I can't explain this day.

I feel dark, and twisty, and unseen.

I don't ever really feel like 'fixing' a bad day by drinking, but today I did. (Ended up not getting anything to drink tonight.)

I feel ugly and mediocre; and I don't listen to people when they talk. I feel hopeless.

thoughts.

- There is not a single cell within me that chooses good.

- I am tired of my shame> guilt> self-flagellation cycle.

- I just want a piece of self-respect.

- God, I really really need you to come and get me.

I don't really want anyone to ask me about my semester. I don't want to have to explain anything of what I felt, went through, or anything. I don't want to do it because I can't even explain it to myself.

I found myself wanting to pretend as if the whole thing didn't happen.

I don't want anyone to ask me for photographs. Or stories. Or to see my passport.

Shit- is this how I'm supposed to feel? It wasn't even that bad.

I'm f--ked.

I wanna go back to Chicago where people talk to me less and expect less of my emotions.

I hate for this to be so awful.




But I can't fucking stand me anymore.

Woke up at 4:45am today to be at Angkor Wat for sunrise. It seems that I have a habit of leaving my sweater on the days that I'm on the back of open vehicles in the cold. I watched dawn come over the temple sitting on the steps of the old library, surrounded by European and Japanese tourists. One woman kept making comments like "Yeah- that's all. Only every now and then is the sunrise extraordinary." I wandered and asked random people to take my photo.

On my way out, my heart leapt when I heard American accents and found them attached to Asian-American people. Whenever someone asks me where I'm from, their face drops a little into confusion when I say "America"; and I have to explain that my parents are from the Philippines. Which feels weird- having to make that distinction between my parents and I to strangers feels bizarre- as if we aren't really a family because we're from these 2 places. Whenever I say I was born in the States, I want to stop and say "but I grew up in an enclave." I wondered if the group that walked past me felt the same thing.

Being at the ruins makes me wonder about what really lasts, and who will matter in the end. I wonder about what will our buildings look like when the century passes. How will skyscrapers deteriorate? What will the anthropologists say about us? About what kind of people we were? I'm afraid about knowing.

Thankfully, because I went so early, vendors were sparse- and I avoided them for the most part. I also did my best to avoid other tourists. I already walked around feeling like I was intruding. It was refreshing to be in a place without spotlights and red ropes and knowing that Angkor is still a sacred place to many people; but at the same time, whenever I turned a corner to find a broken buddha dressed in gold with incense at its feet, I wouldn't linger for long.

Ta Phrom (the temple with the big trees) was the busiest and felt the most touristy with its guard ropes and wood platforms for photos. I just wished everyone would -leave-; all I wanted was to take a nap at the steps, but that wasn't gonna happen. Beautiful places make me wish there were less people around. Less voices, less shutter clicks. Not that less people would have fixed anything, the renovations being done caused a constant industrial white noise.

By 11, I was exhausted. I came back to the hotel to take care of my bus ticket to Vietnam.

Visas just aren't my friends.

Cambodia REFUSED to give my visa for $20 like I heard is the real price- instead made me pay $32.

Now, turns out the Vietnam visa on arrival is only available if you fly, everyone else has to have their visa processed for 3 days. So, I'm in Siam Reap an extra day than I planned.

I feel resigned to my extra day, but I already want to leave. I can't really take the dust and the noise of Siam Reap right now. My introvert side is showing. I can tell that I'm probably gonna spend a lot of money at cafes, since I can't really spend the $35 to get me back to Angkor for another day. Nor do I really have the energy to go again.

Being here is easier and harder than I thought. I'm letting myself be; I think. I just don't really know how I'm supposed to feel while that happens. But I guess that's the point.

alive.

I'm still alive. Amazingly.

After 2 days with Bryce and Roe in Bangkok and Ayuttya, I made it to Siam Reap, Cambodia. I got swindled out of $30 for a visa and a bus ticket.

Tomorrow is dawn at Angkor Wat.
Tonight is a hot bath and bed.





What is good is so much deeper than what makes us happy or confident.

I need my something- and I'd really like it soon. But- whatever, I'll wait.

finally finished with class.

I still have 2 weeks here...but today I wish I was going home soon.

getting me some gumption.

Bruised/ pinched nerve finger, 6-7 bug bites on my face, tender jaw.

Something is trying to beat me up in my sleep.

Had one of the worst days yesterday and the day before; I started wondering why I even came. Cried through the first 20 minutes of both of my classes. I am overwhelmed by 5 projects due in 7 days.

