only in reminiscence.
And in spite of all this, it feels so good to come home.
D*sire
Summer Recap
I've been working in the Clinical and Cognitive Neuroscience department at the University of Missouri. Got to be a subject for an EEG and fMRI study. Got to help run the EEG and fMRI studies. Met some cool people--including one from Germany.
Also got a paid internship in the Molecular Microbiology and Immunology department at the Med Science Building at Mizzou. Feels very "sciency"--pipettes, microscopes, chemicals. Met some cool people there, including one who's wedding was like something off tv.
Been volunteering at the Missouri School for the Deaf. Has shown me how much my sign skills are lacking... has also shown me how much I love sign in spite of everything. I love how the kids interact; it's what I always dreamed being a part of a large family would be like--the little kids bugging the older ones, the older ones messing with the little ones, helping the little ones, doing each other's hair, everyone helping to clean up after dinner. And it's all done with hands flying in rapid conversation. It's incredible.
I've been living with Nana and Papa. Which has been interesting. It’s been trying at times due to Nana’s attempted mothering instincts. It’s been great because I don’t have to pay for room and board. And getting to spend time with them for such a large block is good too, because (not to be too depressing) we don’t know how long this opportunity would be around. It’s been interesting living with a Parkinson’s patient as well as someone HOH. Definitely gives me perspective on the practical day to day challenges of the families of the people I could very well be dealing with professionally in the future.
I’ve read 15 books.
I’ve run just about every day and biked some (one time 30 miles!).
I’ve been working on my resume and grad school applications and statements of purpose.
Visited an oral deaf classroom—that was interesting to see the speech therapy and all the CI kids.
Met a few nice people—went to a bar a couple of times, and a couple of indie flicks (Gigantic and Moon).
Played some pickup soccer with the psych dept.
Watched a lot of Friends and Scrubs and NCIS—love them.
Got some sweet furniture from Nana and Papa’s storage room.
The weather (temperature wise) has been incredible. Supposed to be 75 degrees this weekend, July 18th!
Went "bar hopping"--sorta. That was an experience. Meeting people in a bar, tried this super strong shot of something minty, danced a (very) little. But it was pretty no pressure b/c it was my last night in the state and I went with some girls that carried the conversation and made sure I had an out if I was uncomfortable. Also got to see one of the girl's DJ brother and a drummer practicing in their empty (closed) club. It was pretty cool. And no I did not get wasted. Just to clear that up.
Oh and huge perk—didn’t have to get up and get to work at 8, which means more sleep AND still getting to run in the morning.
Really couldn’t ask for a better summer. What else would I have been doing? Working 15 hours a week at Pretzelmaker and living at home, bored out of my mind? This has been way better for me (and my resume).
D*sire
Also got a paid internship in the Molecular Microbiology and Immunology department at the Med Science Building at Mizzou. Feels very "sciency"--pipettes, microscopes, chemicals. Met some cool people there, including one who's wedding was like something off tv.
Been volunteering at the Missouri School for the Deaf. Has shown me how much my sign skills are lacking... has also shown me how much I love sign in spite of everything. I love how the kids interact; it's what I always dreamed being a part of a large family would be like--the little kids bugging the older ones, the older ones messing with the little ones, helping the little ones, doing each other's hair, everyone helping to clean up after dinner. And it's all done with hands flying in rapid conversation. It's incredible.
I've been living with Nana and Papa. Which has been interesting. It’s been trying at times due to Nana’s attempted mothering instincts. It’s been great because I don’t have to pay for room and board. And getting to spend time with them for such a large block is good too, because (not to be too depressing) we don’t know how long this opportunity would be around. It’s been interesting living with a Parkinson’s patient as well as someone HOH. Definitely gives me perspective on the practical day to day challenges of the families of the people I could very well be dealing with professionally in the future.
I’ve read 15 books.
I’ve run just about every day and biked some (one time 30 miles!).
I’ve been working on my resume and grad school applications and statements of purpose.
Visited an oral deaf classroom—that was interesting to see the speech therapy and all the CI kids.
Met a few nice people—went to a bar a couple of times, and a couple of indie flicks (Gigantic and Moon).
Played some pickup soccer with the psych dept.
Watched a lot of Friends and Scrubs and NCIS—love them.
Got some sweet furniture from Nana and Papa’s storage room.
The weather (temperature wise) has been incredible. Supposed to be 75 degrees this weekend, July 18th!
Went "bar hopping"--sorta. That was an experience. Meeting people in a bar, tried this super strong shot of something minty, danced a (very) little. But it was pretty no pressure b/c it was my last night in the state and I went with some girls that carried the conversation and made sure I had an out if I was uncomfortable. Also got to see one of the girl's DJ brother and a drummer practicing in their empty (closed) club. It was pretty cool. And no I did not get wasted. Just to clear that up.
Oh and huge perk—didn’t have to get up and get to work at 8, which means more sleep AND still getting to run in the morning.
