Mild Success

Blogging is daunting. I'm not sure how many of my three readers actually have ever attempted to blog, but the "new post" screen is horrifying. With the new Google layouts, it's all sorts of whites, grays, and weird in-betweens that mess with my eyes and make me question my vision. I do not like questioning my vision; it’s one of those simple aspects of life that I don’t totally understand, but I appreciate it nonetheless. And here Google and the writing world are pushing themselves into my head and questioning this mundane fact, a mildly irrelevant fact at that. Please, allow me to see without needing to question it; I wanted to write, not wonder about the state of my eyes. Moving along, writing: it can be as fierce and precarious a task as battling the weather.

Frequently, when it snows, I have this fantastical moment of surveying a world blanketed in white, undisturbed and untouched. As a child, I woke up on a snow day exhilarated. No school. No homework. And, most importantly, nothing to do. Except sled – and sled I did, along with other snow appropriate activities. I have created many “igloos”(half-covered, half-walled, not-even-half-safe-structures), made snow-people (Frosty would have been disappointed), and had a snowball fight or two. But before all of these shenanigans could commence, I first had to step into the snow. I bundled myself – layer after layer of material that promised to keep me warm and dry. Then, once I was safe from the frozen elements drifting about outside, could I step out into this wonderland. Approaching my favorite sledding hill, I was often delighted to find I would receive the pleasure of making the first track. Sled in hand; I would pause to decide where exactly was the perfect point to launch. Ten minutes before, I could not contain my anticipation of the snow-dusted ventures; but now, faced with a sea of white, I hesitated. The sun glinted off every shimmering surface, and, just for a moment, I was blinded by the vastness of this world that had overtaken my backyard whilst I slept.

After hours of frozen fun, I would come inside bleary-eyed and exhausted. I would take my sweet time to thaw back out, exchanging my soaking clothes for a warm shower and a cozy afternoon complete with hot chocolate and a good movie. But then, inevitably, sometime later I would again crave the excitement and adventure I found in the snow. Against my mother’s advice, I would venture out, this time undaunted and unshaken by the cold, wet world that waited outside the comfortable confines of my warm house.

Writing, much like a splendid rendezvous in the snow, can leave a person bleary-eyed and exhausted, but somehow craving just a little bit more. It is a myriad of complexities, yet a third grader can do it. It brings to mind a single question and obstacle: how to fill a blank whitish page with words, coherent ones at that, preferably ones another human might want to read? Throughout the past 4 months, I have tussled and attempted to overcome the giants of subjects, structures, and entertainment – my formidable opponents. Generally, I instead pursue my other hobbies and put a hold on any writing projects. Instead of accepting defeat, I prefer to think of it as prolonging the battle.

A vast world of writing lies ahead of us - well me, a world of reading ahead of you perhaps. I will be honest with you: today I have wasted your time. I have had a lovely exercise in creative writing, but often blogging, like gallivanting in the snow, is utterly pointless. I led you in here with a decent title and the promise of some sort of entertainment, or at least some thoughtful insight. From my first paragraphs, you might have assumed I would talk about how to write or a cute tale of winter exploits, but really, I have shared nothing at all. I harbor a great appreciation, however, for the superfluous moments in life. The fact that you read this, possibly even in its entirety, suggests that today my opponents were vanquished. Thus, think what you will, but I consider this small post a mild success.

Motorcycles and Plans

"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. ³⁴ Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." - Matthew 6:33-34

In kindergarten I wanted to be a teacher. (It was that or a Target cashier)
In third grade I wanted to be a third grade teacher. (I decided Target was not a viable option)
In seventh grade I wanted to be a seventh grade teacher. (Or possibly work at NASA)
Freshman year I wanted to be a high school english teacher. (Spoiler: I'm not an education major)
Then people started asking me about a major. I started responding that it would be psychology, I'm still not sure where I got that idea. Almost too late to prepare, I decided I should also do music.
I made my choice; I moved into a dorm; and I thought I was home free for awhile.
Then I started making more plans. I look at graduate programs and where I want to go. I ponder doctorate programs and what I want to do with my degrees.

Everytime I make a decision, someone asks me to think ahead a little further.
I keep living my life in the future, always striving for the next step.
What about now? What are we doing now? Is worries and plans standing ahead of the moment?