I have a very high standard when I write and do papers; and a 4 week course is not enough time to write the way I want to. What's difficult is that the reason I have such a high standard of myself is because I feel behind; if I don't reach this standard, I'm just above bearable. On top of that I've realized that through the past bout of depression, I've spent so much time trying to breathe through class that I don't have any notes.

Got a note from my professor that he'd like to see me organize my writing better, to match my intelligence. I know it's a compliment, but it makes me feel tense in my chest. Instinctively, I'm just not good enough; I can't be.

It was a struggle getting out of bed this morning- but I did. And about 10 hours later, I finished my owl.

She's a little heating pad filled with rice, made of a white tank top, a purple bandana, and Lahu fabric I wove myself.

She makes me feel a little hopeful about me and my ability.

Tried buying clothes today with Beth and Roe. We made a trip to Nimenhaeman and scoured the street for their boutiques. We visited 6 shops, tried on 10+ dresses, and nothing.

I'm trying not to blame my body for that; Roe and Beth tried really hard. I'm grateful for them. And I had a good time.

Maybe I just keep hoping for something that'll turn me into a different body, and I just need to like what I've got. Somewhere in me is someone who likes me.

Past few days have been bad. But not as bad as The Worst.

I feel small, skill-less, and annoyed at most people.

The way Bon Iver's voice sounds is how I feel: strained, and a little underlying sense that it's not supposed to be this way.

Thanks Lord,

Today was great.

I feel like a waste.

I have so little grace to offer myself.

I want to be better now.

I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance. I don't have to pay penance.

Things I've Learned Today

My circle of friends has changed every year; and I've had intense short relationships all through college.

Throughout this Thing, I've laid all of myself upon the one person who's been a strength source these past years. As God has grown more and more distant, and as I realized that most of my relationships are short, I've relied more and more on this person to help me deal with the Thing.

But no one person was meant to carry that burden.

So, I've resolved myself to be more intentional about the relationships around me, even if they're short. Not out of penance, but because they're good for me-and good for us. Hopefully, they won't all be so short. Hopefully, it'll bring me out of my navel gazing long enough to be less destructive.

L--d, come quickly; but thanks for today- it was better than yesterday.

I don't live in a lifeboat.

I don't have to self-flaggelate.

I don't have to pay penance.

I am loved.

I am liked.

I don't have to work for it.

People can handle me. I am not too much.

life boat.

how sad.

how sad that I only feel loved when I'm loved -more- than someone else.

when I'm special.

There's nothing in that but oppression.

.... but that's not who I am or what I'm about or who I believe God is.

L--d, please come quickly. I'm a real fucking mess.

But thanks for today, it was better than yesterday.

-I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.

Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.- Rumi, 'whoever brought me here'

I'm afraid of what will happen when I let down my guard, if I let myself relax.

I'm afraid of all the ugliness that'll appear when I'm not watching it.

Made a scene today. Cried my way through my refusal to go to Dr. Amnuay's tonight.

Had my back to the room, but I'm pretty sure there were 5 or 6 people standing there.

I can't f--king stand me.

I'm allowed to be f--ked up, I'm just not allowed to show.

Today's one of those days when I have to will myself to keep breathing.

i'm just a little cup pretending to be a river.

Next month, it'll be a year since I named that tightness in my chest as 'depression'. I'm still uncomfortable with the label. So, I call it this Thing.

At the time, I hoped it would just go away. That because there was nothing for me to be anxious or depressed about that it would just dissipate itself. I thought that because I was making movements towards things that meant a lot to me, it would ease itself. But the pressure of school and the reality that someday I would have to grow up and take care of myself kept that bind around my heart.

I don't have any excuses now. I'm living in the most beautiful place, studying what I want to study. And it still won't go away. Today, I boxed myself into the corner of the couch with the pillows. For some reason, I thought that maybe if I could match the physical pressure I feel inside on the outside, it might equalize itself.

I've never needed that before. I can't communicate any of it. Thankfully, this is a step above "There's something inherently wrong with me", which was the only thing I could think when this happened before.

I know that there's no way to quantify emotion health, and no easy way of fixing this sort of thing. And I know there's no way of rationalizing myself out of it. It's just-it's been a year.

I just thought I'd be different by now.

The Last Week

T-Minus 4 days left in Vientiane.

I keep writing and re-writing this post and it won't write. So, instead, I made a list.