Really couldn’t ask for a better summer. What else would I have been doing? Working 15 hours a week at Pretzelmaker and living at home, bored out of my mind? This has been way better for me (and my resume).
D*sire
Friday, July 24, 2009
One Word
Just got back from the lab (psych lab). The German guy (Thomas) and I share an office. So I came back from the MRI center and go to our office to get my stuff. He was still there doing stuff on the computer. So we make polite conversation. It's 4 oclock on a Friday and he and I are pretty much the only ones left (which sounds like I'm setting something up that I'm not, don't get excited). So I'm packing up and he says something about "So you're leaving?" And I was like "Yeah." Beat. "How late do you work?" And he kinda glances at the screen where he's working on an email. "Oh, I'm just typing up emails to my friends in Trier." Beat, smiling. "So it's not really work."
Holy. Freaking. Crap. He slipped one word in German in, and I literally melted all over the floor. They had to come and mop me up. And I'm not even attracted to him! AND German's not a hot language... but it was probably the most sexy thing all summer. And it's ten times sexier when they don't know that it's sexy. *sigh*
D*sire
Holy. Freaking. Crap. He slipped one word in German in, and I literally melted all over the floor. They had to come and mop me up. And I'm not even attracted to him! AND German's not a hot language... but it was probably the most sexy thing all summer. And it's ten times sexier when they don't know that it's sexy. *sigh*
D*sire
Monday, July 13, 2009
Gadzooks! a Post!!!
So this weekend I went canoeing down a lake crawling with alligators (this is JChoc by the way). It was amazing. It was scary (I wasn’t kidding about the alligators, we counted at least eight). It was beautiful. It was silent. It was eye-opening.
Finally getting to have an intellectual conversation and a discussion on what God is like makes this come a lot easier and picks up right where things left off. =) One thing that I love about how God is is that He makes nature. I really can’t handle how beautiful He has made the earth. How do you not look at the graceful egret taking off for flight and not think, there’s got to be more than random stuff and a directionless mixture to make something beautiful? The water below was clean and dark, green and blue with turquoise running through it like a play on colors that only One intimate with the color blue could express. Of course, below that blue were many feet of deep water that I could sink in. That’s not too exciting, but after ignoring that, I could look over the side and watch the ferns and fallen trees grow underwater fronds which swayed in the liquid breeze, like an upside down reality.
Dude, can you tell I like nature?
Yup, it’s one of my favorites. I could lay in it for hours. Just lay in the grass and listen to animals go about their day without even a thought of the human body taking up space. Like Jesus says, the lilies neither toil nor spin, and neither do any of His other animal creations. They just kinda go. Ever try to misdirect an ant? Sure it gets confused, but once it gets their bearings, it keeps going. How do you think that little dude gets his focus? From his Creator who takes care of him.
But sorry, back to the river with the alligators (there were some that were pretty huge. They’re so quiescent –GRE word!- that you can’t tell if they’re a log or not until you accidentally get too uncomfortably close) Sorry again! River. Alligators. Weekend. Yes, okay. So, while I’m paddling with my buds, I got to thinking about certain things. I guess it's same-ole, same ole, but ahwell.
Either way, it was good fun on the river.
J-J-Jaychoc!!
Finally getting to have an intellectual conversation and a discussion on what God is like makes this come a lot easier and picks up right where things left off. =) One thing that I love about how God is is that He makes nature. I really can’t handle how beautiful He has made the earth. How do you not look at the graceful egret taking off for flight and not think, there’s got to be more than random stuff and a directionless mixture to make something beautiful? The water below was clean and dark, green and blue with turquoise running through it like a play on colors that only One intimate with the color blue could express. Of course, below that blue were many feet of deep water that I could sink in. That’s not too exciting, but after ignoring that, I could look over the side and watch the ferns and fallen trees grow underwater fronds which swayed in the liquid breeze, like an upside down reality.
Dude, can you tell I like nature?
Yup, it’s one of my favorites. I could lay in it for hours. Just lay in the grass and listen to animals go about their day without even a thought of the human body taking up space. Like Jesus says, the lilies neither toil nor spin, and neither do any of His other animal creations. They just kinda go. Ever try to misdirect an ant? Sure it gets confused, but once it gets their bearings, it keeps going. How do you think that little dude gets his focus? From his Creator who takes care of him.
But sorry, back to the river with the alligators (there were some that were pretty huge. They’re so quiescent –GRE word!- that you can’t tell if they’re a log or not until you accidentally get too uncomfortably close) Sorry again! River. Alligators. Weekend. Yes, okay. So, while I’m paddling with my buds, I got to thinking about certain things. I guess it's same-ole, same ole, but ahwell.
Either way, it was good fun on the river.
J-J-Jaychoc!!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
As a direct antithesis to my previous post, I have discovered that there is one place that I always feel like I belong, even in a town where I know no one--the soccer field. Now that may not come as a surprise to those of you that care to read this, but it definitely does to me. Sure I grew up playing soccer, but it was with the same people always. I didn't expect the feelings of familiarity to necessarily transfer to any soccer field anywhere... but apparently it is far reaching in its breadth.