Are we loving people?
Are we seeking Jesus?
Are we pursuing passions?
Are we living?


Tonight a couple friends and I went to Froyos and then on a drive. We were pulling out of the parking lot, belting bad pop lyrics when everything stopped. I had been staring out the back windows enjoying the darkness and relaxing when my friends started screaming.
Across the intersection, a woman pulling into McDonalds had hit a man on a motorcycle. Slowly the man got up and wheeled his bike off to the side. No damage was visible, and traffic resumed.

It's a fact I so often forget. I'm lost in my world of homework, exams, RA duties, and friendships. My version of living moment by moment often is living up my limited time to relax and nothing more. Easily, that situation could have taken a turn for the worst. Someone's late night McDonald's run almost went terribly wrong. In an instant that man's life could have changed forever - or been taken.

Every instant counts. We never know when we could be that guy - when that one wrong place-wrong time accident could happen. We never want to believe that it could be us. To have plans and dreams - to want and strive for a future is a needed part of life. The problem is when it becomes life. Because everything is changing by the moment.

Are we doing what counts, or relying on the motions to barely survive?

Pray the Atypical

Where do you pray?

When do you pray?

I love the prayers of children. They pray the unthinkable. They pray the abnormal.
   They choose the atypical prayer.
As a child I thought of prayer very simply. There was The Lord's Prayer. There was my father's prayer at dinner every night. And there was the prayer before bed. Each had a script, each had a purpose, and each had a time to be said.

The Bible has a very different view of prayer. Jesus teaches to "pray without ceasing." Without ceasing isn't even a very distant relative to thrice daily keeps you saved. Jesus prayed everywhere he went, sometimes in a garden, sometimes in a boat, but regardless of where, it was often and with purpose.

I used to think that prayer was a meal time and a bedtime activity. But when the thought came to my mind this morning, I realized I do my most avid praying in the shower and walking around.

So, where do you pray? Your answers might suprise you.

Be a Kid.

I have become one with the air.  My last post was about storms....I would kill for a good storm right now.
Let's be honest for a moment: I'm okay with heat - I spend my summer in the wilderness sans AC (okay, I find AC here and there - not the point). But this is getting a little crazy. It's not unbearably hot - I'm just unbearably sweaty. Today is about 95 degrees, which really isn't too terrible - but the humidity is through the clouds (or lack thereof?).


Every moment of the last 3 days has been punctuated by the realization that I have sweat rolling down my body constantly. I'm not moving, I can be sitting in the shade yet still sweat constantly coats my body. I'm beginning to feel like my skin and the air have become one big moist mess. And I hate it.


My campers, however, apparently don't even notice it. Maybe small children don't realize how much they sweat, or maybe they sweat less, not a clue. I do know that they seem much less miserable in the heat. It's amazing what doesn't bother little kids. As much as I am here to influence these kids, I can't help but notice that they are also teaching me.


I get to stop and pet a crawdad (yeah, you can pet those).
And appreciate the sparkly rocks. (Okay, I've been admiring those since I was 4)
If it makes their day to chuck wet sponges at my body trying to win a game, then so be it.

I might be trying to tell them about modesty (inner beauty being a major theme this week),
and making sure they're relatively hygienic, but they like to remind me to giggle and have some fun.


We might be nasty and sweaty and uncomfortable, but somehow that doesn't ruin their day. So, get off this blog, go play with a rock and laugh a little. Be a kid again.

Storm

In every storm, there lies a calm. A few years ago, I arrived at church to head over to STL for a youth praise service, but tornadoes began to roll in and instead we needed to stay at the church. I found myself standing in the parking lot with my mother admiring the swirling green sky and pondering if that cloud out in the distance was, in fact, a tornado. Where we stood was completely calm. The wind was a bit gusty, but otherwise, no rain, thunder, or lightening obstructed an otherwise calm evening.

This weekend I stayed down at Camp Ne-O-Tez between two weeks of camp. Last night, we had a rather hefty storm. Myself and three other girls who stayed need to move from one side of camp to another. We found a moment where the rain let up, and we made our run for it. But, we didn't make it far before the sight of Crystal Falls stopped us in our tracks. Just that afternoon we had been viewing a calm, clear barely flowing crystal falls (See first picture). Now, water gushed across it creating white crested waves that raced through camp. Parts of the creek, normally only being about ankle deep, were flowing at over waist deep.

