a solitary art

The glow of the lamp circled onto the page, crisp and empty, waiting to be filled. It was a warm glow while the brisk breeze brushed gently across her back. The spirals and coils at the base of the lamp drew the eye upward past mosaic creme marble, wrought-iron curls, and a majestic lampshade housing the precious bulb out of which bloomed the most cozy light.

She grasped the mug between her hands, let the heat seep past the ceramic and onto her fingers, pressed her lips to the rim, and smelled the steam rising softly from its den. She tasted the bitter bean as it sailed down her throat, and savored the sugary raspberry which mingled against french roast. A bitter blend of promise for the long night ahead.

Nearby, two bodies strenuously reviewed their notes. Separately but united in one cause. Furthering their knowledge. Seeing them here, against the glow of light, surrounded by books and pages of wisdom, inspired her to delve into Faustus. To taste the words and make them as real as the coffee she held in her hands, as real as the glowing atmosphere in which she found herself tonight.

It's moments like these, she thought, when the world is simply lovely. Full of beauty. Darkness marked by lampposts and lampshades and tiny windows across the quad, brimming with light. Somewhere, someone else cares as much as she does. Somewhere, someone's light is brighly shining, or dimly, warmly, gently shining. She prefers the gentle for now, and sipping a tiny drop, returns to the pages.

reflect.

So here I am, buried in this snowglobe called life. The snow is way past my ankles, and it keeps drifting down without a care in the world, and I'm sitting here behind a giant icicle, dreaming.

Life. And most memorable moments. Everyone has one, but if you google it, most of these moments happen later in life. For me, it was this one day that I remember so vividly, and it was exactly what I needed.

I got on my blue bicycle and rode to the park, I sat underneath a green tree and read pages and pages of goodness. The sun was shining, and the breeze was blowing, and I was alive. It was a simple and beautiful moment, when my heart was jumping out of my chest because I loved what I was reading. It was almost as if I'd written it myself. Then when my hands closed the book, I rode through the trees with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair.

Some people say that they remember most the moment when they got married, or found love, or had a child, or experienced death firsthand. Innocence and youth have me for now, I can only hope that days will become richer as I age, and clear simple memories will find a home inside my heart. And now I'm curious, what is your most memorable moment? If we don't have one yet, are we really living or are we living so much that we can't take time to stop and reflect?

knitting is fabulous.

The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.
ps 29:11

i love reslife, vanilla creme tea, quiet mornings, opening books and soaking in the words, really understanding, and true friends. i love sleeping in, learning about discipleship, and hoping for a new semester.

i love time, and I'm continually learning to use it well.

rainclouds in december

Some days I just want to call it a day, close my door, and climb into bed. It's especially unfortunate when this happens at 4:00 on a Wednesday afternoon.

Instead, I have ideas to read, papers to write, people to see, meetings to lead.

And I still find myself asking why?



How do intellectuals do it? Campuses this small drive me crazy sometimes. Can I just grab a PB&J without seeing someone that I know? Can I find a solitary spot to write a paper (or update my blog!)?



Today is an angry, apathetic sort of day.

Perhaps I am apathetic because I am ignorant.

In that case, lock the door, I have some learning to do.

I'm feeling terribly inspired.

But I can't wait for the computer to turn on, the documents to open, the screen to load, the words to flow off of my fingers onto the keyboard. I feel the thoughts buzzing around in my mind, waiting to escape, and they flow too fast for my fingers to record, they are too many to caputre in just one sentence. They are multifaceted, like light rays, and they cannot be fully captured in words. Or if I tried, we would be here forever, and you and I both would be quite confused.

So here I sit, under wooden archways of the Hall of Arts and Letters, writing this instead of writing a paper. I saved the paper under the title "Coffee Beans," because it's about literary cafes in Paris. And I'm so excited to write this paper. So beyond excited. But so many other things capture my time, and then I am left writing a slipshod paper of haphazard thoughts, connected by weak transitions. However, college is the time to work all of that out. On two hours of sleep and cups and cups of coffee, we work things out. It might be a little unhealthy, but 3am, c'est la belle heure.

Speaking of French, I am in deep deep like with Proust. I had no time to read A la Recherche du Temps Perdu, but after discussing it in class, I will surely be reading it over this break. The whole world in one cup of tea? mmm sounds like my sort of writer. There is just no time to think through things, to let them sink deeply into my mind. Life is a blur, wizzing faster than I can comprehend it, and everything blends together in one array of information. Too much information, if you ask me. Quality over quantity screams stronger than a schmorgasborg of half-truths.

And that is all. My thoughts are still flowing but I'll save them for the Literary Cafes of Paris. Thursday, Friday, and then Turkey, and family and friends, and although I hate wishing time away, I just can't wait. <3

this little town.

Does Democracy make citizens more complacent because they trust the elected to do the work for them?

I think maybe so.

Also, I have a sudden interest in linguistics and this dude. It was kind of an ephiphany sort of day.