Saturday, September 04, 2004

Oh Jeno, what's become of us?

When we first met I couldn't get enough, I think you felt the same. And although we hadn't seen each other in a while, my expectations were high, remembering the good times. I guess times change. You're just not who you use to be. We could blame it on the economy, mad cow perhaps, but I think we both know deep down that you've found another. I just wrote this note to let know I notice the difference and I hope that whomever you're saving your cheese for appreciates it as much as I did. I'll probably still visit now and then, but only because you're all I can afford.

Friday, September 03, 2004

A Friday in Early September

I'd just like to share a little about my day. It all started when I woke up (obviously.) i got up earlier than i normally would on a 12:30 class day (which is every day), because I went to return textbooks and then to read an entire piece of literature for my Survey of French Literature from Origins to 1800 class. So I settled down on a bench in the shade of a big tree in the open grassy area between Ellison, Physical Science Center, and the library, for those of you familiar with the OU campus. So it was a beautiful day, just peaceful, at one point my eyes fell on as many as 7 people when I turned from one side to the other, some biking, some walking and chatting. There was a slight breeze that kept the leaves rustling, and every now and again the slight breeze turned a little gustier and a sprinkle of twirling leaves would fall around me. Now usually in situations like this, I find myself swatting at flies and mosquitos, with the occasional stinging visitor, like, say, something in the bee or wasp family. But today my insect interactions were mostly limited to a beautiful gold, brown, and black butterfly. It stayed in my area the whole time I was there, frolicking in the breeze and then landing on my book, fluttering its wings as if to stay ready in case the pages of Litterature Francaise turned out to be enemy territory, and then finally deciding it was safe, settling in for a few minutes. There's something about a butterfly gracing your day with its peaceful presence that makes everything seem beautiful and almost supernatural. I was describing my afternoon to my friend Andrew before our french class, and he laughed and said, "And so you feel like you should have some deep thought or epiphany." And that's where Jason the poet comes in (not to be confused with Jason the graham).

Backtrack to the beginning of the story. I spotted my empty bench in the shade from across the lawn, so I headed towards it, took off my backpack, plopped down, and sneezed. Immediately I heard "Bless you," from somewhere behind me, so I turned around and spotted a guy sitting under a tree 20 yards behind me. So I said, "Thank you," and turned back around. About 10 minutes later I look up to see this guy standing off to the side of my bench, clutching a notebook and looking at me. This was our dialogue:

"Would you critique my poem for me?"
"Critique your poem? Sure.... I mean, I'm not a real good..... poem.... critique. But I will."
He hands me the notebook.
"By the way, my name's Jason."
"Ok great, my name's Anne. Nice to meet you." Smiling and trying not to sound too weirded out, "So, is this for anything in particular, or just...."
"No, it's just an expression sort of."
"Oh okay."
Seeing my confusion he says, "Yeah, I mean, it's about 4 pages, but..... yeah, it's just kinda.... what's been on my mind and stuff."

So I read it. I'm not sure if it was really deep or if it was just trying to be, but it seemed to be an outpouring of what was on his mind, I guess, which made it sort of a hodge podge of quotes from Chinese proverbs, phrases trying to describe his fears and pressures, words trailing down the side of the page like a waterfall only to continue upside-down along the bottom of the page, and actions in parentheses, mostly (Inhale, exhale, inhale deeply), etc. And there were lots of changing scenes, from lighthearted meadows to dark places. The whole time I was reading this he was sitting in the grass about 8 feet from me, looking down. Now, I was praying for him, because he obviously had alot on his mind and it didn't really seem like God was the answer he was finding to life. I can't figure any other reason why that whole scene would have taken place. So I finished the poem, and I looked up at him, expecting that he'd look up at the movement from my direction. But he stayed there, staring at the ground. So I stood up and started walking over to him, and he quickly stood up. I said, "It was really good," handing him his notebook. He took it and thanked me, then I said, "Do you feel any better?" And he kinda looked at me and was like, "Yeah I do." So I smiled and said, "Then I guess it did its job, didn't it?" He kinda nodded and furrowed his brow and goes, "Yeah." "Well, it was nice to meet you, Jason." "You too." And he left.