This morning, I noted the calm Crystal falls, still more active than usual, but exceedingly calm compared to last night (See second picture). And the story of Jesus calming the storm drifted into my mind. For Crystal Falls, the water was calm after the storm, but it will take hours maybe a day or so for the water to return to normal. But for the disciples, the calm came during the storm. Imagine just ofr a minute how incredible that really is. The story can be read in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, but all end on the same note: the disciples were terrified and in wonderment of who Jesus was that even the wind and the waves stopped at his words. Think about that. You're standing in a tornado and the man with you says: "Wind. Be still." And instantly it is.

As my mother and I wondered if that cloud was a funnel cloud or not, a tornado destroyed a building 10 minutes across town. People are trapped in storms everywhere, desperately searching for some sort of peace. We may be standing in the calm for now, but someone else is battling the storm.

A lesson on Aliens

A couple weeks ago, a friend and I went and saw Super 8. I loved it; I never like sci-fi flicks, but I loved it. It wasn't trying too terribly hard to be some great sci-fi, alien rampage, end of the world insanity. It's about an alien that wants to go home (Yeah, sounds like E.T. but not, I'm aware). In fact, we never even see the alien until the movie is almost over. It's a movie about aliens that is really about the other people.


Middle School week is winding down. It's friday morning. My campers now hate my co-counselors and I I'm sure for waking them up with our rendition of rebecca black's Friday. But, today is going to be an excellent last day. I mentioned last post that there's something different down at camp. I found it: Aliens. This week's theme is Aliens. In middle school lingo it's a way to say, when we follow God, we are aliens in our culture because our home is elsewhere than Earth.


It is amazing to watch these kids work out that truth. That we are different, that we are not of this world. There's a Thrice song that gets me everytime with the words:

No point in putting roots too deep when I'm movin' on

Not settling for this unsettling town

My Heart is filled with songs of forever

A city that endures when all it made new

I know I don't belong here

I'll never call this place my home

I'm just passing through

I have roots. I have roots in this world. I have things and people and places I've rooted my hope and my trust and my faith deeply into. God is one of those things. He's even the biggest. But I still have roots in the world, because, to be completely honest, it's hard to pull all those roots out. Funny how we might just be a little like Super 8. We're just trying to get home - but, unless we pull out our roots, the world won't even see our alien side until its almost the end.

40 Days

40 Days.
That's a pretty long time when I really start to think about it. Last summer, I spent exactly 40 days at Camp Ne-O-Tez. Otherwise fondly referred to by many of my friends at home as God Camp or "that one place you go all summer." I had intended to post this before I left, but, ah well, change of plans (Let's be honest, I procrastinated - on the upside I have my laptop for school reasons and intend to post periodically).

This summer I'm not spending nearly 40 days down here. Those 40 days included a week as a camper, 3.5 weeks as a counselor, one week wasing dishes, and a couple random extra days that topped it off at 40.

Biblically Appropriate? I thought so.

Here I am, Day One (well, technically two) of camp. I'm up early to do a little work for my online class before all the excitement starts for the day.

Last summer, I learned quite a bit. 40 Days prepared me to leave for college. It took me out of my own, Kelsey-revolving world, and let me focus on God and the campers. I did quite a few different jobs, I counseled, I camped, I washed dishes, I assisted the cooks, I played nurse for a couple days, and I helped run some activities. More importantly, I learned the value of attitude, I taught, I was a friend, I made friends, I needed friends, I enjoyed a trip to the doctor, I cleaned, I sweated, and I saw God.

When I think of seeing God, I think of being down here in this valley, not the top of some mountain somewhere. It's not a perfect valley, the bugs can be bad, last night was hot and humid, so sleeping was a little rough, but something is different here. Last summer, I breathed that something different.


40 Days. I think Jesus in the desert being tempted. I think 40 days of fasting. I'm thinking maybe last summer's 40 days was my fast from the "real world" to be in touch with a different world, and that I came out of it ready to handle anything.

I anticipate great things this summer. I hope you do too and come along for my journey.