And that's a nice feeling of "homeness" in a place whose newness everywhere is so very wearying.
D*sire
And that's a nice feeling of "homeness" in a place whose newness everywhere is so very wearying.
D*sire
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
The Evidence is In
Well.. I now have conclusive evidence that there is, in fact, something inside my head... and that something looks strangely like a human brain!!
I got an fMRI done today, and it has been one of the top experiences of my year.
Even though it's not super interesting with all the details, I'm going to chronicle all of them more for my sake than necessarily anything else.
I get to the brain imaging building and am shown into the back where there are the imaging computers and a couple of desks etc. I'm run through the questionnaire by this nice old man who is very good about explaining the 'whys' behind most of the stuff, perfect for my inquisitive nature. The PI explained that there would be three phases to the procedure: 1)lay on the floor looking at a computer screen and, according to the directions of the various subparts, either speak the short phrase or mime it out. The phrases were stuff like, "water the flowers" and "wash the dog". Following that section, I did two easy peasy Sukodu puzzles (1-4). Probably distractor tasks. Then after that's done, the PI explains to me that the first task was a memory task--that the third and final part of the study (in the actual fMRI machine) would be recalling which of those phrases I had previously seen. He obviously couldn't tell me that ahead of time or my knowledge of the purpose of that part of the study would skew the results by making me pay more careful "memorizing" attention to those items.
So they run through a final screening just to make sure I don't have any metal on me, and then do a metal detecting wand (very much like those at airports and sounding and looking very much like something out of Star Wars. They even called it the Vader Wand). Then I'm taken into the white, pristine looking room with the ominous looking machine waiting for me to slide right into its gaping mouth. I'm not nervous though, mostly excited. I lay down in the slidey table and the start hooking stuff up to me--two tubes that will administer the puffs of air onto my left foot and left hand, the response buttons for me to press (A for "yes I've seen that phrase before" and B for "no, i haven't") etc. I'm trying not to grin the entire time because I figure that's not the normal face of someone that will be stuck inside a high power magnet for the next hour and a half. Finally, everything is hooked up, I have a blanket over me (cuz it's kinda cold in the room), they snapped a coil (much like a hockey mask) tightly over my face and wedged my head in place with foam pieces, put the two mirrors on the coil to reflect the computer monitor image in front of my eyes, and $16,000 noise-cancelling headphones to combat the 100 db of the MRI. They raise the table and feed me to the machine.
Once inside, they turn on the monitor and talk through the intercom system directly into my headphones. "Are you good in there?" "Yeah." I must try not to move any part of my body while in the scanner, even to answer their questions.
The task: a phrase will flash on the screen and I'm to press the appropriate button for "yes I've seen it" or "no, I haven't". During some of the blocks there was a puff of air administered as the stimulus was presented. There were quite a few blocks, alternating which body part got the puff and whether there was a puff.
After the practice session, the PI got on the intercom in my earphones and commented that typically they see the fastest responses in young men (because of all the video games they play) but that mine were right on par with them.
After the first two blocks were done, the PI gets on again and says that he had looked at the first block of data and I was holding REALLY still. "Good job, Kristen. Keep it up." It was pretty hard to keep so still for so long, but I tried really hard. Every so often (and then when it was all over) they again commented about how still I'd stayed. Mission: Success.
Finally, when I could just barely focus any more, the screen said, "Thank you for participating. You will debriefed shortly." So then the researchers come and unhooked everything from me.
We go out to the computer and after a little finagling, Dr. Hackley pulls up a 3-D picture of my brain. There was a sagittal, coronal, and axial view, and each had a scrolly line to adjust. So you could start at the front of the skull and watch as you built the entire brain from front to back, side to side, bottom to top. It was, hands down, the most amazing thing I've seen in a loooong time.
There's my corpus callosum. There's my third ventricle, and my fourth ventricle. There's my frontal lobes--those make my decisions for me! And there's my basal ganglia and thalamus and cerebellum and brainstem. There's my pons and pituitary<--That makes my oxytocin and antidiuretic hormone. We found the hippocampus and the thing that runs along the corpus callosum whose name escapes me at the moment--we found it, w/e it's called. We found all the sulci and gyri. We found my visual cortex. We also found my optic nerve at the optic chiasm and traced it all the way to my retina. This is what's inside my head!! Sooooo coool!!!
I think what we were looking at was the structural scan (none of the functional hemoglobin measuring scans). So it was the basis upon which the other functional scans were based.
*Note: I'm really glad that I sat in on Boehm's neuroanatomy class last semester or I would have had no idea what I was looking at. Props for audits.
I'm gonna try and score a picture or a print out of my brain before I go home. Hopefully that's not against IRB protocol.
Either way, nothing like hands-on learning. And this is as hands-on on MY brain as I want anyone to get for a long time. Awesome day!
I got an fMRI done today, and it has been one of the top experiences of my year.
