Gearing Up and Downwinding

Have you ever made a decision so quickly that you feel as though it must be rash or misguided, but when you sit back after you have decided you find that every muscle in your body is finally at peace and you just can't help but smile? At that moment you know that, despite temporary emotional shock to the contrary, the decision you have made is the right one. Nothing could be so perfect. Nothing could make more sense.

I have had two recent decisions affect me in this way. The first (though second made) was introduced on Wednesday evening. Three days of consideration has led to a fairly decided heart: I am going to change my academic path from teaching to counselling.

Until this year I did not really understand the value of counselling. I had not understood how much weight can be released by simply opening your heart to a patient, relatively quiet, wise and gentle person. I still believe that I have the smarts and the creativity and even the dedication to wake up every morning and teach a class of tots how to multiply two digit numbers, if I wanted to... but my heart isn't in that anymore. I want to love people through more than a classroom. I want to love the people who so desperately need love - to love people who so desperately need Jesus.

So I'm mulling over the idea of counselling. I like the idea of maybe working in a high school (or even elementary), and being a guidance counsellor who gives counsel on more than class arrangements. The woman I went to in school was nowhere near a confidant to me, and so much of the time it is simply openness and gentleness that kids need to have access to and don't. Sometimes the closest thing that a child will get to a loving parent is a caring teacher... but teachers can not take a half an hour out of every day to build relationships with each kid in their class, and they can not sit down and help them through tough decisions and secrets. That is where the guidance counsellors come in, if they are doing their job right; they become whatever that particular child needs them to be. Sometimes that is moving around classes - but sometimes it is so much simpler and more relational than that... a listening ear, a sympathetic voice, some wise advice, a safe place to just sit. I want to be that space, that person, that office for kids who need it. So, I am finishing my B.A. in English and then I am going (somewhere) to get a counselling diploma. As I figure out the details I will let you know.

The second decision was made, at least in part, about a month and a half ago. The same decision will not be formally made until June when he comes home to meet my family, at which point a whole lot more of this story will come out. But for now, this is a tip to all you would-be matchmakers in my life; God has done a better job with pairing my heart than I can even begin to understand (and He didn't need our help!). On that note, to all of you who are still feeling lonely at the top of your tower: don't give in to the temptation to let your hair down. Guys who have to pull on your hair to get into your life will just give you a head and heart ache. The right guy, a guy who's worth the wait and who knows you're worth the effort, will learn how to scale the wall even without your assistance. Some are so determined that they will camp at your locked window and knock on the glass until you finally break down and open it. Ladies, such a pursuit is well worth the waiting, and I can finally speak that with absolute confidence.

So, as my academic year is (finally) coming to a close the rest of my life seems to be bursting forward in revelation and reality. Two more weeks of placement and several weeks of summer prep (that I am SO excited for!) are on their way, then summer in full swing... but more on that another time.

For now, enjoy the sunshine and the leafing trees, the company of others and the hope that comes with tomorrow.

Oh, the Weather Outside...

Winter itself has been acting a little bipolar this year, and so is it any surprise that my moods have daily been following suit? This morning was bright and clear as I woke up with a comfortable kind of stretch and a snuggle back to sleep like a cat in the sun. By the time I opened my eyes again (at 8:00 for my 8:30 class) I was in a bit of a flurry to prepare and (thanking God for my chipper cabby) the wind picked up the snow and blew me right to my seat with a minute to spare. An hour later I was lost in the world of heavy flakes and white skies as the wonderland beyond my desk told me stories of wintry walks in a Narnian kind of place. The parking lot has never seemed so adventurous. Now as I sit indoors, en route to class in a moment or two, I stare out at my peers as they frolic in the fresh fallen flakes with a blended felling of melancholy, envy and contentment that is quite suited to the huge, soppy clumps of snow that are blanketing my northern world. The weather changes quickly – as fast as life itself – and keeping pace can be a difficult thing, even in the simplest of ways.

Classics Notes...

I'm sure this is bad form but I'm not sure what else to do. Until this evening I've had no complaints about my lovely new MacBook - but now, as I sit in my lecture hall with naught but this computer, I'm at a loss - I do not have my notebook which I didn't expect to be a problem, but surprise! It really is. Why? I have a Mac... and Macs do not have Word.

So, here I am with Internet but without Word and so I'm going to take my notes here, for the world to see. Welcome to CLAS 2146 and forty-five minutes in the academic life of yours truly.

Kypselid Policy

Many tyrants in Ancient Greece funded one of four major, acknowledged Games (i.e. the Olympic Games) to show off and increase their own reputation. They favoured the lower classes over the aristocracy (gain control over and support of the majority of the population) and established their rule by extensive, violent military power.

In Corinth, Kypselos (a tyrant) exiled the Corinthians and those he did not banish he castrated (a generation of eunuchs ends their population). When he finished his rule, his son took over and for a time was not so violent but he ended up being even worse, killing any suspicious or outstanding and potentially threatening people under his control. Together they ruled for about 70 years.

Corinth became a very, very important cultural and economic centre under the Kypselid Dynasty. Why did it end? Basically Periander (the son) ticked off enough of his enemies that they banded together, expelled him and took over, establishing an oligarchy (aristocratic rule).

Tyranny of Sicyon

Reminder: history is sketchy in the archaic period because we don't have any recorded evidence until nearly 200 years later... It's a lot of interpretation and guess work which is what makes it difficult to trust what I'm learning, or personally invest my mind here.

Sicyon was a victor at the Games and expanded them while he was in rule... he replaced the flute-singing competition and added the chariot race. Attaboy, get those horses going and ditch the arts... a macho move, but an effective one for raising his popularity scores.

Polyrates/Samos Tyranny

535 BC(E) power is taken over by three brothers (until Polyrates kills one brother and exiles the other) and the island is set up as a military naval power. He sets up political ties with the king of Egypt and gets building and expanding (plundered and captured a whole load of people - a pirate king of the Mediterranean... and captures the Lesbians?).

Built a huge tunnel/aqueduct on the island (900 feet under a mountain?!) which still survives.

Death of: he was crucified with his men by Magnesia and the Persians free the people (disposed of the leaders) and then take over.

Gela on Sicily

505 BC(E) mercenaries (lead by Cleander) from the outside take over and rule until he was assassinated in 498 and is followed up by his brother (Hyppokrates) who rules in his stead and tries to expand (where he is killed trying to conquer another city). When the city finds out their tyrant is dead, chaos is temoratily restored until Gelon takes over and establishes his tyranny until 478 BC(E).

Gosh this shrinking BC-AD timeline is confusing. And my prof is moving SO fast!!

Herodotus: "Gelon pretends to protect his son but then he basically turned on everyone and took over. When a tyranny is established the polis (city) begins to flourish... but the people are not fond of him and it's a mutual distaste."

Gelon: "You're a jerk, men of Hellas, and I can't trust you. You're asking me to help but last time I helped you you bailed on me hardcore. But I'm better than you and I will help - I will send you men and provisions... but you have to let me be the ruler of everything." (They said "Thanks but no thanks.")

Question to the class: "Is there something about the surviving accounts of Greek Tyrants that causes you to be cautious?" Potential biases of their sources: there are huge gaps (roughly 200 years) between the actual event and the records. They are very similar in pattern and so it is very mythologized: a prophesy of the oracle, come to power with good intentions, suffer from hubris (arrogant pride), they are corrupted and they fall and order is restored by another power.

Tyranny leads to irresponsible abuse of power? Can't be assumed but there sure are a lot of examples. However, "if anybody goes against the demos (people) he is to be overthrown immediately by the boule (judges?) and the tyrant and his decendants are to be stripped of all rights forever," at least in Athens.

The Balanced Perspective

Tyranny is very close to democracy - popular of the common people and takes them into account. Brings a more even distribution of wealth, relieve debt and make improvements to the economy. "You harm your enemies and help your friends."

Euergetism (structural growth of the city, etc) and tyranny go hand in hand... To come? Sparta! Class over! Run away!

Well, I hope you've enjoyed dipping your toes into Ancient Greece. I've learned that it is unspeakably difficult to take notes on the computer and pay attention to the visual stimuli in my lecture. I can't type without my hunt-and-peck when under the pressure of keeping up with someone else's thoughts... so, next class I will be back to my good old pen and pad.

Soon I will write a note worth reading. Until then, I leave you with this one little-known-fact that I picked up in my biblical studies today. When locusts swarm there are as many as 40 million to 80 million locusts in one square kilometre! Makes you think twice about the eighth plague, eh? Not fun for Egypt. Not fun at all.

Yes Click, No Click

There are many clicks to be clicked in this world, but as with everything the simple fact that you are able doesn’t mean that you should. The click is a very serious thing; it is irreversible as you cannot, however much you might want to, unclick something. Because of this (perhaps obvious) reality, I am taking it upon myself to educate, warn, guide and direct your clicks so that you may discover the wonders and avoid the perils of this oh-so-clickable planet.

The CAMERA: If you’re set up for a photo-shoot with four modest-meets-beautiful-meets-gothic-clown-meets-backcombing-meets-sugar clad young women, I encourage you to YES, CLICK. The opportunity for such joyful fun comes but once in a blue moon and unfortunately less and less frequently as girls grow up up and away – so take advantage of such moments and do all that you can to capture them in time and photography. If, however, you find yourself in a particularly awkward or compromising situation whether for yourself or another, NO CLICK I tell you! Don’t do something you’ll regret. Save face the honest way and close that shutter.

The LINK: These newly invented digital punctuation marks are absolutely brilliant – please feel free to YES, CLICK here for a cool Pomplamoose song (quickly becoming one of my favourite bands), or here to download a free audiobook of nearly any genre, or here to learn a new guitar chord or even here which will just be a mystery unless you try it. But I stretch out my bright yellow reflective caution tape because not all links are good! For example, most of the links that have been showing up in the comment sections on this blog are NO CLICK links! (GAH! I am not popular enough to have to deal with spam!) So, how can you tell if a comment is author-approved? I’ll go on record with my criterion: ads for dieting and weight loss are spam and you are super beautiful, links in Chinese or other character-based languages are spam and I’m almost sure if I could understand what such posts say I would be either embarrassed or offended, and finally links that have anything to do with sex are spam. Sex is for married people, not for bloggin’ so NO CLICKin’ either... but if you want to hit the link below called “comment” and say something encouraging or profound from time to time that would be maahhhvelous and might help to emotionally balance out the spam. Just saying.

The REMOTE: When the television is doing something you don’t want it to be doing (for example, any one of the carbon-copy CSI episodes) then absolutely, YES CLICK to something more interesting even of the same general genre (for example, Castles). The only time you should NO CLICK the remote when there is something less than educational or entertaining on the screen is if someone who you respect and/or is bigger and/or stronger than you has chosen to view it. In such an event I suggest you find something else to do with you time – like find a book or brush your teeth or bake some cookies. (If you do the latter please save me one.)

The RETRACTABLE PEN: I need to be very clear with this one, especially as it is my last: NO CLICK!

And there you have it, folks; the thumbs-up and thumbs-down of responsible button usage.

Just as an addendum to Jami: I know you were hoping for more than a vague nod towards our Christmastime adventures and that being one of four unnamed girls mentioned so briefly above hardly satisfies the efforts you made to “get on the blog,” so this is really only a taste to tide you over until I can come home again – and then the three or four of us girls who are kicking around will have to have an adventure that merits its very own entry. Something with umbrellas, perhaps... and chocolate milk. How does that sound for a deal?

Adventures of Chai Spice

I had to laugh at myself tonight. I thought I would give you the opportunity to join me in the light-hearted mockery and quickly relay my tale.

As I began to settle in for another long night of work (and distraction), I set my kettle to boil. From time to time I change up my ritual hot chocolate for something a little lighter and a little less like the warm, soothing segue into dream that cocoa is, especially on wintry nights. Usually I'm a peppermint girl when it comes time for tea. I love the smell, the taste and the feeling of peppermint - it too has a soothing effect but without the automatic reaction of my sinking eyelids. Even my sugarless peppermint, however, has had very little effect on my ability to stay up later than usual, recently. And tonight I learned why.

Did you know that some teas are not caffeinated? Did you know that some actually announce "no caffeine" on their labels? Some tea tins even make it brilliantly obvious, in a different colour and an interesting font that practically begs to be read. Maybe if I'd have been more awake I would have noticed... but then I wouldn't have needed the tea.

So, tonight my peppermint is not overly helpful, and it's "no caffeine" twin in cinnamon will also remain in my cupboard. Luckily (or perhaps fiendishly), my Mom once left a bag of Home-groceries here in my home and one of the magical inheritances I stashed away was a box of "Chai Spice Black Tea," quite appropriately from the "Stash Premium" collection. I was a little skeptical at first (it was a box of individually packaged paper bags, the kind of box I associate more with hotel continental breakfasts than my little kitchen table), but after unwrapping and steeping my first mug of tea, I must admit I'm very impressed.

Good taste, Mom... I think I'll keep the rest of the box...

It does not mix!

Lessons from my weekend:
1)Beautiful gowns and long gloves do not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
2)The making and eating of caramel corn does not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
3)The making and eating of quesadillas does not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
4)My guitar and a fat binder of worship music do not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
5)TV, Facebook, MySpace, YouTube and my blogs do not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
6)Comfortable seating and warm rooms do not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
7)Uncomfortable seating and cold rooms also do not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
8)Unsupervised study time does not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
9)Study time spent in the company of others does not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
10)Blank Word documents do not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
11)The internal distraction of things that are eternally more important than Language and
      Rhetoric does not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
12)Visual access to any kind of clock does not mix with Language and Rhetoric.
13)Everything does not mix with Language and Rhetoric!

When there is this much snow outside, when the pretty lights are up, when I have Christmas cards to write, a blanket to finish, my room to clean and pack and when home is so close... school just feels meaningless, like the first chunk of Ecclesiastes.

Please! I just want to go home!

Chronicles of My (Almost) 61 Hr Day

7:54 Mistake number one? Leaving six final projects unfinished until the last two days of school. Mistake number two? Not even starting six final projects until the last two days of school. Please don’t take this as a horrifying testimony to my character (and Mom, please don’t let this stress you out. By the time you read this it will all be a thing of the past. You said it best... I work best and almost only under pressure). It will get done! It will all get done on time! And this little chronicle will help me prove it.

I woke up at about nine o’clock this morning. As I figure it, if I can make use of all of tonight, tomorrow and tomorrow night I will have all of my work done for each respective class and retain time to prep for my group presentation on Wednesday night. I have played this game before and I have learned a few tricks. For all of you would-be crammers and procrastinators, take a lesson from a professional and DON’T! It’s really not worth it. But if you must, here are a few tips:

First: Don’t try to push past your attention span. When the writing is a struggle and you can’t think straight, move on to something else. Try another project or watch a short YouTube video, write a letter, read a comic, do push-ups or jumping jacks or take a shower or go by some Macs Milk... something to give your brain a change or a rest... then come back to your work. That’s a very key part.

Second: Don’t nap! Trust me on this one. Napping quickly turns into hibernation, especially when you’re feeling overwhelmed. Personally, I think it’s internal mafia action... your brain and your body override your conscience and work ethic and then it’s lights out for everybody. Resist your pillow’s seduction by all means possible. It’s a trap.

Third: Look forward to the sunrise. If you don’t see them often, it’s worth staying up just for that. Last time I played this game the sun woke up around 5:00 but something tells me it’s later in the wintertime. We shall see!

So for now I’m off to work. I have to read a whack for my Language and Rhetoric project... actually, I need to find the outline for that project first... so I think that’s job number one. And here we go!

9:03 Well... you can’t expect every hour to be a productive one, but I have hoped that the first one would have more to show for it. I did find two course syllabi and the sketch of a horse from a while back and some pirate stickers, but then I checked facebook and looked up one (okay, seven) song(s) on YouTube... The plan is a good one, I swear, but getting the work and the distractions in the right order is proving a sliver trickier than I had hoped. Let’s try this again...

9:10 Huzzah! The outline has been recovered. And good news, I don’t actually need a thesis for this one.

9:58 Shakespeare (assuming you are not one of the “there is no such man, it’s all a clever ruse” conspiracy theorists who doubt everything ever attributed to the playwright), composed a whopping 154 sonnets. A sonnet is a poem of fourteen lines that follows a very specific rhythm and rhyme scheme... so my question is, has Billy done an incredible feat of literary genius, or is this collection simply one good system that has been beaten into the ground for all it’s worth? What is more impressive: Shakespeare and his 154 sonnets (of echoing structure) and his 38 plays (of borrowed and stolen plot), or the collection of 86 Relient K songs that express an array of emotion not only through form but with the added layer of vocal harmony and creative instrumental movement? A course on layered lyrics... now that’s a class worth taking!

10:41 I hereby present the award for Best and Worst Invention of All Time to The Internet! Clap, clap, clap...

11:26 I’m toying with the idea of sleep. This challenge would top the charts of LAME if I didn’t follow through after getting this far in. And, if I quit I’m going to have a brutal life tomorrow not handing in my work... so I guess I have to hit these books a little harder. I’m currently setting aside the Language and Rhetoric phonemics project in favour of my Children’s Lit assignment: “In the original Puss in Boots, the cat was female. How does this change affect the story?” Right up my alley!

12:31 I think this will be easier when everybody else goes to bed. I just watched a Caesarean on YouTube (who posts such videos?!) with my nursing roommate. Then we looked into bunion surgery... I think I’ll keep my mutant feet. I also refilled my champagne glass (of Sprite... we just love stemware) and now I’m back to work, making slow progress... but progress nonetheless! One more thing: Phil Wickham’s “You’re Beautiful” is an amazing song. Go look it up. You can’t help but smile and feel empowered to praise!

7:43 F-A-I-L. My roommate just woke me up. Blasted pillows! How, how, do they pull me in every time?! So tricky.

2:01 I need a chiropractor! I don’t know whether it’s the stress or aftermath of my pumpernickel breakfast, but something is not right in my body today! I feel the need to find a corner and assume the fetal position. Please, Friday! Come quickly!

3:39 Who wants to bet that I'll focus better at home than here at school? Yeah, I don't really think so either. But I did get some work done for my Dad. Why didn't I go into marketing and creative design? It sounds like a LOT more fun than my grammar project right now! Ah well. One exam out of the way and five more major cumulative assignments still due... But who's counting.

9:50 Hopefully tonight will go a little better for me. I have a lot of work to do, but I’m feeling a lot more focused. Let’s knock a few of these off my list! (Geography lab, Children’s Lit essay, Genre presentation, Genre essay, LangRhet project. And go!) Ps. Heather’s humming very loudly in the kitchen. It’s a happy sound. A little... Pirates of the Caribbean, maybe?

11:29 Okay. So, this one lab is going to take a little longer than I anticipated. I really hope all of my projects don’t follow the same pattern! I secretly do want to sleep tonight!

12:39 I really need a back and shoulder and neck massage. I don’t even remember a time I’ve felt sorer and I’m growing a headache (but that’s probably from the Sprite; I don’t have pop often and it messes with my body when I do). Where is that affectionate boyfriend of mine when I need him? