Greene Talk

Laxative

2010-02-21T11:43:00.003Z

It's been going on a year since I've posted.

A year.

That's just bloody ridiculous.

The problem is that in my life, if I don't write all of my thoughts and feelings, they become emotionally stuffed down to the bottom of my toes, to a place that even my toenails wonder if there is hope for another life beyond. Emotionally stunting myself is no good choice when it comes to my wanting to change my life, get through college with good grades and even greater memories, and eventually write. Write. My dream. My longing. My great desire to leave something of myself to touch the lives of countless generations to come. To change the lives of people; for new perspectives to be gained; for new ideas wrestled and dealt with; for something of mine to endure. Therein is the end goal.

I find myself to be a very stubborn individual. I know what I need to do. What countless others have had to do. And yet, I try and find ways around the standard and get gain the same results. I do not like taking paths well broken in. Tonight I had the choice of 4 different types of beers. All of my other companions chose red. I, though loving the red kind, could not fall into the mold. I chose green. This silly example illustrates my deep need to step out and be different. However, this great need of mine is becoming a bit ridiculous as not only am I not a genius able to write a masterpiece at the drop of a hat, but that I feel my skill leave me day after day when I do not use it. It's bloody obvious what I need to do.

I need to write.

I need to keep daily thoughts going on something. Something that will help the creative juices flow and keep the emotions out of my toes and in places (like my heart and soul) where they duly belong. Will I write every day? Probably not. Although now that I'm thoroughly inspired we may be able to bank on one consecutive week. Ok, let me speak truthfully. We may count on 3 days in a row. If we're lucky.

But consistency is key, not perfection. To hone a skill, to learn a craft, requires years and years of practice. I do not wish to remain emotionally and literarily constipated. So here now is my laxative. Is my fiber. Is my writing. Is my blog.

Take Note

2009-05-11T00:56:00.001+01:00

Our Biological Families remind us where we come from. Covenant Families remind us where we're going. -- Constance Burke

Of Memory and the Great Story.

2009-05-05T06:43:00.006+01:00

It's amazing how having 4 hours of sleep contributes to the making of a beautiful, though incredibly random day. And here I am, verily able to fall into a comfortable sleep, yet fighting it all the way. Oh well, you gotta strike while the iron's hot!

Memory. Today, suprisingly, I was completely on top of my game. Remembered all I needed for work--not one mess up or set back. Just beautiful fluity. It was grand.

At the gym I watched saw the very end of Caddyshack, and the gopher dance brought back some lovely memories of ye olde high school days, and a certain male ballet dancer who brilliantly imitated said gopher. I also received a punch in the gut when I turned my eyes to find someone who looked remarkably like a dear friend from Britain, yet aged to 50. It was a jolt like none other I can ever remember. All of the sudden I felt as if I were watching the scene from outside myself, rewinding the year that has gone by, and thinking of the person and life I lead in my adopted home. Of the life I could be leading now if I were there. Oh my. Better not let that go too far.

Then there's seeing people you knew once upon a day, but now in a completely different context, and realizing the story has moved on and away. It's strange when you come to the point of being very ok to shut the chapter of a book and look away... look away and not back with regret. I never really understood it as a child--how friends can lose touch. But I suppose that comes with maturity. I never understood how someone could let something so precious die. But there is a time for life and death, and when the end comes, any attempt to resusitate it merely prolongs the agony of the break.

Break ups are not all bad. One must cherish the good memories and see them for what they are: memories. Whether those memories are so potent they kick you in the stomache, or they are regarded as such to cause yourself to become the center of attention laughing hysterically at something a tiny bit funny, it's worth it. But when you try to relive the memories, resusitate the life that has passed away, the old people that we once were, and the old values that we once held, the pieces never will fit. Alas. Though we are sub-creators and can control the lives of people in Faerie land, we have not the same ability in our own. God is God and I am not. Thankfully.

And so, all of these memories should be treasured and remembered. But when people lose the will to keep those memories alive and ever maturing with each and every adventure, then its time to take the shovel and begin digging the hole. Afterall, there is a sense of completeness at the end of a funeral.