Motivated by Curiosity

When I was 3, my mother was desperate to put in into pre-school. Okay, maybe not desperate, but she was fairly eager. I don't blame her; I was probably somewhat of a handful with my incessant monologues.
I remember liking preschool pretty well. Mother tells me that one day I came running out of school very excited and I exclaimed to her: "Mom! I did something I've never done before!"
Pleased that I was expanding horizons, she asked what that was.
"I sat in time-out!"

Yes. I was pretty proud of this. I was not so proud in middle school when I recieved a detention for the first time, but that's another story entirely. For the most part, I remember preschool, elementary school, junior high, and even high school pretty fondly. I always did find homeschooling intriguing; I even thought about trying it (for about .05 seconds) when I started 8th grade.

Last night, a new "schooling" concept caught my eye, Unschooling.
Google it for awhile and you'll find an interesting array of results, but here's your basics:
1. No structure, lesson plans, or textbooks
2. The kids pick their interests and learn that way
3. The parent does not force learning
4. the kid decides what's best for the kid

It's a curious idea. It appears to be a great theory; I'm just not sure about how well it works in practice.

Some moms end up with very curious, intelligent, and motived children. But, I can't help but wonder how many are more like this blogger suggests.

I did pretty well in school (still do). I spend free time reading articles and studying up on random areas of psychology. But, this is a new development in my life. Yes I was curious when I was younger, but I'm thinking I would have been an unschooler who sat with a box on my head for 3 hours and then watched some tv.

The reason I hesitate to say that letting a child's interest and curiosity motivate learning is simple. I love piano. I could talk music longer than just about any other subject I know. But, my study of music should be attributed to a structured lesson plan and coursework. When I do not have lessons, I never accomplish any pieces (this is based on what happened everytime I was between teachers....which means I looked at the piano and said: gee, I really like piano. And then watched some more tv). Without someone pushing me, I do not make much progress in the musical world.

My curiosity on this matter is great; my concern is rather simple. What about the unschoolers who don't show much interest? What about the unschooler who is exceptional at math but cannot write intelligently? How well can these kids do in college and the workplace where there are restrictions and expectations? Do these parents ensure a well-rounded education?

I am all for fostering curiosity and discovery. Which is what proponents of unschooling call "natural learning." Most children will be naturally curious and want to explore and learn, but is that enoguh to thrive in our society? I acknowledge our school system is flawed, but will this help?

Traditional schooling forced me to take a variety of classes I was compeltely uninterested in, but I would consider myself a better person for it. I know more about life and the world than just what interests and effects me, and that counts for a little in life.

In Preschool new experiences excited me. Getting put in time-out excited me. Can this enthusiasm be channeled effectively into a model of schooling unlike anything most of us grew up with experiencing?

Made into What?

Guilty Pleasure Secret #18: In my spare time, I enjoy watching MTV's Made.

That's right kids, I have been home from college for 1.5 weeks and have already wasted several hours on this show.

Today on the show, they hosted a Made dance competition - pitting 3 teens who have zero dance experience against each other on their quest to gaining skills in the hip-hop arena.

As the last girl gets ready, he coach describes her progress:

"When we first met, she was so shy. She was a goody-goody, the Deacon's daughter. She was known more for her faith than anything else."

He says this like it's some horrible insult to be known for your faith. But, sure enough, she strutted her way onto the stage in shorts that might make your neighborhood volleyball star jealous. When it came time for her to comment on her newfound confidence, she states that:

"If being confident is being sassy and sexy - then I'm okay with that."

I am all for dreams and wanting to expand your abilities. But, the peopleo n this show act as though being known for her faith and they equate a sexy attitude with having confidence. When did this become the case? Better yet, why are so many Christians okay with and embracing it?

Intersection Improvement?

Patience is a virtue.

Periodically, this becomes my mantra in life because I am not, in fact, patient. I like life to run on my schedule and my plan. Tonight, I was out driving with a friend and we were stuck at a red light. Cars waited on our side and across the intersection while the lanes with a green light had absolutely no one driving in them. I hate nights like that - sometimes I seriously contemplate just gunning it and hoping no cops are in the area. But, then I found this picture.We could have used this.

Happiness Is Never Grand

In high school, I was a bit of a nerd. Okay, probably an understatement, but I like to try and salvage my dignity every now and then. English happened to be my favorite classes, but I won't bore all two of you who read this with excessive intellectual nonsense (plus, that would take effort and I'm a low effort kind of kid). Moving on.