Isn't that interesting? I'm not sure what to think about it, but I know for sure it's the first time anything like that has ever happened to me.

And then Erik asked me for a ride home after class, and when i got home Becky called to see if I could come get her from her babysitting job, and it made me really happy to have been there for people to call for help. It's really exciting when people feel like they can call whenever because they need something. Then the whole Westmoore Young Life team came over for a potluck at my house, and it was such a treat to have a bunch of people over!

So there it was, just a Friday in early September.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

The cable guy came today

(click on the picture for more)

Hey all. Just a little update from me. I got to Savannah, moved all my stuff into an attic, got booted from the attic, moved all my stuff into a shed, got kicked out of the shed, looked in the classifieds and found the cheapest place, moved all my stuff here, cable guy came and hooked up my internet. Ok, I think you're all caught up. I really like my new place, this is an official invitation to everyone to come and visit Savannah, I guarantee you free room and board, well not board...but room.
I'm curious what everybody else's set-up looks like because everybody moved in after I left. Everybody should put up pictures of their place, I need some decorating ideas too.
(PS. In that picture above I'm sitting atop Dark Horse. The wild bronco who bucked me into traffic that fateful day months ago. I have since tamed her and made her my faithful steed.)

Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Switchfoot Music Video

i just saw the music video for "Dare You to Move." It's has a creative and interesting concept. Quite honestly, this is the first time I've ever been moved by a Christian band's music video. Although I suppose Carmen's "Satan Bite the Dust" is quite powerful too. It's on itunes. Check it out.

very good story...

As you all may know I have a job at OU as a Student Lab Assistant. Well my new manager has just gone through an amazing ordeal and has written a testimony about her experience. I share this with all of you to read for yourself.

Testimony of Camelia

to all the mac people...

New G5 iMac. Likes, dislikes, opinions........
Lets here it.

Heres a link:

iMac G5

Monday, August 30, 2004

words can't express

I've been staring at this post for awhile. It's been erased several times too. I just see this blank text box, and I've got alot of thoughts inside me that want to come out, and I feel like I should be able to cover this whole box with something beautiful, something i can step back and look at and say, yes, that encompasses the emotions going on inside me. But I can't make it happen. I could try and pinpoint these thoughts and emotions for you, but for some reason, i can't put words to them. That doesn't really happen very often. I take that back, I can put words to them, but they're incomplete without a visual image accompanying them. I can't find the words to give it the 3rd dimension, to convey what I know my face and my voice would communicate. I have thoughts about beauty, about art in its countless forms and the impossibility of secular art, about how to live and how to die, how to love and how to be loved, about walking away from cherished time with a dear friend and feeling like you've been with God. I have thoughts about my passions and the directions my life may go; I remind myself that I'm not going to get on a plane after this long summer break and go back to Clermont-Ferrand, and if I did, my life wouldn't be there. My stuff wouldn't be there. My British friend wouldn't be sitting in the hall talking to her boyfriend in Britain. The Romanian girls wouldn't be in the kitchen making dinner together. I remind myself that I live in Norman. But I'm not sad. Sadness feels one-dimensional, and what I feel has countless dimensions. And somehow, I've got an inextinguishable joy inside. Not a loud, giddy emotion, but rather, a peace. A hymn comes to mind, one of Papa's favorites, "It Is Well With My Soul." When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrow like sea billows roll, whatever my lot thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.

I feel like I've been walking in the presence of the Lord these past few days, in a way I never have before. In the past, precious times with the Lord have produced in me an overwhelming happiness that keeps me grinning at all moments and bouncing everywhere. But now I'm experiencing something new: an inexplicable calm. I can't explain why that's where the Lord has me right now, but I suppose it will become clear to me. Am I making any sense to you all? If any of my thoughts rings a bell with you, please comment or call me even.

Peace be with you.