I'm a fighter. But, that was yesterday. If those of yester year attend and remain close, then happy day! If not... it's just another closing of a chapter in the grand story of my life. I will not make the mistakes of those who came before me. I will not waste the beautiful opportunities that lay before me. And I will not be passive. I taste the freshness and opportunity that lies at my very feet and rejoice. It is a new day, and God is good.

On Betrayal

2009-04-29T06:00:00.003+01:00

I think betrayal is the worst thing a person can ever feel or experience. Especially when the person who betrayed them was their best friend, their sister, their closest ally, their bosom friend (Anne Shirley, woop!). Besides the betrayal of a spouse, the betrayal of "your person" is the deepest a cut can go. And when that friendship has history, say 8 years, the wound is all the more deep and all the more unwilling/unable to heal. Especially when you include the factors:

1. That person became relatively quiet when you needed them the most. I mean, it's expected for communication to be difficult in very different time zones and lifestyles... and cultures, but still. Friends are friends no matter the time zone.

2. That person treats you with condescension and spite out of the blue. This especially hurts when you have never been so cruelly spoken to by someone who has not spent 40 years rotting their mind out with drugs.

3. That person gets engaged and invites everyone from your old circle of friends to the wedding to be bridesmaids, and yet, you are not even informed.

4. Everyone else, even those who know the story, still love them.

Now, I have a heightened sense of justice... perhaps that's due to all the stuff I've been through judicially where a towel has been thrown over justice. Or it may be due to some special gift from God. I also have a great sense of loyalty. Perhaps it's because I don't exactly have a family... or because one should always remain true to their adopted family. Whatever the case, I am still hurt, and the wound keeps weeping.

There's a great temptation to take everything I was ever given, or anything that evokes strong memories (and what doesn't, when you've known this person all your teen years?) and rip it to shreds. Then burn the shred. Then send the shreds to them in the mail. Ok, maybe not. (First of all, I'm simply not that stalkerish and conniving; Secondly, I don't want to burn anything down or kill any wildlife; Thirdly, I'd rather not get dirty).

There's also a rather large temptation to simply delete the past and cut myself off from all influences of it, from all the people from it. Then I wouldn't have to be confronted with this bastard issue everytime we get together. To start new. Start fresh. But no good friend could be that pigheaded and do something so mean. It would be perpetuating the hurt. And I could never sleep if I thought I had caused someone pain; least of all a mere spliter of the amount I've felt.

Right now the only option is to let go. This may sound petty and over-dramatic to the average reader, but try growing up solo in a world full of living, breathing novels. Having the fact that you're screwed up and aren't from a cookie cutter family thrown in your face every moment. And then having the one person who you know will be there for you no matter what, suddenly turn into a rabid bitch. And so, as good friend has told me time and again. Breathe. Just Breathe.

So, I'm going to do that. Breathing and all. And the good friends, the right friends, the covenant friends, will stick no matter what. Or so wisdom tells me.

The Click

2009-04-23T06:02:00.004+01:00

After 6 years of classical education, a year abroad, and a year in College, I do believe I'm only just now starting to "get it" afterall. I mean, what everything I've studied for so long actually mean... it's relevance and point. I thought I had before, but it's as if I'm seeing with new eyes. The light has been turned on, and I'm there. Not there there. But on the road to getting there. Now it's just a matter of staying on that road and not squelching that light.

Let's Waste Millions of Euros and Dump MORE Crap into the Ocean!

2009-03-30T04:02:00.002+01:00

Honestly. How is this not pollution? What about the ecology of the ocean where this stuff has been dumped?

All just a massive waste of time. And money. And energy. Stupid is as stupid does.

http://www.dw-world.de/dw/article/0,,4126536,00.html

Prop 8 -- The Musical

2008-12-05T15:17:00.003Z

I mean, they're not spreading hate or ignorance or anything...

Territorial Pumpkin

2008-12-04T06:49:00.000Z

So, perhaps a little late. But worth it, nonetheless.

September 14th

2008-09-16T19:50:00.002+01:00

My birthday is a fantastic and beautiful thing. Every time I see the month of September coupled by the number 14 I am in ecstacy. I think it an absolutely beautiful date and day. Not that I'm biased or anything.