Even though it's not super interesting with all the details, I'm going to chronicle all of them more for my sake than necessarily anything else.
I get to the brain imaging building and am shown into the back where there are the imaging computers and a couple of desks etc. I'm run through the questionnaire by this nice old man who is very good about explaining the 'whys' behind most of the stuff, perfect for my inquisitive nature. The PI explained that there would be three phases to the procedure: 1)lay on the floor looking at a computer screen and, according to the directions of the various subparts, either speak the short phrase or mime it out. The phrases were stuff like, "water the flowers" and "wash the dog". Following that section, I did two easy peasy Sukodu puzzles (1-4). Probably distractor tasks. Then after that's done, the PI explains to me that the first task was a memory task--that the third and final part of the study (in the actual fMRI machine) would be recalling which of those phrases I had previously seen. He obviously couldn't tell me that ahead of time or my knowledge of the purpose of that part of the study would skew the results by making me pay more careful "memorizing" attention to those items.
So they run through a final screening just to make sure I don't have any metal on me, and then do a metal detecting wand (very much like those at airports and sounding and looking very much like something out of Star Wars. They even called it the Vader Wand). Then I'm taken into the white, pristine looking room with the ominous looking machine waiting for me to slide right into its gaping mouth. I'm not nervous though, mostly excited. I lay down in the slidey table and the start hooking stuff up to me--two tubes that will administer the puffs of air onto my left foot and left hand, the response buttons for me to press (A for "yes I've seen that phrase before" and B for "no, i haven't") etc. I'm trying not to grin the entire time because I figure that's not the normal face of someone that will be stuck inside a high power magnet for the next hour and a half. Finally, everything is hooked up, I have a blanket over me (cuz it's kinda cold in the room), they snapped a coil (much like a hockey mask) tightly over my face and wedged my head in place with foam pieces, put the two mirrors on the coil to reflect the computer monitor image in front of my eyes, and $16,000 noise-cancelling headphones to combat the 100 db of the MRI. They raise the table and feed me to the machine.
Once inside, they turn on the monitor and talk through the intercom system directly into my headphones. "Are you good in there?" "Yeah." I must try not to move any part of my body while in the scanner, even to answer their questions.
The task: a phrase will flash on the screen and I'm to press the appropriate button for "yes I've seen it" or "no, I haven't". During some of the blocks there was a puff of air administered as the stimulus was presented. There were quite a few blocks, alternating which body part got the puff and whether there was a puff.
After the practice session, the PI got on the intercom in my earphones and commented that typically they see the fastest responses in young men (because of all the video games they play) but that mine were right on par with them.
After the first two blocks were done, the PI gets on again and says that he had looked at the first block of data and I was holding REALLY still. "Good job, Kristen. Keep it up." It was pretty hard to keep so still for so long, but I tried really hard. Every so often (and then when it was all over) they again commented about how still I'd stayed. Mission: Success.
Finally, when I could just barely focus any more, the screen said, "Thank you for participating. You will debriefed shortly." So then the researchers come and unhooked everything from me.
We go out to the computer and after a little finagling, Dr. Hackley pulls up a 3-D picture of my brain. There was a sagittal, coronal, and axial view, and each had a scrolly line to adjust. So you could start at the front of the skull and watch as you built the entire brain from front to back, side to side, bottom to top. It was, hands down, the most amazing thing I've seen in a loooong time.
There's my corpus callosum. There's my third ventricle, and my fourth ventricle. There's my frontal lobes--those make my decisions for me! And there's my basal ganglia and thalamus and cerebellum and brainstem. There's my pons and pituitary<--That makes my oxytocin and antidiuretic hormone. We found the hippocampus and the thing that runs along the corpus callosum whose name escapes me at the moment--we found it, w/e it's called. We found all the sulci and gyri. We found my visual cortex. We also found my optic nerve at the optic chiasm and traced it all the way to my retina. This is what's inside my head!! Sooooo coool!!!
I think what we were looking at was the structural scan (none of the functional hemoglobin measuring scans). So it was the basis upon which the other functional scans were based.
*Note: I'm really glad that I sat in on Boehm's neuroanatomy class last semester or I would have had no idea what I was looking at. Props for audits.
I'm gonna try and score a picture or a print out of my brain before I go home. Hopefully that's not against IRB protocol.
Either way, nothing like hands-on learning. And this is as hands-on on MY brain as I want anyone to get for a long time. Awesome day!
The Loathed Question Revisited
An excerpt from Oliver Sack's Awakenings:
"Yet we know so much of the devices of disease, and so little of the powers of health that are in us:
To well manage our affections, and wild horses of Plato, are the highest Circenses; and the noblest Digladiation is in the Theater of ourselves; for therein our inward Antagonists, with ordinary Weeapons and down right Blows make at us, but also like Retiary and Laqueary Combatants, with Nets, Frauds and Entanglements fall upon us. Weapons for such combats are not to be forged at Lipara, Vulcan's Art doth nothing in this Internal Militia... --Sir Thomas Brown
These are the terms in which we experience health and disease, and which we naturally use in speaking of them. They neither require nor admit definition; they are understood at once, but defy explanation; they are at once exact, intuitive, obvious, mysterious, irreducible and indefinable. They are metaphysical terms - the terms we use for infinite things. They are common to colloquial, poetic and philosophical discourse. And they are indispensable terms in medical discourse, which unites all of these. 'How are you?', 'How are things?'; are metaphysical questions, infinitely simple and infinitely complex."
