Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Ten days later...

Sometimes you just have to blog...

You know, a blog isn't really a journal, its just a snapshot. Like, "here is what I am thinking right now" or "here is something that happened just recently that really made me think." I'm not sure I entirely understand it, after all, I am working off of four hours of sleep and two table spoons of Nyquil here.

Sometimes I don't blog because I just have to danged much to say. I can't keep up with everything, so I just leave my blogging for a day or ten. But I always come back to you, my (faithful?) readers, because mostly you are the ones that care... :) Its also an easy out for explaining really ocmplicated emotions or thoughts.

I struggle with eternity, with beauty, life and death, with belief, and faith. I fight a daily battle to control my emotions and my fears. Things seem to pile up, making every little problem so much bigger in the realm of "inside my head." And then there are the good things. Moments of light, of happiness. Even when I am feeling the very worst, there may be something that can make me smile.

I have had as much a reason for joy as for tears of late. There are bad things, and they are numerous. There always are. But there are also good things, things that bring joy and peace. So, thats why I haven't blogged lately.

I guess I just don't know what to say.

Be good, watch TV.

Monday, September 13, 2004

Esplunashun

So, the previous two entrys are the same story, one in Spanish, the other English. I wrote the whole thing in Spanish, and realized that it sounded really silly when I translated it... but I think it is better in Spanish. Anyway, I only translated it so that y'all could understand what it said SO... here it is!

Be good, Watch TV

Snapshots

He was an old man now. He was an ordinary man, with hair the color of slate and wrinkled skin. The boxes that covered the coffee table were a testament to his life, a life that had spanned more than eighty years. He was tired. He was going to die soon.

As he leaned over to put his cup on the table, the closest box fell over, spilling its contents. The man couldn't help but notice the faces of the people in the pictures staring up at him. He picked up one photograph, and then another, and another, and he began to remember.

He remembered when he had begun to take pictures. It was the wedding of his brother. The people were joyful. The bride was beautiful. His brother was happy. And the man was alone. He continued to look at the pictures. There were pictures of weddings, of chirstenings, of funerals, of parties. There were pictures of babies, lovers, old people, animals, the heavens, and anything else a man could possibly photograph.

The man recalled how the years had passed, and how he continued to take pictures. As a photographer he had become famous for his beautiful work. He could capture the soul in one of his photographs. But he always watched life through the lens of his camera. Nobody knew the photographer, and the photographer didn't know anyone. And now he was old.

He let the pictures fall from his hand. He suddenly realized that while he had been so busy photographing the lives of others, life itself had passed him by. A single tear dripped slowly down his wrinkled cheek. Only his photographs saw him close his eyes for the last time. Only his photographs saw him die.

Fotografías

Él ahora era un viejo hombre. Estaba ordinario, con pelo estaba el color de pizarra y piel arrugada. Las cajas que habían apilado encima de la mesa ratona eran un testamento de su vida, una vida que había alcanzado más de ochenta años. Estaba cansado. Pronto él morirá.

Como él se inclinó para colocar su taza encima de la mesa, una caja próxima se cayó, se derramando el contenido. El hombre notaba las caras de la gente lo miraron de las fotografías. Le alzó una fotografía y otro y otro y el empezaba recordar.

Recordó cuando el había empezado a tocar las fotografías. Estaba a la boda de su hermano. La gente estuvo alegre. La novia estuvo hermosa. Su hermano estuvo feliz. Y el hombre era solo. Él continuaba a mirar a los fotografías. Fueron fotografías de las bodas, los bautismos, los funerales, las fiestas. El fotografiaba los niños, los novios, los viejos, los animales, el cielo y todas las cosas un hombre podía fotografiar.

El hombre recordó como los años pasaron y el continuaba a tocar las fotografías. El fotógrafo se ponía muy famoso porque su fotografías estaban muy hermoso. Él apresaba la alma del todo fotografió. Pero el siempre miraba vida a través de la lente de su cámara. Nadie sabían el fotógrafo, y el sabía nadie. Y ahora era un viejo.

Él dejó las fotografías caer de su mano. De repente realizó que mientras él había ocupado fotografiando las vidas de otras, la vida lo había pasado. Una lágrima solo goteó lentamente abajo su mejilla arrugada. Solamente sus fotografías lo miraron cerrarse los ojos por la última vez. Solamente sus fotografías lo vieron morir.

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Well

I tried to post something earlier, but blogger was being all funky with their "errors" so I had to just, well... I gave up. *nods* Anyway. I really like the word anyway. And so. So. See? Its like the perfect transition word. With just two little letters it says "I'm tired of talking about this, lets move on. And I don't have enough patience to lead from one topic to another." So.