Other than myself being born upon this day, it has only two other things to recommend it.

-Francis Scott Key penned the Star Spangled Banner on this day. Sweet!

-Theodore Roosevelt became president de factor after McKinley's assassination assault a few days before. TR's pretty much amazing.

However, some pretty horrible things have also happened on this day to stop the laudability of my day.

-Margaret Sanger, the founder of Planned Parenthood, was born. She was an insane racist and arian supporter who hope to extinguish the black community by placing abortion clinics in the economically depressed city regions. A fowl taste comes to my mouth...

-Britney Spears deigned to give birth to her first child. Why couldn't she wait a few more hours!?

-And, this year, Sharia Law has been legitimisiced as a form of governing law in Great Britain. Crazy, nuttiness. And, randomly, when I looked it up on BBC news, it was no where to be found. Thank you London Times for letting us know what's going on.

So, right now, other than it being my date of birth, I think the cons waaaay outweigh the benefits. It's got a lot going against it. Well, I certainly hope I can do something of value to bring some honour back to this date. I pray that I might.

Decided

2008-09-04T04:05:00.001+01:00

I do believe Sarah Palin has just ended this election.

There's Only One Thing To Do in a Situation Like Mine... BLOG!

2008-08-25T05:37:00.002+01:00

The past week... nay, past 4 days have been incredibly nuts. I went from worrying horribly at raising funds to get back to England and all the emotions that come with knowing you're going to be leaving soon, to finally submitting to God and deciding to stay home, joining Bannockburn a day before classes start, orientating myself to getting a job, moving out (perhaps starting a community house) and all that it entails, getting things organized, perhaps going to school to be a dental assistant, mom telling me I need to work on getting a job so I can move out, mom telling me I'll be paying for my college education by myself, and now... BAM. Get ready for it. My mom is dating someone.

*Deep Inhale* Let's repeat. My mom is dating someone.

It's not so much the fact that she's dating, it's how's it's come about. So, I'm here sitting on the couch asking her about if dental assisting is a possibility, taking the mick out of her because of her reaction to helping me out in college and low and behold, the phone rings. Ordinarily this is not a strange and curious phenomenon, but the response is what makes me know something is different. "Who was that on the phone?" I ask, expecting it to be a girl friend. "No, one."

Ummm... what?

"Actually, it's a guy who asked me out."

Uhhhhhhh.... what?!

"I'm really nervous about it and don't know where it's gonna lead, so if he's good you'll get to meet him"

Uhhh... I just wanna know how this happened!?!?!

She leaves the house with a friend because she has to run some errands. 2 hours later I call concerning purchasing some books for school. No answer. The usual call 3 times in a row thing doesn't work either. Finally, an hour later, a call back arrives. I jokingly say that whenever I cannot get in touch with her, I'll now think she's on a date. And then ask how it's going. She dodges the question, of course and then says that she'll be home late. Late? Are you having a good time? Surprisingly, yes.

As I write, it's now quarter past midnight. On a brief excursion out to find food, I discover our vacated car at Starbucks. I can't believe it. My mom is actually on a date!

It's been 13 years... she hasn't dated since I was 6. I'm seriously excited for her, cause I've always wanted her to have someone to take care of her and love her. But the way she's handling it makes me think I could need therapy.

Then there's the fact that my mom's out and I'm not. That's just wrong.

Maybe this is why I'm supposed to stay here and not be in England. Maybe it's to make sure she doesn't elope without letting me know...

God provide?

2008-08-18T03:38:00.003+01:00

I'm in a messy part of life. My emotions are all conflicted and entangled and I don't know exactly how to deal with them all. First comes the sadness of knowing I won't be seeing my closest friends for over a year. Then comes the knowledge that that might not actually be the case, that I may actually not be going back and that I may be seeing them pretty much every day which seems oh so nice. And then I get sad thinking of no longer being in the land that I love and the place I feel most at home. It breaks my heart when I ponder not going back. But at the same time, I want God's will and not my own. And I simply just want to make the right decision. The right choice. What is that, anyway?