This eloquent discourse serves to mitigate my antipathy towards that same platitudinous and banal question that so plagues our culture inasmuch as there is more metaphysical inquiries contained within its subtleties than most individuals are prone to envisage.
Consequently, Sacks goes on to state that "the whole of this book", which details the case studies of numerous patients suffering from encephalitis lethargica and/or severe Parkinsonian symptoms, "is concerned with these questions - 'How are you?", 'How are things?' - as they apply to certain patients in an extraordinary situation." Such extraordinary situations mainly entail being 'locked inside one's own body'--unable to move of one's own accord, to speak, subject to respiratory and oculogyric attacks, and possibly the most detrimental of all, a sort of 'loss of self', of a DESIRE to do anything. They no longer seem to care about anything--moving, eating, connecting, and, inasmuch as these desires are the essence of living, life itself. Furthermore, the accounts detail these very same locked in patients and the transformation they experience under the administration of L-Dopa: going from virtually paralyzed and lifeless, to walking and talking and relating, to manic episodes of destruction and uncontrollable libido, and finally landing back in the neighborhood of where they started, some a bit more pathological, some a bit less.
In Sack's characteristically descriptive and exquisite narrative style, these patients' stories seem to leap from the pages in very much the same sense that they exploded from their semi-paralytic states following their initial doses of L-Dopa. And he not only details the symptoms but the patients, the WHAT that is obvious as well as the HOW ARE YOU that is perhaps not so obvious but just as important if not more so.
Well done Sacks.
--D*sire
"Yet we know so much of the devices of disease, and so little of the powers of health that are in us:
To well manage our affections, and wild horses of Plato, are the highest Circenses; and the noblest Digladiation is in the Theater of ourselves; for therein our inward Antagonists, with ordinary Weeapons and down right Blows make at us, but also like Retiary and Laqueary Combatants, with Nets, Frauds and Entanglements fall upon us. Weapons for such combats are not to be forged at Lipara, Vulcan's Art doth nothing in this Internal Militia... --Sir Thomas Brown
These are the terms in which we experience health and disease, and which we naturally use in speaking of them. They neither require nor admit definition; they are understood at once, but defy explanation; they are at once exact, intuitive, obvious, mysterious, irreducible and indefinable. They are metaphysical terms - the terms we use for infinite things. They are common to colloquial, poetic and philosophical discourse. And they are indispensable terms in medical discourse, which unites all of these. 'How are you?', 'How are things?'; are metaphysical questions, infinitely simple and infinitely complex."
This eloquent discourse serves to mitigate my antipathy towards that same platitudinous and banal question that so plagues our culture inasmuch as there is more metaphysical inquiries contained within its subtleties than most individuals are prone to envisage.
Consequently, Sacks goes on to state that "the whole of this book", which details the case studies of numerous patients suffering from encephalitis lethargica and/or severe Parkinsonian symptoms, "is concerned with these questions - 'How are you?", 'How are things?' - as they apply to certain patients in an extraordinary situation." Such extraordinary situations mainly entail being 'locked inside one's own body'--unable to move of one's own accord, to speak, subject to respiratory and oculogyric attacks, and possibly the most detrimental of all, a sort of 'loss of self', of a DESIRE to do anything. They no longer seem to care about anything--moving, eating, connecting, and, inasmuch as these desires are the essence of living, life itself. Furthermore, the accounts detail these very same locked in patients and the transformation they experience under the administration of L-Dopa: going from virtually paralyzed and lifeless, to walking and talking and relating, to manic episodes of destruction and uncontrollable libido, and finally landing back in the neighborhood of where they started, some a bit more pathological, some a bit less.
In Sack's characteristically descriptive and exquisite narrative style, these patients' stories seem to leap from the pages in very much the same sense that they exploded from their semi-paralytic states following their initial doses of L-Dopa. And he not only details the symptoms but the patients, the WHAT that is obvious as well as the HOW ARE YOU that is perhaps not so obvious but just as important if not more so.
Well done Sacks.
--D*sire
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Trail Mix
A running analogy--trite I know. But hang with me. There's a reason that they're so ubiquitous...
You're running, feet pounding the pavement. A cool breeze revitalizes your energy and you feel so alive, so right. This is your Christian walk, when you first lace up the running shoes and take off, accepting Jesus into your life as Lord and Savior... and you start the race with Him. You run with energy toward the vanishing point, excited to be on this journey with him. But after awhile, just like the seeds planted among the weeds, life comes in and chokes in on your path. And you start taking your eyes off the goal, off of Jesus.
Ooo... pretty flowers... And you stop and play in them for awhile. Not harmful in and of themselves, but they impede your race. They distract you from what you're supposed to be doing.
The clouds are moving in in the distance... you start to worry about the future. What will I do if this happens; how am I going to survive if that happens. And your feet slow to a walk as you're consumed by thoughts of things that are out of your control.
Or you start to focus on the fact that you're running alone. It especially hits home when you see others in the trail running with partners. And you may find a dark shadowy place to crawl into and feel sorry for yourself for awhile.
And then out of the gloom and your self-absorbed knot you hear a voice: "Don't you trust me?"
You look up and can barely make out a shape standing on the path and holding his hand out to you.
You KNOW in your mind that he's right; you know that you DO trust him, somewhere inside... but it's just so hard to make your heart listen, to stand back up, brush yourself off, and start running again--still alone.
So he asks again, "Do you trust me?"
And you do, so you brace yourself, crawl out, take his hand, and start running again. The first little while is always the hardest, until you find your groove again.
Soon again, though, your eyes start to wander again, and your feet start to slow... It's times like these when you need someone to come along side you and encourage you to keep up the race. A friend comes along and runs with you for awhile and your energy is restored. With Jesus on one side and a friend supporting the other, you can make it through stretches that you look back on and think, "I have no idea how I made it through that."
You meet regularly at the watering stations and are encouraged by the solidarity of seeing a bunch of other runners. They know what you're going through; they know what the race is like, with its ups and downs. You leave the water break with a new found excitement and motivation.
But it's a constant battle against the dark woods that threaten to suck you in, against the scorching of the Texas sun threatening to make you pass out. And all the while is the voice of Jesus next to you, "I have run this race before; I know where you're going. I've planned it all out." And you just have to trust that he will guide you through each muddy puddle and ginormous hill and pull you back in when you want to crawl into a hole and stop running. You still have to experience those trials, sucky as they are; but as so many people have said before, you don't appreciate and value the downhills unless you know what the uphills are like.
You have to constantly be reminded of who it is you're running with, and for, and towards. And it's only the hope that his presence provides that keeps you going.
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus the author and perfecter of our faith" (Hebrews 12:1-2a)
So that when it's all said and done you can say, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day" (2 Timothy 4:7).
Running is fun, rewarding, tiring, harder than all get out, but the feeling you get when you end up home really is worth the struggle.
You're running, feet pounding the pavement. A cool breeze revitalizes your energy and you feel so alive, so right. This is your Christian walk, when you first lace up the running shoes and take off, accepting Jesus into your life as Lord and Savior... and you start the race with Him. You run with energy toward the vanishing point, excited to be on this journey with him. But after awhile, just like the seeds planted among the weeds, life comes in and chokes in on your path. And you start taking your eyes off the goal, off of Jesus.
Ooo... pretty flowers... And you stop and play in them for awhile. Not harmful in and of themselves, but they impede your race. They distract you from what you're supposed to be doing.
The clouds are moving in in the distance... you start to worry about the future. What will I do if this happens; how am I going to survive if that happens. And your feet slow to a walk as you're consumed by thoughts of things that are out of your control.
Or you start to focus on the fact that you're running alone. It especially hits home when you see others in the trail running with partners. And you may find a dark shadowy place to crawl into and feel sorry for yourself for awhile.
And then out of the gloom and your self-absorbed knot you hear a voice: "Don't you trust me?"
You look up and can barely make out a shape standing on the path and holding his hand out to you.
You KNOW in your mind that he's right; you know that you DO trust him, somewhere inside... but it's just so hard to make your heart listen, to stand back up, brush yourself off, and start running again--still alone.
So he asks again, "Do you trust me?"
And you do, so you brace yourself, crawl out, take his hand, and start running again. The first little while is always the hardest, until you find your groove again.
Soon again, though, your eyes start to wander again, and your feet start to slow... It's times like these when you need someone to come along side you and encourage you to keep up the race. A friend comes along and runs with you for awhile and your energy is restored. With Jesus on one side and a friend supporting the other, you can make it through stretches that you look back on and think, "I have no idea how I made it through that."
You meet regularly at the watering stations and are encouraged by the solidarity of seeing a bunch of other runners. They know what you're going through; they know what the race is like, with its ups and downs. You leave the water break with a new found excitement and motivation.
But it's a constant battle against the dark woods that threaten to suck you in, against the scorching of the Texas sun threatening to make you pass out. And all the while is the voice of Jesus next to you, "I have run this race before; I know where you're going. I've planned it all out." And you just have to trust that he will guide you through each muddy puddle and ginormous hill and pull you back in when you want to crawl into a hole and stop running. You still have to experience those trials, sucky as they are; but as so many people have said before, you don't appreciate and value the downhills unless you know what the uphills are like.
You have to constantly be reminded of who it is you're running with, and for, and towards. And it's only the hope that his presence provides that keeps you going.
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus the author and perfecter of our faith" (Hebrews 12:1-2a)
So that when it's all said and done you can say, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day" (2 Timothy 4:7).
Running is fun, rewarding, tiring, harder than all get out, but the feeling you get when you end up home really is worth the struggle.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Brian's Bucket List (cuz he refused to write it down)
In an order yet to be determined:
1. Eat at panera
2. Try pretzel flip sides
3. Learn how to swim.
4. Go out on a boat.
5. Lay in a hammock.
6. Eat a whopper.
7. Read A Wrinkle in Time.
More to come.
1. Eat at panera
2. Try pretzel flip sides
3. Learn how to swim.
4. Go out on a boat.
5. Lay in a hammock.
6. Eat a whopper.
7. Read A Wrinkle in Time.
More to come.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
"Welcome to Missouri" *sarcastically
Okay, so here's how things went down.
Because I was going to stay in MO after my parents left, we packed up two cars and drove from Bville to Columbia for my brother's family graduation party. I had all my stuff for my summer stay in my car (bicycle, clothes, running stuff, shoes, books, etc). We arrive and everyone helps carry my stuff downstairs. I was going to just carry some stuff in, but people kept coming, so we just unloaded everything. So we go inside and chill, eat, hang out, whatever. Bedtime. Wake up the next morning.
We were eating breakfast and chilling the next morning when my cousin and aunt start looking for a cooler. "Did you bring it in?" "I don't remember bringing it in." "Did YOU bring it in?" So it gradually comes to light that her iPod and the cooler full of beer have been stolen out of her car. And this happening in a what we thought was "nice" neighborhood. So I go outside and look in my car which I find unlocked. Crap. I don't ever leave it unlocked; must have just gotten overlooked because everyone was unloading. But nothing was in there. I saw a first aid kit that I keep in my console had been moved to the seat, so I knew they'd gone through my car, but nothing seemed to be missing, because, again, we had thankfully unloaded everything the day before. So I go back inside and suddenly it dawns on me: all the cash that I had taken out for the summer (all $200 of it) was in that console (where I ironically stored it so I wouldn't be carrying that amount around in my purse where it could get lost). I race outside in full knowledge that it's not there. And I am not mistaken. Needless to say that I was upset. Upset at myself for being so careless mostly. It's very hard not to relive all the "if-only" scenarios: if only I'd double checked that it was locked; if only I'd remembered to take it in; if only I'd put it in my purse in the first place; and the list goes on and on. So I went running (good way to burn up some of that upset-ness). Didn't work a whole lot but I suppose it did help a bit. Still ruined my day however. Which sucks, cuz I missed the graduation lunch thingy (feel kinda bad about that). But I had to find a way to get "un-upset" because there was gift time and family time still remaining. As I was running to burn up the upset-ness, God eventually pressed this verse on my mind, "Give to everyone who asks you and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back." Wow, if any verse were ever applicable, this would be the one. And then He reminded me of when Jesus was on the cross and said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." Now, if Jesus can forgive those that BEAT and CRUCIFIED him, I can forgive some mislead teens (most likely teens) who took a few dollars and whom Jesus made and loves regardless. But even though I know in my head that this is the right thing to do, it's still hard. It's all part of the process of Jesus making me more like Him.
But, there is more to this story. Later, I went to see how much cash I actually had in my wallet. And lo and behold there is a wad of twenties there. I furrow my brow in confusion. Did I, in fact, move it to my wallet and not remember doing so?... No, I was pretty sure that that had not been the case. So I go ask my mom and she gets this funny look on her face as she tries to cover it up. But I eventually get it out of her that my aunt had given some money to my brother to put in my wallet (this is the aunt who is recently divorced and who works three jobs--I still feel bad about that, and if she'd have given the money to me I wouldn't have taken it). I don't figure all of it was from her, but I don't know who else supplied the rest.
Next night:
My dad gets it into his head that we are gonna do a stakeout and try and catch the culprits if they come back for a second helping. So we spend FOREEEVER in the dining room going round and round about who's going to call who and who's going to go and how dad's going to man the golf club and mom's going to call 911 and now what's our grandparents' address. Sheesh, we'd make awful cops. So the plan is for each of us to take 2 30 minute shifts from 11 to about 3; we sit in the smaller of the two garages in the dark, staring out the blinds of a side door. My brother and my dad slept in tennis shoes so they could run after the thieves? I don't really know what they were planning on doing but whatever. Of course I could sleep before my shift, too excited/too much going on. And then just about the time I DO manage to drift off, my mom is touching my foot. My turn. So I go upstairs and stare at the two cars (which my dad was going to bait with money, but didn't end up doing so) for thirty minutes. Nothing happens. As far as my shifts go, I see one car, hear some dogs, and that's the extent of my stakeout events. I find out the next morning that five minutes after my mom's first shift a guy walks by with his dog, and then down the other side of the street a little later. This was one of the suspects that my grandparents think might have done it. They found it questionable that he was walking his dog that late (to which there are certain scenarios that would fit, but they are rather few). Regardless, nothing happened that night. But now we're all a bit on edge and I've (sorta) participated in a stakeout.