1. I value sacrifice as the ultimate act of Love towards God and Her people.
2. I value consistency of action and value.
3. I believe(d?) God respects willingness.
4. I have not been a sacrificial person, making me inconsistent.
5. My willingness has been replaced with fear.
6. I feel guilt and shame over my fear.
7. I don’t know how to get back to just being willing.

blech.

Today, I hate having boobs. And Janeane Garofalo.

Sure, not being able to wear a even semi low cut shirt without glances is a pain, but more frustratingly, girls with bodies like mine perpetually look frumpy if we aren't careful. Most days, no matter what I put on, it hangs, baggy, shapeless--- my t-shirts are tented, top heavy, then hang lifeless. When I try to fix this by accentuating my waist, everything seems to balloon out, but most especially my breasts. They suddenly become the center of everything... and I can't stand that. I've always hated my breasts.

The reason I'm currently hating on Janeane is because she may have been a girl with a body like mine- except she had a cosmetic breast reduction before she started getting serious about her acting/comedy etc. She said she felt that if she went on stage herself, all 5'1" and C-D breasts, she just wouldn't get respected. I'm irritated because I respect her. And suddenly, a cosmetic reduction is starting to look like a good idea.

I'll shake it off and tomorrow it won't matter.

-5:31pm-

I feel shitty. I feel torn between this person that I 'am', and the person I feel I should be. I should spend my free day exploring this new city, no matter how little I know about it, or how dark it is outside. Instead, I just want to lie in bed and read my book. Why can't I just be comfortable with what I actually want? Why do I always feel like I need to compare to this -person- I feel I should be, and then justify my actual actions? Who is judging me? And why do I think it matters so much?

i kinda wish I was the happier type.

and less afraid.

--

I also wish I didn't have to speak everything I felt. It doesn't relieve the tension in my ribcage.

I try not to regret many things-

but I really really wish I hadn't dropped out of Intro to Journalism.

At the time, I dropped because I knew I had to commit myself to other things. My other classes, to being an RA, to my emotional state. It's true that it was hard for me to do, for me to demand another persons time, for me to assert myself that way, and that fear was a larger factor than I was willing to admit.

I don't know if I'd make a good journalist. Part of me likes to think so.

Must be all this This American Life and that Current Tv.

I met Mike Phillips on the TV version of This American Life. He’s in his upper 20’s, and has been living with a spinal disease that has degenerated his motor skills. This episode of TAL has stuck with me so strongly, that it’s sent me into one of my Input strength binges. After downloading a year’s worth of TAL, I scoured their website. It was on their blog feed that I stumbled upon the link to Mike Phillips blog. The first post I saw was entitled Trache Day: Thinking about Tender Branson- , in which he writes about one of my favorite books Survivor, by Chuck Palhanuik. Automatically drawn to him, I aggregated his feed as well. While I haven’t read most of his writing, really only picking and reading the one’s about his tattoos or the TAL episode, I was surprised to see a 2-line post about taking a hiatus from blogging.

Another post followed the next day saying-

I might be a lot of really awful things, but I’m not stupid. I realized that I’d rather write until all four engines flame out than not. Even if everything I have to write is bad, that’s better than absolutely nothing.- Mike Philips

I feel that too. I keep quitting and starting again- hoping to be better this time around.

So here I am, starting again.

---

I couldn't sleep last night, and I'm having a hard time concentrating today.

But I did a few productivity things, like organizing my Google Reader, and finding that one shortcut. Yes- I know I'm that geeky.

Feeling lonely today, and down about my work. Trying not to let that stop me.

I leave tomorrow for practicum to Lao.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I'm afraid.

oh G-d, I'm so afraid.

---

I've realized that I really am influenced by the emotions other people are feeling around me. Something in me always feels like it's my fault.

It used to be that the only thing I was good at was writing and photography.

It seems now I'm no good at either.

Regardless.

-photos from nong tong village on flickr-

I transferred to North Park with one conviction- to learn about poverty. Since my time there, I've learned about racism, feminism, but not global poverty.

I gave up photography- being behind it made me feel distant, and separate, and like I was stealing from someone. I spent a lot of time questioning what good it did- the only people who're interested in photography of development already have seen the best. To them- a photo's just a photo. For everyone else in the western world- they spend most of their days distracted by their lives, and if they really wanted to know what was going on- it's just a few clicks away. A photo's just a photo to them too.

I get scared when I realize that this is still the only thing I'm "good" at. One- because I'm not that good, two- because photography and journalism don't matter anymore.

.... I gave it all up for this education I wanted at North Park- and I still didn't learn what I wanted to learn.