On of my favorite books is Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. It's a classic, a little controversial, and definately a paradigm challenger - all the qualities I need in a novel.

Lately, I've been pondering happiness and success. Or, better put - what really matters in life.

Huxley writes:
"Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the over-compensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn't nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a good struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand."

Happiness is never grand.
So then, my question is, what does happiness look like? Your turn to ponder.

Mother Monster : All of Self and Less of Thee

Mother Monster. Lady Gaga refers to herself with this name at the beginning of her latest hit single: Born This Way. (Yes, this link doesn't go directly to her music video, two reasons: 1. I like these Youtube fellows, they make good covers, and 2. You can Youtube her actual music video for youself - be warned, it's one of a kind) And by one of a kind - I mean - a very freaky intro, Lady Gaga riding a unicorn at one point, and a mildly disturbing message.

I am all about loving yourself. Please, let's love you and me and everyone. We are all different and unique and all that exciting whatnot that makes us lovely humans who we are. One stanza in partular bothers me: "I was born this way, God makes no mistakes, I'm on the right track, Baby, I was born this way!"

Anyone else not totally comfortable with this one? Ponder with me how many millions of younger adolescents are seeing this video and thinking: I am who I am because I'm born this way. And, however that may be, it's an excellent way to be.

Long gone are the days of self-improvement. Of wanting to be a better or different person. Of striving for more than self-gratification.

While I enjoy a good random dance party to pop music as much as the next kid, I can't help but notice what the industry is telling us.

How about Mike Posner's chorus in Cooler than me?

I used up all of my tricks, I hope that you like this But you probably won't, you think you're cooler than me

Or Ke$sha's We R who we R?

You know We're superstars We R who we R!

Imagine a world where we are all so completely self-absorbed in who we are and how great it is to be me that that becomes our focus. Scary, eh?

How much better off could we be if we gave glory to God for who we are and move on? Because I am born this way, I am not perfect. Saying "I am born this way" begins to glorify me, and allow me to be lazy because this is just who I am - I was born this way.

As people, do we need a society built on exaultation of self?

Personally, I'd rather not live such a shallow existence. As Christians, what does this tell the world? I'm reminded of the old hymn that humbly ends: none of self and all of Thee.

Britian's Talent and a Drive Through Rural Arkansas

This is my view heading home from school. A nice, flat, scenery-less expanse. Just, me, the road, and the sky. And a few fields. And usually an unreasonable number of semi-trucks.

This weekend, I road-tripped home, and on the way back I drove. I hate driving, specifically interstate driving. It makes me all nervous and twitchy and, let's be honest, I don't need to be any more twitchy than I already am. But, alas, I drove. For four hours I battled the blustering winds and the fierce fatigue and speeded my way back to school while my older brother slept and his bride-to-be wrote thank you cards. Somewhere in the boonies of Arkansas, I found myself stuck behind a semi. He wasn't driving slow per se; it was simply the meer fact of being stuck driving behind this hulking blue piece of metal that perterbed me. This produced a dilema for my interstate-abhorring driving abilities (of which are very limited) - to pass or not to pass? I could not decide. Granted, I cannot decide on a good many issues, but this seemed like one that could really use some resolution.

I decided pass. Easier said than done on a two lane road. But, I decided and spent the subsequent half hour attempting - unsuccessfully - to pass him. At one point, I pulled into the other lane with no oncoming traffic to be seen (and the view out of my windshield gives new meaning to the phrase: "as far as the eye can see"), and I hit the gas. As I got a little less than halfway, I saw a car approaching, I checked my speedometer, and proceeded to panic. In that order, probably in slow motion. Luckily, the other lane only contained the semi since I proceeded to brake and veer back behind him - knuckles white with very awake and alert siblings.

I should have gone for it. For a good portion of the remaining drive, I pondered the concept of going for things - grades, relationships, dreams, whatever. Instead, I saw my opportunity, thought about it, and said "nah, I'll get another chance to pass later"

Britian has some Talent. Their show (similar to America's Got Talent) always seems full of suprises. This fellow went for it - and left me flabbergasted.