It's kinda scary how I've so easily fallen back into my old life. And it's been fantastic. I love being home, I love spending time with old friends, reminiscing and catching up. Old pains and annoyances are more ably overlooked and dealt with. Life is more in perspective. I'm surprised that being home hasn't been more of a challenge. But I'm so happy about it! It means coming home next year (hopefully) will not present the horrible emotional pains that I thought it would. I'm surprised at how ok I am at thinking both ways. There's two roads before me... both have heart-ache and pain awaiting, both have incredible joy and adventures in store. The question is, which one is the right one, the one God wants me to take, the one I'm supposed to take, and when will there be provision?

Why must it always come down to money? Why must all my worries surround this one minute thing? I'm shocked that so few people have given, and it's hard not to let that make me feel unloved, unsupported, uncared for, and unnoticed. Or that maybe it's not actually God's plan for me to go. Or that maybe it is God's plan for me to go, but that Satan is trying to stop it from happening and I just need more faith. See the dilemma? God help me. God save me. God prepare me.

The Ending of an Era

2008-06-22T23:51:00.002+01:00

So, I'm coming to the end of my time here in Inverness. Tonight was my last Revolution. Lindsay, Robin and I were to stand up and say our goodbyes. I honestly didn't know what to say. I knew it had to tie in to God stuff, but, I honestly didn't know what to say other than, "I love you guys so much. I'm so grateful to God to be here. He is faithful. He was true to me. Keep running after him." I was fighting tears. Am suprised they didn't over-run me. But, you cannot imagine my suprise when I heard weeping coming from a corner. Dear Yogi was crying his heart out. His heart out. I can't believe I've had that much of an effect on a life. I simply cannot believe one would weep over me.

I love my kids here, so very very much. I cannot believe I'm leaving. Now that I'm finally apart of a community, I must leave. And when I'm finally picking up on Highland culture, I'm gone. Rhiannan and Yogi cried. They cried. I've made a difference. I'll take it.

I've learned so much about myself this past year. So much about God. So much about what it means to live in community. So much about what ministry is about. So much about what I'm supposed to do. And so much about what I'm not called to do.

Here's the thing. I love learning. I absolutely love it. I love delving into a book that recounts a beautifully written story of providence and redemption. I love learning more about theology. I love learning the different philosophies behind ministry. In truth, I love learning and discussing things with those who love what I do. Maybe I am meant to be a teacher. But I refuse to be an ordinary one. I'd be a private tutor or something like that...

There's more. Oh so much more. I never quite got how much work there is to be done. And there's a lot. And it's not as black and white at all. It's a flippin gray mess. But maybe that's it. We're here to help in the sorting of the gray into black and white.

Then there's the whole thinking and imagining what could be. What might be. Being satisfied with almost and just quite. It never quite works out, does it? I don't think I could ever be content with almost or just quite. Wishing and hoping they turn into the person you could possibly see them being. I'm glad it didn't work out. It wouldn't've been a good thing. I always serve myself short. I really ought to work on that. And focus on what is and what will be. Who I truly am and what my calling is. Get through all this muck to the real substance. Shred out the foolishness and busyness and get down to the nitty gritty of what's important. What's in store for me? I really don't know. But I am so excited. I think it's a story far beyond anythng I could've ever imagined!

By the way, I got rocked last night. Pete and Christine took me to the Falls of Shin and to have dinner with their friends. Halfway through our meal, the man starts praying and prophesying over me. At the end of the visit, he once more prayed for me. All the things that I've thought through in my mind--little buzz phrases--kept popping out of his mouth. I've never had an experience quite like it. He reconfirmed all the things I've been taught and told and old prophecies laid over me. The right words came from his mouth. I knew God was speaking to him about me. I knew it. It was an experience I will never forget, and by far the most real of any time I've been prophecied over. I'm so excited about this little gift from God to myself. And I'm not going to continue to talk over and over about it to people. Because I know what my own reaction would be. No words will ever be able to convey what happened in that home. Nor shall I try to convince anyone. It will be a time I treasure for myself, knowing that I am not alone and that I have a great calling and destiny on my life. It was the most real thing I've experienced in a very long time. I feel so in tune with God, so in tune with my purpose. Praise God for that wave of refreshment! It was literally just what I needed. It shall be my own experience. One that I shall treasure to myself. I shall not shout it aboout from the roof-tops, or try and convince people of the realness of the experience. I shall keep it as my own gift from my Lord. And I pray that it would come through... and soon.