A friend of mine takes beautiful photographs- so beautiful that I kept thinking one of them was done by a professional photographer. She just has a natural eye.

In all this time, in all my trying- I can't do what she does.

But here I am- a week away from an advertising practicum. Going back to this thing I spent years of my life slaving for and then spent the last 2 years trying to forget- I don't have an idea what I'm doing.

The only thing I feel is that I should be better than this.


better driven, a better student, a less selfish friend.

And anger. Because I know- that all I can give is my best, and I can't do that if I spend my days moping.


I just need to get the fuck over this.

still alive

Hi everyone.

I'm still alive. I have lots of papers, and will be writing about the affect of tourism for them all. They're due the 25th. I don't really have enough time.

I'm going to Laos for my practicum... to create promotional brochures for a bi-vocational school. With Laos for the practicum, and Vietnam after the program- I just need to get to Cambodia and I'll have visited the entire Mekong Region. Pretty sweet.

I don't really know what it is- but my back is starting to hurt.

quick post

got bitten by a bug last night. this is what my lip looks like.

it would happen my first day of class.

'how..?'

It's 5:30AM in San Francisco, and 7:30PM in Chiang Mai. I'm trying to stay up at least till 9 to beat the jet lag. So I'm blogging.

It's hot. My ankles are HUGE from the 16 hour flight. And bugs are not only trying to eat me, but are trying to crawl into our keyboards and eat our processors.

But how can any of that matter when the view outside my bedroom window looks like this:

yes, I promise you. It is really that green.

The only thing I've been able to say these past hours is 'how is this where I live?'

waiting in the Bangkok airport where the walls are glass and the sun is rising through the clouds

walking around the green green compound of the Agriculture and Theology school run by the Thai-Lahu Christian Church

inhaling curry noodles with lime and glasses of thai ice tea

getting jostled around in the backseat of a 9 seater van, touring the city to see where my classes will be, loving the stores full of clothes and open front bars

finding out that a Harvard prof will be teaching our exclusion class, and will be taking us to Burma on a field trip

'how is this where i live?'

but really, on the inside, what I really really wanna know is how could I live here? How could someone like me, afraid, selfish, and lazy, live somewhere like this. with these wonderful, wonderful people. (people like the girls who bought me cake in the terminal, and to Julia and Kenny who found tiny sweet cute things to sing to me on my birthday)

but I'm here. And because I'm re-learning what it means to trust God and what S/He says about me, I'm trying to believe that I was hand-picked to be here. From the beginning of time, I was meant to be here right now.

I don't really believe it. But I'm trying.

-I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.

Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.- Rumi, 'whoever brought me here'

On leaving.

Today's the day.

It's taken so long to get here.

Not that I really had many to begin with, but this is where all my expectations ends.

Time to get down.

on food

I haven't cooked food in a long time.

Maybe that's what got me about being an RA- all I wanted to do was cook and bake for my residents, and I never had the time. Or I found myself too emotionally exhausted.

Last night I made homemade guacamole and elotes (grilled corn, mayo, cheese and spices) to have with hot dogs, and it was awesome.

At that moment, I was really grateful for my parents big expensive deck and fancy backyard... because being and eating with ashley, my cousins, and Erika was the best time I've had in a while.

yes. That was a good idea.

shake the dust

"do not let a moment go by that doesn't remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day,and there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean."

"so when the world knocks at your front door,

clench the knob tightly and open on up;

running forward into its wide-spread greeting arms

with your hands before you-

fingertips trembling though they may be."

i hate myself right now.

from january 6, 2009

"I have no idea how to fix me. And for all my education, independence, and pretending to be grown up, I'm still a little child daydreaming of someone who will love her more than anyone else."

- january 6, 2009.

getting off the grind.

I'm destroying myself.

I have been all year.

I'm confused, lost, but I remember days when I wasn't. And if there was a time when I didn't feel lost and confused, then isn't it my job to get back to where ever that place was?

So I spend days where I walk around and the only thought I have is "there is something deeply deeply wrong with me". Then I snap, desperate for someone, anyone to tell me I'm wrong, that somewhere, deep deep down, is something good, something worth loving.

since i've had my bicycle, i've experienced more joy in the past few weeks than I have in the whole year. Simply because I'm moving and leaving the rut behind...

I peddled hard coming home, just to feel like I was moving.

and then I renamed this blog 'movement, movement.'

most days.

most days. i hate everything. especially myself.

except the bike ride to work. it's beautiful and green.