I have Spanish class in a half hour. A half hour! Its too soon. I haven't missed any classes this semester, although I have missed chapel twice. Once because I didn't want to go, and one because I didn't feel well. That was this morning. I think I have to go to the nurse again, because I am still sick and I've finished my medicine. And also, my mom really wants me to get those bloodtests done. Ick! Did I write about that? I don't remember... Well, in case you don't know, the nurse thinks I have diabetes. Weird, eh? Or she said maybe there is something wrong with my Thyroid... whatever that means. I don't actually know. Not that you want to know anything about my health problems.

I died my hair last night. No, not dyed, died. See, I tried to go back to my natural color, but its DARK!!! Like, very very dark. A chestnutty black. Or something. That I could live with, but it STREAKED. Thats right, I still have blond streaks in my hair. Its horrible! You can't really tell when its up (which it has been all day) but I can't wear it down, in any fashion. Its so painful to me.

What happened to my perky optimism of the beginning of the semester or... yesterday. *shakes head* I don't know, but I want it back. I don't like being depressed... but I am fighting it. I will win! *mad laughter*

Be good, watch TV!

A Riddle Song

That which eludes this verse and any verse,
Unheard by sharpest ear, unform'd in clearest eye or cunningest mind,
Nor lore nor fame, nor happiness nor wealth,
And yet the pulse of every heart and life throughout the world incessantly,
Which you and I and all pursuing ever ever miss,
Open but still a secret, the real of the real, an illusion,
Costless, vouchsafed to each, yet never man the owner,
Which poets vainly seek to put in rhyme, historians in prose,
Which sculptor never chisel'd yet, nor painter painted,
Which vocalist never sung, nor orator nor actor ever utter'd,
Invoking here and now I challenge for my song.
Indifferently, 'mid public, private haunts, in solitude,

Behind the mountain and the wood,
Companion of the city's busiest streets, through the assemblage,
It and its radiations constantly glide.

In looks of fair unconscious babes,
Or strangely in the coffin'd dead,
Or show of breaking dawn or stars by night,
As some dissolving delicate film of dreams,
Hiding yet lingering.

Two little breaths of words comprising it.
Two words, yet all from first to last comprised in it.

How ardently for it!
How many ships have sail'd and sunk for it!
How many travelers started from their homes and ne'er return'd!
How much of genius boldly staked and lost for it!
What countless stores of beauty, love, ventur'd for it!
How all superbest deeds since
Time began are traceable to it--and shall be to the end!
How all heroic martyrdoms to it!
How, justified by it, the horrors, evils, battles of the earth!
How the bright fascinating lambent flames of it, in every age and land, have drawn men's eyes, Rich as a sunset on the Norway coast, the sky, the islands, and the cliffs,
Or midnight's silent glowing northern lights unreachable.

Haply God's riddle it, so vague and yet so certain,
The soul for it, and all the visible universe for it,
And heaven at last for it.

~Walt Whitman

Monday, September 06, 2004

....Epiphany...

Late on night I had a notion, an epiphany would be a better word...

There is someone else I should be saying this too, at least, before I put it on here for all the world to see, to know... and he will likely read this before I ever say it to him. And maybe I'm wrong, but sometimes things are so hard to say on the phone, and I couldn't ruin the short time that I had with him... so without further ado.

My epiphany.

Things have been said that have lead me to believe that Nathan plans on proposing to me eventually. I say this knowing perfectly well that he plans on it, but it seemed easier to be vague. I don't know when, but everything seems to be pointing that way. So, when I first began to have an inkling that this was a distinct possibility (it was awhile ago) I started to get, well, freaked out. I thought seeing him in July would help me sort out what I was thinking and feeling, but it only confused me more. Inside it was almost a feeling of impending dread, and I can't explain it any better than that. Than I went through a long period of not being able to talk to Nathan... maybe no more than brief conversations for something like a month. Fast forward to this weekend:

I asked Shannon if I could go home with her to Tarkio to visit Tara. A couple of hours later, someone asked me something about Nathan, and a lightbulb flickered in my brain, enlightening me to the fact that Nathan had told me he was going to Tarkio not two days earlier. So, I called him and told him that I, too, would be in Tarkio. What I didn't tell him was that seeing him was going to force me to make a decision that could affect us both.

Backing up again.

I don't really like taking little rabbit trails to explain things. (thats a lie) But this time, I have to. See, God has been doing a lot in my life this summer... I haven't talked about it much, afraid of jinxing it maybe. But I have started analyzing things in my life, asking God what needs to go and what needs to stay. Can you see where this is going? It wasn't just this, but it was one of the majoring things that started making me question my relationship with Nathan. Back to the story.

So, I only got to spend about an hour or so with him walking around Tarkio on Saturday night. And things were good. Better. And I had been praying for God to give me the strength to do what I needed to do, whatever it was. Things are better. It probably doesn't seem like much to you. The entire situation happened inside of me, and very few people (no one, actually) really knew anything about it. But it was important to me. See, I had to give my relationship with Nathan to God, no matter what the cost. And I did, and things are better. I feel right now. I'm not afriad that dating is going to affect my relationship with God.

Be good, watch TV.

I love you, Nathan