Life altering

2008-06-06T22:19:00.002+01:00

There's a fight in the world between good and evil. I used to think you could apply that principle to people as well, that there are good people in the world and there are bad people. There are also those who are inbetween, but if you're not actively on the good side, you could probably be classed as heading on the wrong path. I now see how simple and wrong this is.

In the end, we're all bad people. The amazing part is when we get over our taintedness and let the light of the Gospel shine through. Life is not a science. People are not a science. They are not to be categorized and disected. In the end, we're all messed up; we're all the thing we hate most; we're all our own worst enemy. Praise God that he works in us to make us more like him. It's just taking the step and asking... wanting.

I think that's what I've just rediscovered. And it's mind-blowing.

Angry World

2008-05-14T00:35:00.002+01:00

It seems like everywhere I go is crowded by anger. Not just enthused off others, but issued from myself as well. Road rage, impatience, annoyances, everything. I wonder what it is that has made us all so angry...

I mean...

We have almost everything we could ever want. And if we don't, we can get it on credit.
Information is unloaded to us instantly from everywhere and anywhere.
The luxeries of life surround us. I mean, seriously. We don't have bring in our own bath water, heat it ourselves. We don't have to grow our own food. We don't even have to go outside for the toilet. Or wash our clothes in a river. Or takes months to travel the world. Or have easy access to books and education. Or music. Or entertainment. In fact, it's everywhere.
And yet, having all these things hasn't cured the hunger behind every soul. To be heard. To be accepted. No amount of money or possessions will ever fully impress the crew you're wanting to. It's the person you are that makes that possible
Which brings us to the fact that there are so many self-help books, diets, everything to try and change ourselves, our very beings. To become like the god-like figures on the OC or Grey's Anatomy or High Fashion runways. But we always fail. And move on to the next one. (Save, of course, the select few people these things work for).
We're ADD. Moving on from one problem to the next without resolving any. One subject to the other without mastery any. One hope, dream, love, fear for another in an instant.
I wonder, if having all these things laid out for us, and not really having to produce anything with our own hands has caused this sort of frustration. Yes, we can work a job and buy a mansion, filling it with great things. But, I don't think it means the same as if I had built the house myself, the furniture myself.. or at least have bought it from an actual person that I know who made it. It's like we're living in a phony reality. And it's breaking us apart. And making us angry.
And I'm amongst the most broken of them all.

It's funny how culture, society, and your own history can work against you. I have worked through countless problems over and over and over and over and over again, and yet... they still manage to rear their ugly heads. They refuse to be tamed. They will take a back seat while I think I'm sorting my life, but in the end bite me in the butt. They won't be conquorerd. And every now and then I notice I am so very angry, when I generally have no right to be. Which makes me realize, things that have happened to us in the past will have to be beat down and down again.

It's not that they're not ultimately conquorered, they are. The blood of the lamb did that. Satan is conquerored and yet he still continues to rear his ugly head. I mean, look at the atrocities happening in Burma by a government in place to protect the people, but who are actually refusing aid and spending all their resources on keeping reporters out, rather than helping bury the dead and bring food and fresh water to its people. Look at China, and the horrible earthquake that killed so many. We still live in a fallen world. With fallen people. With fallen hopes, dreams, ideas, and marketing plans. But, Jesus is the conqueror. He won. He beat death and has one. I guess it's one of the paradoxes of the faith... why didn't Jesus just come back immediately after he rose from the dead and save us from such agony and pains? Why is he victorious, but from seemingly far away, in a world run amuk? To be honest, I have absolutely no idea. But I do know that when we do know why, we'll slap our heads and sigh "that makes SO much sense!" But, it's gonna be one day. Until then, we must get along in this fallen world ministering to the broken and poor. Not just economically poor--spiritually poor as well. Until then, we must keep fighting the anger battle. We must find something to work for with our own hands. We must find a cause to labor for while not being distracted by the alluring (and in themselve good) options.