He had one shot to live out his dream. His dream was completely unexpected. I love seeing people do incredible things - especially completely unexpected dreams. But, if we skip our shot thinking, "well, I'll just take the next one" when do we stop panicking just as we approach the side of the truck and just keep going?

I never passed that semi. Shortly after my failed attempt, I stopped at a gas station and never saw the truck again. In my four hours of driving, I learned a nice lesson - re-taught to me by the most unexpected singing voice I've ever heard - follow through and go for whatever it is you want to be doing. To be completely honest, life isn't worth sitting behind the semi when we could go a little faster.

To my Dear Friends of Facebook,

To My Dear Friends of Facebook,

In typical college student on break fashion, I spend a fair amount of time on Facebook. Facebook is wonderful world - it keeps me entertained for hours, it allows me to keep up with old friends, it insures I know everyone's business without having to talk to them - all in all, it's a dream come true for most of us. But, I would assume that you know this since we're "friends."

But, it's time to be completely honest about what is tainting this informative little virtual world...

I do not care about your favorite band.
I do not care that you want me to care.
I do not care that you think this band is the best band ever formed.
Actually, the fact that you've updated your Facebook page every hour to proclaim your undying dedication to said band and how I too should follow your passion just makes me hate your music.

I do not need to view 20 song lyrics from the same crappy band to know your mood.
I understand that you're social - but you needn't attend every event ever created. (We are all attending 11:11:11 on 11/11/11 whether or not we really want to - no need to rsvp)
Please understand, some things simply do not need to be documented in photograph form- 30 identical times.

We have an overposting and an oversharing problem. Please, share one of these fun facts. Please share two. But, people - people please - this is TMI (Too much info, for you new kids out there), and it's beginning to drive me crazy.

Let's stop this info-overload. Thank you.

Lights Out

Count the electrical outlets in your room.
My not-so-huge-but-not-obnoxiously-tiny dorm room has approximately 9. Not to mention one outlet has a power strip connected to it.

It's rather late on a Friday night, or Saturday morning I suppose if you want to get into technicalities (which I don't, it's late...anywho). My phone is plugged in and charging. My laptop is plugged in and I'm using one of my two ethernet cable outputs. I have a lamp, blowdryer, coffee maker, microwave, Zune HD charger, speakers, digital piano, and a mini fridge all sucking up energy. Oh, and my rather bright flourescent overhead light it allowing my room to be brighter than 2pm on a June afternoon.

What if I didn't have that power?
Look at what you have plugged in - what would you be doing if your power disappeared?

Last night about half of campus and the surrounding city lost power. Driving through campus and seeing that suddenly the street lights stop and a dark abyss of dorms and parking lots loom in the distance might just be one of the creepiest moments of my life.

I have never in my life noticed how much of a difference light pouring out from behind cheap plastic blinds and pretty curtains makes.

Being forced into utter darkness makes us uncomfortable. Suddenly we're isolated and uneasy and unable to see clearly what's ahead.

Tonight, most people have left campus. We have power, but almost every room is dark, thus it looks pretty similar to last night only with street lights, and I don't feel like a potential apocalypse might be occuring. So, it's better, but still creepy.

I've seen more of the stars in the last two nights than I have in a long time. There's something to remembering that we're all a part of something so much bigger than just our little worlds. Behind each window is a person, with a life and a story and a purpose. Maybe a blackout is an excellent chance to realize that as a people we're so plugged into our world that we forget to unplug every now and then and see the world from a new angle.

Hello? Hello? Is anybody out there?

As a wee child, I had the reputation in my family as being something of a chatterbox. Apparently, I just talked, and talked, and talked. Hard to imagine for you all, I'm sure. But all this chatter wears on a mother's ears and most days my mother would smile and nod and have no earthly idea what was coming out of my mouth. Every so often though, I would get that sense that all my babbling was being ignored, and I would ask my mother: "Are you listening to me?"

Being the wonderful mother that she is and not wishing to lie to her daughter, she always replied with: "No, I'm not." I would then continue to talk as if the exchange had never occured.



I just wanted to talk. I was curious if mother was listening to me, but I did not really care if she was or was not.



So often I catch myself asking people questions and not listening to the answers, or finishing a conversation and realizing just how much I talked.



So often it seems that we care more about the quantity of our words than their quality, or we're just throwing out empty words to avoid silence.