Lessons Learned:
First and foremost, the sacrifice and great love of our Savior. "Father forgive them, for they know not what they are doing"--how incredible.
Second, that family will come through for you no matter what (and that feels so good to KNOW).
And lastly, lock your car! ^__^
Welcome to Missouri, can only go uphill from here!
Because I was going to stay in MO after my parents left, we packed up two cars and drove from Bville to Columbia for my brother's family graduation party. I had all my stuff for my summer stay in my car (bicycle, clothes, running stuff, shoes, books, etc). We arrive and everyone helps carry my stuff downstairs. I was going to just carry some stuff in, but people kept coming, so we just unloaded everything. So we go inside and chill, eat, hang out, whatever. Bedtime. Wake up the next morning.
We were eating breakfast and chilling the next morning when my cousin and aunt start looking for a cooler. "Did you bring it in?" "I don't remember bringing it in." "Did YOU bring it in?" So it gradually comes to light that her iPod and the cooler full of beer have been stolen out of her car. And this happening in a what we thought was "nice" neighborhood. So I go outside and look in my car which I find unlocked. Crap. I don't ever leave it unlocked; must have just gotten overlooked because everyone was unloading. But nothing was in there. I saw a first aid kit that I keep in my console had been moved to the seat, so I knew they'd gone through my car, but nothing seemed to be missing, because, again, we had thankfully unloaded everything the day before. So I go back inside and suddenly it dawns on me: all the cash that I had taken out for the summer (all $200 of it) was in that console (where I ironically stored it so I wouldn't be carrying that amount around in my purse where it could get lost). I race outside in full knowledge that it's not there. And I am not mistaken. Needless to say that I was upset. Upset at myself for being so careless mostly. It's very hard not to relive all the "if-only" scenarios: if only I'd double checked that it was locked; if only I'd remembered to take it in; if only I'd put it in my purse in the first place; and the list goes on and on. So I went running (good way to burn up some of that upset-ness). Didn't work a whole lot but I suppose it did help a bit. Still ruined my day however. Which sucks, cuz I missed the graduation lunch thingy (feel kinda bad about that). But I had to find a way to get "un-upset" because there was gift time and family time still remaining. As I was running to burn up the upset-ness, God eventually pressed this verse on my mind, "Give to everyone who asks you and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back." Wow, if any verse were ever applicable, this would be the one. And then He reminded me of when Jesus was on the cross and said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." Now, if Jesus can forgive those that BEAT and CRUCIFIED him, I can forgive some mislead teens (most likely teens) who took a few dollars and whom Jesus made and loves regardless. But even though I know in my head that this is the right thing to do, it's still hard. It's all part of the process of Jesus making me more like Him.
But, there is more to this story. Later, I went to see how much cash I actually had in my wallet. And lo and behold there is a wad of twenties there. I furrow my brow in confusion. Did I, in fact, move it to my wallet and not remember doing so?... No, I was pretty sure that that had not been the case. So I go ask my mom and she gets this funny look on her face as she tries to cover it up. But I eventually get it out of her that my aunt had given some money to my brother to put in my wallet (this is the aunt who is recently divorced and who works three jobs--I still feel bad about that, and if she'd have given the money to me I wouldn't have taken it). I don't figure all of it was from her, but I don't know who else supplied the rest.
Next night:
My dad gets it into his head that we are gonna do a stakeout and try and catch the culprits if they come back for a second helping. So we spend FOREEEVER in the dining room going round and round about who's going to call who and who's going to go and how dad's going to man the golf club and mom's going to call 911 and now what's our grandparents' address. Sheesh, we'd make awful cops. So the plan is for each of us to take 2 30 minute shifts from 11 to about 3; we sit in the smaller of the two garages in the dark, staring out the blinds of a side door. My brother and my dad slept in tennis shoes so they could run after the thieves? I don't really know what they were planning on doing but whatever. Of course I could sleep before my shift, too excited/too much going on. And then just about the time I DO manage to drift off, my mom is touching my foot. My turn. So I go upstairs and stare at the two cars (which my dad was going to bait with money, but didn't end up doing so) for thirty minutes. Nothing happens. As far as my shifts go, I see one car, hear some dogs, and that's the extent of my stakeout events. I find out the next morning that five minutes after my mom's first shift a guy walks by with his dog, and then down the other side of the street a little later. This was one of the suspects that my grandparents think might have done it. They found it questionable that he was walking his dog that late (to which there are certain scenarios that would fit, but they are rather few). Regardless, nothing happened that night. But now we're all a bit on edge and I've (sorta) participated in a stakeout.
Lessons Learned:
First and foremost, the sacrifice and great love of our Savior. "Father forgive them, for they know not what they are doing"--how incredible.
Second, that family will come through for you no matter what (and that feels so good to KNOW).
And lastly, lock your car! ^__^
Welcome to Missouri, can only go uphill from here!
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