In the end, I guess it comes down once more to remaining in God's love. Perhaps that's why life issues will surface and resurface, and not be healed instantaneously. As painful as it is, we can never forget who and what Jesus saved us from. Nor can we begin to think that our salvation was a one off thing and I can move on by myself, thank you very much. No. We must depend, love and trust on Jesus every day. Always turning back to him to help us.

And it absolutely sucks. I've always been one to sort things myself and get on with it. I hate having to feel like I must depend on anyone. Especially one who I cannot have a physical conversation with. I'm absolutely the worst at this. And it's something that I desperately need God to help me with. In this angry world yearning for him.

The New Course

2008-05-08T23:02:00.002+01:00

There are some things I never thought would change. And some things I thought that would. But the point here is not to dwell on what has been--as wonderful as it was; or what could be--as grand as once was imagined. The point here is to look at what is. To treat each day like a special gift. To love deeply. Loyally. Honestly. To lead with weakness, as someone put it recently. It's time to put away what once was, and open the book to what is.

At this point in my life, integrity is everything. It becomes more precious to me every day. This has to do with doing, not merely saying. Let us not stop at words when we are needed most. Let friendship be genuine and last a lifetime. Let none of us look down upon one another. Let repentence ring true. Let us be real. If I love, may it be too much rather than too little. If I live, may it not be a wasted life. If I die, may people say "here lies one loyal of heart." Let my life be one that rings true in and out, in word and in deed.

I'm in uncharted territory now. All I've ever known is gone along with most of the people as well. And that's ok. Because I have my Lord here at my side, and I love him more wholly with each passing moment. And new people are beginning to occupy places only recently vacated. Who would've thought? I have a very distinct feeling in my heart that I will end my days in a way I never imagined. It's kinda sad. But, I'm also rather looking forward to it.

Movie Etiquette

2008-02-22T23:45:00.002Z

Perhaps I'm just a bit peculiar. Perhaps I'm just a bit dim. Perhaps I long for a code of conduct that just disappeared when it comes to the glorious area of art. I am a movie connoisseur, I absolutely adore their story lines, cinematography, and flow. They are the modern world's escape as books have been in the past. Some are crap. Some inspire the imagination and spurn one on to a more pronounced and exciting life. Just like books. We won't use this time to debate which is the better medium (books), but I feel letting out a little rant about the indelicate disposition towards film and the consumerism of the feelings it portrays in this loveable modern world of ours.

Since moving to the UK, I've realized how entirely lucky I am to live in this time. Doctors, planes, music, travel, food, news. It's truly incredible how much is available to us all and instantaneously. But it's a status that's every changing. We have conversations over each other in a group. We disrupt. We generally have no regard for the idea of enjoying one thing at a time. We must have more. And so we have dinner in front of the television, with one person trying to speak and the others only half listening to the concerns, but really paying attention to who's dumped who in Coronation Street. It's truly sad that we value an imagined life more than the wonderful reality that's been given to us, that we cannot appreciate one thing, one conversation, one moment for itself.

But I digress. What has this to do with movies? Well, what we believe in one sector of our lives inevitably rolls over into the others. I believe a film is an invitation to step into another world, to leave your cares and worries behind and see life from a different perspective. It's an opportunity to learn life lessons from those who have lived, to judge literary styles and critique what is true with what is mere romanticism, secularism, or pluralism. It provides an inside look into a culture's gods and taboos--shows us what a culture finds important and what it neglects. It is chance to uproot yourself in your imagination and wander the corners of the created world on the most amazing stories that often only begin to parallel everyday life. Some are absolute rubbish and made for yet another instant high for our throw away culture to consume and forget in seconds. But there are others that are diamonds in the ruff. They are gems worth noting and remembering. Entering into the world created by a movie is almost like being invited into someone's life story, and I believe ought to be treated with the same respect. Now, granted, it is a movie. But if you are going to spend time and energy on something, you ought to throw your entire focus and attention onto it.

Tonight I watched a film with a wonderful family, a film I had been looking forward to see for ages. It was beautifully filmed and the script was incredible. However, the dear people I watched it with demonstrate my point immaculately. Lines were not heard because of constant crunching of crisps; random talks would break out and destroy an important moment.... and they wouldn't stop; the dad came in half way through and turned on the lights. We did not stop the movie, but had to wait for him to put on a lamp--a suprisingly demanding ordeal. He then proceeded to type and play videos, music and speeches over the very ending and dramatic bits of the film--the redemption, death scene and aftermath. I'm not gonna lie. I hate it when people talk and chatter during films. I hate it when they talk while someone is speaking. The absolute disrespect to the speaker and to those that are trying to listen and learn drives me up a wall.

Maybe my goal should be like Wilberforce. Eradicate slavery and reform society. Or maybe I should take a lesson from dear Aretha and push for Respect. Whichever way, something's gotta give and it ain't gonna be anything less than that.

The Forgotten Perks and Annoyances of Discipline

2008-02-11T00:16:00.000Z

I've always had this sort of romantic notion of waking early in the morn before the sunrise every day. I would wake before dark, then venture on to a walk to hear the birds chirping, sing praises to my saviour, have devotions, return home to journal and breakfast, then off to my daily duties. Every time I see films I have this yearning to wake up early in the morn and begin such a ritual. There is truly nothing like the fresh feeling of morning air as the sun's rays touch the earth for the first time in 12 hours. And I love it once I've experienced it.

Days are so much longer with so much more to be done in them. One can be so much more proactive. But then, when one is so unused to the excess time, you find yourself wondering how a person could actually spend 3 hours in conversation, or 2 in reading, or 2 in housework. You feel yourself stretched. And yearn for there to be much less time so you can actually go to bed. And therefore a new trend starts. The staying up all night and sleeping in til 1. There's something, I can't quite explain what it is, but there is most certainly something about going to sleep late. You can truly never be as refreshed with 8 hours sleep when you go to bed at 3 am as when you do at 9 pm.

And that brings us to another point. When one awakens at 5 in the morning, that person must either be extremely amazing to get through a day without much sleep at all, or they must go to bed around 8 or 9. In this day and age, how is such a life possible or bearable? One's social life would die in a week.

But, perhaps we could take a lesson from our dear friends, the Spanish. Their social world does not awaken until the late evening, yet they are up with the dawn. How is this possible? Simple. Naps throughout the day. What an incredible concept. And, oh, how it could revolutionize the western world. But, alas, our days are not constructed to withstand such a lifestyle.

In the past few years I have strayed towards the staying up all night and sleeping all day mentality. I'm a night person. I absolutely love the night. And when I wake early in the morning for the sun rise, I'm once more sleepy by 10 or 11. I do not like the amount of work I get done in my current lifestyle. But the mere concept of rising so early literally pains me. What solution does a poor child like me have? I want the night, but also the motion and puritan work ethic of the morning. I want my cake, and damn well would like to eat it too.

What's a girl to do? Well, I'm thinking of moving to Spain. Or, at least importing that culture here.

A Brief Retreat

2008-02-09T23:05:00.000Z

This weekend provides me with the first long weekend and short term vacation of 2008. I don't think I've looked so forward to getting away from it all since I've arrived in the UK. And what am I doing with myself? Well, as plans of retreating to a monastery to run to a few days in the life of contemplation have imploded, I've settled for the next best thing. My Tennessee buddies in Nairn, curry, chick flicks, wireless and all the books I could consume in a month. As much as I longed to get away from American culture, I can't help but feel a touch of comfort in their presence.

It's good to get in touch with your roots once more. Last night I attended a wedding and found comfort in the country music the overly talkative relative dj played. I'm a sentimentalist to the core, and when I'm away from something, I yearn for it. Like, now I yearn for Franklin and friends and American cooking, but when I return home, Scotland and England will call me, and I will wish for it's cold and rainy frontier all the more. The grass is always greener.

But the cool thing about roots is that they can be replanted. A plant can literally be halved and moved to a different place. Though I long for my other half in Franklin, that longing will never be fulfilled, since when I'm in Tennessee I will be longing for my other half that I left in the UK. That's the curse of growing, I suppose.

My kids here have officially adopted me as a daughter of Scotland. I claim that title and shall cling to it. If I can find some Welsh ties, I will be a child of the entire UK. I have found a distinctive love for a man in a kilt. There's honestly nothing quite like it. You may laugh and scorn for the moment, but one day, if you ever get the joy of experiencing this liberating love, you will understand our enthusiasm.

The Scots never cease to amaze me or delight me. In fact, I've become so used to the accent (I can even interpret Glaswegian for you) that every time I hear any English person, they immediately sound posh, whether a Scouser or chav or what. I fall more and more in love with this country every time I return to it. It has a piece of my heart forevermore.

In the next 2 days I plan to spend some much needed time seeking the Lord and clearing away a bunch of garbage and jarble that has broken into the path. It's like I need a white washing, and I'm really looking forward to getting it. I'm learning a lot of life lessons here, and it's definitely time to sit down and process them, take what I've learned and apply it to my plans for the future.

And hopefully watch a bit more rugby while I'm at it.

Wee Robby Burns

2008-01-25T21:59:00.000Z

Today is Burns night, the 2nd most popular night in Scotland, right behind Hogmaanay (New Year's) (ironically, still bigger than Christmas here) (because Scots liked to celebrate the new year as a new beginning in respect to Jesus' coming, and not on top of a pagan holiday). It's the night that Scots get together, eat haggis (surprisingly tasty if you don't think of what's in it), neeps and tatties (mashed turnips and mashed potatoes) and perhaps with a ceilidh and wearing of kilts. It's quite wonderful. Robby Burns is amazing, although you may actually need a translator for a lot of his Scottish slang. But in the end, it's well worth it. Well.

Today I went into this sweet antiquarian bookstore in Inverness called Leaky's. It's absolutely my favourite place. Inside I found an old book full of Burns' poems, a rich treasure trove of sentimentalism at its best. One interesting thing I discovered was that a lot of his poems were put to the tunes of old Scottish tunes so they'd actually be sung. How cool is that?!

Beyond all others, this is still my favourite. Yes, the first one I was introduced to, but still my favourite.

O MY LUVE'S LIKE A RED, RED ROSE

, MY Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my Luve's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

Truly wonderful, isn't it? Yes. Yes, indeed. And exactly what every girl should hold out for. Well, at least this one will...

The 08

2008-01-02T00:32:00.000Z

So, right now I'm in Cambridge having spent 8 lovely and restoring days with my dear momma. It's amazing how one can become so homesick for a person and a feeling. Nothing quite compares to being able to bare your soul with tears and have warm arms embrace you. It's comfort like I haven't known in 6 months.

I'm sitting here like a scared little girl. At the beginning of each year I generally have a feeling about what's to come. 2007 was so amazing I didn't get a chance to step back and prepare for the future. I arrived in Cambridge not really knowing what day it was and became shocked when Becca mentioned New Year's Eve plans. I was jolted awake, I suppose. 2006 was not a fun year save my first venture outside of the U.S. and the odd independence granted me through house sitting every now and again. I looked forward to 2007 so much. When the clock struck midnight amongst our little group fleeing the sulfuric smells of a natural hot water pool in Aspen, I felt different already. I was amongst friends and a general excitement filled the air. I couldn't wait for the next. Last night I was shocked that the year was over. It was full of so many firsts: graduation, England, Scotland, Germany, Switzerland, new friends, learning to make true cups of tea, eating haggis and black pudding, fish and chips, new worlds explored, cultural immersion, everything. I spent the last hours lamenting the end of such a good year and wandering what could be in store for the next. I spent the last few minutes praising God for who He is, for his many blessing, and praying fervently for the Holy Spirit to descend on this spiritual dead and dry land. In Cambridge. With Becca and Tom Green, two people I least expected but love dearly. But still, I find myself unenthusiastic. Maybe it's because of the decisions that will have to be made soon. Maybe it's because I'm so emotionally stretched I can't think of anything. Maybe it's because I'm being superstitious and loony. But whatever it is, I'm giving it to God. Being independent is a hard step. And I'm truly realizing what it means.

The truth is....

2007-12-14T17:41:00.000Z

I'm realizing that I actually need new inspiration. I've entered into a new phase in my life, and the old just doesn't suit. A new mantra is needed. Muse, beckon to my call.