"I got a message for you, boy, but it seem I was never on time" or, "Lamentations on my Singleness"

I can't really say that I really want to be married. Words like "wedding" "bride" "husband" feel like a foreign language that I will never ever wraps my tongue or my mind around.

But I have always, always, always wanted to be in a committed relationship. I have always wanted to give love and be loved in a quiet, lifelong, life giving sort of way.

It's a desire that runs so deep I can barely put any of it in words. I can only describe the way my stomach tightens and my blood seems to hum in my veins.

It's a legitimate thing. At least that's what I tell myself.

Lately tho, I just wanna be free of it.

I just wanna remember that really; I don't need to be loved or love someone that way. And not in a i-have-to-love-myself-before-i-can-love-someone-else kind of way, either. Just plain- I'd be content if I never dated or fell 'in love' with another person ever again.

I wanna get to that point.

I bought a used copy of Aperture 2 today, a professional photo editing program.

I don't know why I feel so afraid.

In other news, I'm learning to give names to the real things I feel; and be honest about my intentions.

like: Actually, I don't want to call him to see how his day was, I really want to vent about my parents and eventually have him validate me.

I'm not sure what good it's doing yet- but I like it.

secret

secret of the easy yoke - pedro the lion

i could hear the church bells ringing

they pealed aloud your praise
the member's faces were smiling
with their hands outstretched to shake
it's true they did not move me
my heart was hard and tired
their perfect fire annoyed me
i could not find you anywhere
could someone please tell me the story
of sinners ransomed from the fall
i still have never seen you, and somedays
i don't love you at all

the devoted were wearing bracelets
to remind them why they came
some concrete motivation
when the abstract could not do the same
but if all that's left is duty, i'm falling on my sword
at least then, i would not serve an unseen distant lord

could someone please tell me the story
of sinners ransomed from the fall
i still have never seen you, and somedays
i don't love you at all
if this only a test
i hope that i'm passing, cuz i'm losing steam
but i still want to trust you

peace be still

---

every time I hear this song, i have to play it over and over again.

Madam Bovary

... he abandoned every last shred of restraint and consideration. He turned her into something compliant, something corrupt.

-Madam Bovary, by Gustave Flaubert, via Little Children

Things I learned this school year (running post)

i hate to police.

i can only be one thing at one time. student, RA, emotional human being.

i don't transition from role to role quickly.

When I get interrupted from doing one thing, it's hard for me to get back.

I have tendencies to navel-gaze (excessive self absorption).

If I don't start thinking about being somewhere an entire half hour or hour before I have to be somewhere, I will be late.

...this results in my being super early or super late.

i need 10 hours of sleep a night.

When stressed, I will either sleep, spend money or stare off into the distance for hours.

more to come.

what do I do now?

From: go-ed@fh.org

Subject: Go ED. Fall 2009 Notification

Date: May 5, 2009 5:23:36 PM CDT

To: cmmungcal@gmail.com

Reply-To: go-ed@fh.org

Hi Cat,

(This email is the electronic notification of the letter you will receive by mail. Please read this e-mail completely so that you can respond to the action steps at the end.)

Congratulations!

We are pleased to announce that Food for the Hungry has selected you to participate in the Go ED. Mekong Semester Study Abroad Program for Fall 2009.

To confirm your participation in the program please submit the $300.00 program deposit by check to:

Houghton College

Off Campus Programs

One Willard Avenue

CPO 188

Houghton, NY 14744

The deposit is to be submitted to Houghton no later than Friday, May 15, 2009 and will off-set your program fees.

After the deadline date of May 15, 2009, a packet of information will be mailed to you with everything you need to know before your departure for Mekong.

Travel and contact information

In order to secure the lowest airfare possible, we will be booking your flight overseas very soon after the deposit deadline. We will need the following information from you to reserve your ticket:

Name as it appears on your passport.

Passport number.

Issue date.

Expiration date.

If during the summer your address will be different than 3305 West Foster Ave. CPO 2887 please provide the updated address as there will be information mailed to you and we want to ensure that it is received in a timely manner.

Action step: Please reply to this email to provide me with your travel and contact information.

If you have any questions please contact me at go-ed@fh.org or call 1-800-248-6437, ext. 1167.

Blessings,

Donna Bradford

Programs Assistant

Placement Services

Food for the Hungry / U.S.

1224 E. Washington St.

Phoenix, AZ 85034

1-800-248-6437

www.fh.org

my finest misfortune

my finest misfortune- derek webb & sandra mccracken

to the one who's broken, the one who's lost, and waiting for some comfort
wisdom speaks in the darkest parts, but few can understand it
she gives and she takes it away
the sun and the moon, the sky and the rain
her love is just the same

so many questions, so much undone, i am my finest misfortune
who i am and where i was, like a string of weary ambition
but she paints all the rooms with her name
truth or deceit, criminals and saints
her love is just the same

(instrumental)

i cannot sleep, i have a weary head and I'm circling the rafters
above the day, my dreams and debts
oh, i am tumbling after
the wheels spin around in the sand
for better or worse, ruin or fame
her love is just the same


----
beth told me my feelings were valid, but I don't really know what that means. I'd really rather I NOT feel this way. Or that acknowledging these feelings made them go away. I don't want to sit here with this.

When I feel things, I feel them deeply. They dictate the things I do. Whether I sleep all day or not sleep at all.

I don't really believe that I'm gonna get the things I want. I hope it's because there's something better for me. So much better that I can't imagine/fathom them. But I don't really believe that either.

Beginning.

Open wide my door, my LORD.

Open wide my door, my Lord.

Open wide my door, to whatever makes me love you more.

Lord, nows the time.

dear GOD.

I really wanted to go to Thailand.

I'm not really that heartbroken.

I didn't really think I would be going.

But every now and then, there's a real pang:

like when I see anything that says GoED.

Or when people talk about petitioning North Park for credit.

or when I realize I still haven't told Charith.

I want to withdraw my application,

because I don't want to see the cheery little email saying:

'You're accepted!'

and having to decline.

I try not to think about it too hard.

When people ask, I'm honest.

"I need to start realizing I'm not going for real.

I formulated my identity around it,

Around who I was supposed to be after."

It's honest. and it's true.

But I don't think I can handle any questions after that.

Any real questions.

I've hidden all the things that remind me of hot tropical places.

I try to suppress the thoughts of me strolling in markets

of standing at open windows in soft red and purple wrap skirts.

or remembering that this was supposed to be what showed me my purpose.

oh. and it was supposed to be the compromise with my parents.

I could be poor. As long as it was something they could brag about to their friends.

And for all my education, independence, and pretending to be grown up,

I'm still a little child daydreaming of someone who will love me more than anyone else.

I still wish for romance.

for shivers.

for butterflies.

and real kisses.

but more so, I still hope for a man

to walk sleepy and dark roads with me,

to talk Jesus, media, and justice with me,

and who actually actually desires me for real.

I don't really think I'll ever have that. I don't know where such people are.

I hoped he would be in Thailand.

I really don't feel like this should matter.

I really don't want it to.

I'd rather not deal with these things.

I'd rather forget about it.

-me.

IMG00014.jpg

Jen's characiture of Brandon

i'm just not doing what i need to be doing. which is school work.

i'm a terrible student.

GoED

GoED is going to be $17,000+, up front, in the middle of August.

No scholarships. No FASFA. Loans aren't a good idea because I've already taken out $23,000.

$17,000+.


I talk to my Dad tonight.

-update-
8:30 pm

My Dad doesn't waste words. He also doesn't like telling people things they don't want to hear.

I explained the situation.
He cut me off, said, "Chris, do you have to go to thailand? Can you stay here?"
me: Not really.
dad: me and your mom have been talking and we just don't have $17,000.
me: ok. well then, i guess i just won't go.
dad: well, chris... me and your mom will talk about it.
me: no, no. if we don't have it then we don't have it. i'll just stay here next year.
dad: i'm sorry, chris.
me: it's ok.
dad: bye.
me: bye.

I've contacted 2 more schools about payment programs. Greenville (an affiliate school), and Bethel- the wild card.

i'm not getting my hopes up. i don't know what makes me sadder, that i'm probably not going, or that my dad couldn't offer me anything more than 'i'm sorry'.

Cross post from the food blog

"There's a hunger beyond food that's expressed in food, and that's why feeding is always a kind of miracle. It speaks of a bigger desire."- Sara Miles, Take This Bread

My Nanay (grandmother) cooked constantly while I was growing up. Huge pots, mounds of meat, her orange strainer in a stainless steel bowl, and the rhythm when she would alternately chop pork into tiny perfect cubes and run her knife over the bottom of an upturned mug to sharpen. She would cook enough for small armies, and we ate for days.

I didn't begin to cook until I was 18.

All my efforts up to that point were few, far between and horrible. Scrambled eggs were small, gritty and dry, and cakes came out of a box. But that summer I spent three weeks in the Philippines, where I ate 5 or 6 meals a day, surrounded by more people than I could count, and when I returned something happened. ^whisper: It was magic.

I woke up one day and thought, "Hmm. I think I want muffins." I bought a mini muffin tin, called my photo teacher for her blueberry muffin recipe, and swapped the blueberries for blackberries. And it was over.

The rest of that summer with a few good friends and online recipes, I was broiling chicken, making my own pesto, and baking like it was my job. Looking back on all the important things that happened that summer, like when I decided to switch schools, when I invited a random salesman in my house, the dreaded ex-boyfriend phone call, catching up with old friends or meeting new ones, it all happened in my kitchen cuz I never left.




It's at a table a person learns what it means to serve and be served and to talk to one another and share our lives.

Jesus, who is God incarnate, came eating and drinking, fed the hungry and gave water to the thirsty, and at his death his body was broken and his blood poured out to take away the sins of the world.

The word 'thankful' in Greek is translated as 'eucharisimi', 'be eucharist'. Eucharist is the word used to describe the Lord's Supper, where bread and wine are eaten to remember Christ's sacrifice. So, the way I show thankfulness is to break myself open and pour myself out for someone else. I give of myself. I've taken in this literally by baking bread to be broken and shared.

The very first church started this way, people would gather together to pray for one another and talk about God, all over a shared meal.

Anyway, I'm on vacation at home this week, and I've cooked two noteworthy things, Lighter than Air Chocolate Cake and Spinach and Tomato Omelette.

Lighter than Air Cake from SmittenKitchen.com






Spinach and Tomato Omelette with help from Pineapple girl

Milwuakee and Diversey

Kimball bus stop-chicago red eye

the squat

it's true.
i can't do the squat.

but i did in my shoes today!


^_^

It might be a fluke, but whatever.

goED

I have passed the big hurdle.... North Park has approved GoED.

I still have to apply to goED, and to George Fox University.... and I have to raise enough money for my camera.

and while I'm super excited to go (you can tell by all the travel blogs i'm collecting), I've never been so afraid. and afraid like i'm not meant to be this way. or to do this thing.

which is really kind of silly. Because, what would I be doing if this wasn't it?

(dot). (dot). (dot).

“Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things - air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky - all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.” - Cesare Pavese

- source

page 5 of 6, 3:30am, due 8am.

needs revision.

poet 2.0

conducive to creativity.

I found a new way of writing papers.

It's so exciting that I've been so focused I had to blog about it.

So here are a few pictures.

^what the corner of the room looks like.

That's butcher paper from my friend upstairs, colored markers i bought at the beginning of the year, and packaging tape.

I have a really hard time sitting down and writing out my papers. I'm always getting up and sitting down, getting up and sitting down. I just can't seem to organize my thoughts. So, as I was in an up moment, I stood by my window and remembered that scene from A Beautiful Mind where Russell Crowe is scribbling furiously into the glass window panes. I thought to myself, Huh, I wonder if I can do that with dry erase markers.... too bad I don't have-

And then I remembered my neighbors giant roll of butcher paper, which he said he never really used.

So, I finagled it. And it has kind of revolutionized my life. I actually have an hefty outline and a thesis. Uh-mazing.

In the process, I also rediscovered Copeland from my high school days... and I find myself sketching.

and this one inspired by Rives poem, "Compliment"

I feel very good. But now, I want my bed.

letters

To you, whomever you may be:

I hope you're a poet,

and that you write about me.

- me, your lover.

pathetic.

today: i really just feel like being someone's favorite.

money.

From Thursday to Sunday, I put in 19 hours at Isla. At 6 dollars an hour, I made $114. On top of that I made some close to $100 in tips. And then the $150 Ninong gave me.

I made all this money... but I've technically already spent it all... -_- stupid credit card. Most of it is legitimate, birthday presents and groceries... but you have NO idea how much money I have spent eating and taking people out to eat. lol, Which is also legitimate in my book.

But I'm gonna put that card away. haha. It's funny because when Ray handed me my pay and tips all I could think about what how I need to give it away, that I can't have this much money. Lol, I just already had. And it's interesting how that money FEELS different than the money I get from sitting Media Services desk or the allowance from my parents. I know that I worked for this, that we (the restaurant) worked for this. Maybe also because it's cash. I wanna start doing things in cash.

In any case, I'm using the money to pay off my credit card and start new.


I'm dead tired, my feet hurt, I've got two term papers to do, but I feel just a little bit more independent.

chasing pavements

"i want to be Love and have Love, and not just that romantic kind either."

I don't remember the last time I felt this way. I just want the romantic right now.

hahah. which is exactly why i shouldn't be in a relationship.

Because I cannot love another more than I love myself and i cannot let another person love me.

linkness.

can't write anything. catching up. too much. 

also, reading american born chinese. wish i had this growing up.

the books I read when I was young:

-what happened to lani garver- carol plum ucci

from the jfk library, before the renovation

-the giver - lois lowry

awakened my love of distopian novels

-speak- laurie halse anderson

when i was in the 8th grade, at the springstowne middle school library. it was on display, on a gray metal shelf that i had to bend down to reach. i saw it from across the room.

-feed - m.t. anderson

i still remember the party scene where the main character cannot handle the new fad of cosmetic lesions, and i get shivers when i get recommendation emails from amazon.

- the grave, james heneghan

7th grade, when the whispers first began of my 'weirdness'

things i love right now:

- make up lite: colored burt's bees wax, soft eye pencils, velvet tuberose body butter, and done eyebrows

- Amy Tan: The Kitchen God's Wife; I can't get over how much I resonate with her portrayal of the Asian Immigrant and Asian American divide

- the fact my portfolio is on its way

- glossy magazines

- watchmen

- current tv

I prayed this once

something in me doesn't want to write out this prayer and make it real.


but Lord,
teach me a joy that doesn't come from being
safe or comfortable,
but one that comes from knowing You are near.
open wide my door, my Lord,
to whatever makes me love You more.

amen.

.... I've never felt so much like I didn't know what I was doing. Or like I wasn't good enough to do anything I want to do.


I don't feel like I was made for/ destined for anything.

Her motivation is unmatched, and she's been this way forever. And me? All I can talk about is how lonely I am, and how badly I wanna go out.

I'm ridiculous.

on stress levels

So... I'm consistently frustrated with myself and my nonmotivation.

but I keep hoping that maybe everyone else is feeling this way and I'm just the only one who says it, and maybe the only one who knows I'm freaking out is me, Beth, and Roe.

Regardless, I kicked my Social Thought tests ass... even if Steinhart didn't give us ridiculous multiple choice answers, I would've kicked it's ass.

Then, I slept through class this morning. ^sigh.

I've never felt so lost and confused.

I was thinking about teaching today. What if I could be heuristically provocative? What if I was that person that prompted thought?

What if I could communicate this way?


I am a fool.

i love, you love.

my dad bought the john legend album for one song that sampled a dire straits song.
it breaks my heart every time i listen to it. It's really beautiful.


---

I'm having a very difficult time reigning myself in, and keeping myself in check.

I'm really lonely. It makes me want things I don't really want. Or misplace desires for what I really want.
^eyeroll. something like that.

feelings.

I feel restless.
I feel tired.
I feel unsatisfied.
I feel lonely.
I feel lust.
I feel irritation.

I'm on duty tonight, and Beth's gone all weekend. :[ what will I do?

present-ness.

Today's chapel was based on the Incarnation and Christ's call for us to be incarnate with each other. I am very bad at this. Right now, I'm typing this in anatomy class where I should be learning about cells.

Chapel today has reminded me of why I continually struggle being in/wanting to be in media. Above all things, I want to value people the most. And if what I want to do/ or am best at conflicts with that value, it needs to go.

But I suppose, I just need to get it under control. Making sure it doesn't conflict with being people. Like being able to leave my phone at home; to make sure every photo I take is meant for something and not my facebook/myspace.

Struggle.

"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."
1 John 1:9

"Repent therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord."
Acts 3:19

Please, Lord, be faithful. I've told everything and I've never been more sorry, all I want now is to let this go.

bad decisions.

I reached for the chest of his blue plaid shirt, feeling the material between my fingers, as he leaned toward me and touched his lips to mine.

I shouldn't have. We shouldn't have.

I hate myself that I did. That I was being selfish and careless. That, even now, knowing better, I still want it.

The only thing I want right now is to not want the things I don't really want. Apparently, that starts with learning to forgive myself for what happened. But what happened is just a manifestation of what's wrong with my character, my selfishness, my lack of self control, my likelihood to settle for less, and all these things I can't forgive.

So, how do I forgive myself for what happened but not dismiss these very serious and dangerous flaws? [Because it's happened TWICE now... kissing men I don't really want to create this kind of connection to.]

Lord, please help. How am I supposed to DO this? I have no idea how to fix me. And for all my education, independence, and pretending to be grown up, I'm still a little child daydreaming of someone who will love her more than anyone else.