To my neighbors:

Sometimes, I go to bed and hear you talking. You girls giggle and cry, and talk in a flurry of frustrated emotions on the phone late into the night. Once late enough, we pound on the wall repeatedly, in the hopes that you will eventually hear, and at least quiet your murmurs.

Tonight, we pounded for a different reason. There are some sounds that the twisted muse about hearing, but for the sake of the general population, should be kept to yourself. Please keep it that way.

Sincerely,
Those on the other side.

And until then.. life continues.
One sickness is slowing, the other rapidly gaining.
Scheduling for the summer, grad school application, homework... all to be put off til Friday.

Thursday afternoon will be a good time to let out a deep breath.

a scene from last weekend..

Weekend in Denver - so much information, so little sleep.
Upcoming weekend - so much homework, so little time.
Upcoming summer - so much planned, so little known.

Question of the night:

D: Where do you see yourself in ten years?
C: Uh.. I don't think that far ahead.
D: Five?
C: Um...
D: Two?
C: Okay, I can try to answer that... Just finishing grad school or finishing my first year as a teacher. Maybe married. I will have cats, that is for sure. Wow I sound lame.

...conversation continues...

C: Oh wait, I know where I might be in ten years: either dead or in jail.
D: Umm..
C: Hopefully in the name of Jesus of course.
D: Of course..

There's something so calming about showering in complete darkness and positioning your head perfectly under the water so it runs over both ears and allows all other sounds to be muffled.

A number of papers and projects to work on this weekend. Finished a 5 pager yesterday, am doing a 10 pager today, and then have a 6ish page essay for tomorrow. I'm most concerned about tomorrow's. Then i also have two art projects/lesson plan and a book review to work on sometime soon.. Those aren't as immediate though.

Anyway, I wanted to share some sugar for the eyes.
I made this at the beginning of the month. It's an indestructible and everlasting (or at least as long as gummy bears last) gummy bear cake :)


Team China went on a retreat the other weekend. It was a great time of bonding and learning.
 
This is our team. Wo, Hilary, Tor, Justin, Lisa, and Rachel.

Otherwise.. I've recently decided that boys are so much easier to live with. I suppose when rationality reigns greater than emotions in a household, that would make sense. I do, however, appreciate the depth of friendship that comes with such emotional exposure.. (oh! Tor^ is one of my roommates :)

Other than that.. just thinking of how to approach this season of Lent. Yes, I'm a few days late.

...a follow up on Dhanyr, wo de ai's, post.


I think we also accompanied such predictions with something about children. Good luck, and I suggest avoiding the Cassin way (they probably wouldn't recommended it!)

The first time I did it, I didn't even think.
I just needed some relief.

It hurt...but not that badly.
It's just that I'd been hurt before,
and usually his name started with a J or an M or sometimes a T.

With his eyes looking just over my left shoulder,
or in his own hands hoping that I would understand...
and that we could leave the table and just be friends.

I would smile and nod and try to avoid the eyes that once held me
and shaped me underneath "I love yous"
and it felt like I had been stabbed right here in the pit of my stomach
as if my insides would spill out onto the floor,
but I held it together.

And I absorbed the pain underneath my skin
though it burned and itched trying to get out.

So I tried it one day.

I pressed the blade against my arm
and watched a thin line appear.

A beautiful bright red against my flesh.
Like I had drawn it with a marker.

So I did it again and again.

The first time I must have made eight cuts.
And the pain, it felt good because I was in control.
I did it with my own hands.

So from there, I became an 'artist'.
My body was "my canvas".
I started with my arms
moving to my legs
and my stomach.
Tattooed scars etched and scratched into my flesh.
Each time with pain,
each time with fear that I would stop feeling.
That I would become numb again.

So I carved my scribbles with permanent ink.
Link small battle lines drawn
against the pain outside that turned to rusted, jagged stains.

And I wanted to start over.
To shake myself like an etch-a-scetch,
but the scabs clung tightly to my skin.

I tried to hide my scars with long sleeves
holding the tips with my fingers,
or wearing long pants even in the hot summers...

Until... I met him.



He put healing salve on my wounds
whispering that I was already a finished work of art
with every detail carefully drawn and molded.
That I didn't have to hide.

I was still beauty.

And so I wear my scars now,
like tracks leading to my soul.
Becoming a book to those who can decipher the symbols
and telling my story to those who care to hear.

- Mosaic

There are some things in church that stand out vividly in your long-term memory. This was one of them.

I realize 21 isn't old. But I think I wasted all my staying-up-late-type nights in high school. 5am rolled around too quickly.. and my roommate and I are becoming kookier by the minute.

Writing my senior sem paper.. I post a self-picture because I think my late night/early morning style should be a new trend.