And, even more often, we care more about what can we say instead of what someone else could share. You know those people - the ones that have their next sentence/story/response ready while you're still trying to speak.



This summer in my Bible readings I noticed so many writers calling out to God: "Are you listening? Do you hear me?"

We want to be heard, to know that our pains, struggles, joys, and triumphs are being acknowledged.

It seems to me that we talk about talking quite a bit. But, how often to we talk about listening?



My question is this -

in all the jumble, are we listening?

Or do we hear words and never take them in?

Are we listening for God or are we just yelling at him to listen to us?

Are we straining our ears to really listen to people?

my young self didn't care about being listened to - I was all about the sheer quantity of things to say, but in all my talking, I was never listening. I was not even hearing anything around me. Maybe it's time instead of barking at God to listen to us, we take a moment to try and even hear Him.

Fresh Start

As a wee child, my elementary school posted the list of students in each class a couple of weeks before the beginning of the year. I think - I'm not completely positive because all I remember is begging my mother to take me to look for the lists on a daily basis starting sometime probably in July. I loved the first day of school. Something about packing fresh boxes of crayons, tidy bags of supplies, and stacks of blank, untouched paper just got me excited. I could not wait to pack up my bag and head to that first day of class and meet my teacher and see my friends.

Now, a decade later, I'm not quite as excited. Do not get me wrong, I still love school. My inner nerd still comes out sometimes eagerly finishing my homework. I still want to learn and discover, but I no longer enjoy that first day of classes.

I hate having to get new supplies, meet new teachers, meet new peers, and readjust. (Maybe I'm just becoming old and stuck in my ways already. Probably not the best scenario. Anywho.)

Christmas break was a glorious four week holiday. My new and improved schedule usually involved a minimum of 10 hours of sleep and a maximum productivity of about two tasks being accomplished. Tomorrow, since it is already almost 1:30am, I am facing about six hours of sleep and having to complete at least four classes (and the homework some determined teacher will inevitably assign).

To say the least, I am not excited.

On the flip side, I am pumped for a few aspects of tomorrow.
Here's what I am excited about:
Tomorrow is a fresh start. Tomorrow I am not behind in a single class. Tomorrow is a new semester with new opportunity. This semester I have more hours, harder classes, and a job. Oh, and I have a thing called a social life. This spring is looking a little rough. Just a smidge. If we're being honest - which I suppose the blog title implies we are - I am a little nervous. To say the least, I'm a little overbooked for this semester. But, I am so excited to see what happens. I also have big plans for this spring. People have come in and out of my life in a way that I can only describe as a God thing, and for that I am so thankful and so excited to see where that takes me. Tomorrow starts a new semester. It starts my life as Kelsey - college freshman semester two. Kelsey- the RA. Kelsey - the ambitious double major. And, Kelsey - the friend.

I know it's a long night my dedicated readers. You probably have class tomorrow too. I have no clue what the day will hold, or the future, but that's the beauty of life. We never know. So, I am going to go to bed and hopefully awaken with some of my youthful peppy-ness and tomorrow might just be an excellent day. Tomorrow, my friends, is a fresh start.

Hum Along

Hey there folks. See? You knew I'd post again eventually.

Actually, I'll pause here for you to let out your sigh of disappointment: this is going to be a pretty short post. I'm working on other posts, promise, but the exciting world of sleep and relaxation has kept me from doing much of anything lately.

Moving on...we have little to get through, but none of us want to listen to me ramble off excuses as to why there aren't more posts on here. I mean, would it be so hard to have thrown a few words, maybe a picture, a thoughtful song lyric, something up here? No, no I suppose it wouldn't have been, but this my friends, this is how life works. Think of it as a poorly planned cliffhanger - just waiting to see what topic I'll come up with next! See? Aren't we all much more excited now? Now, seriously, on to my (very) brief point...


Tonight, I was surfing around the internet (as every good college student does on a nightly basis), and I came across one of my friends. (Okay, so we don't talk terribly often now, but at one point we were pretty good friends, anyway - not the point) He is trying to make it in the music industry. I listened to some of his music, walked away, and continued to Hum Along to one of his latest songs.

This made me happy. So, tonight, let's celebrate the small successes in life - like finding a song that's a little catchy and different. Enjoy.

Feral Oath's Hum Along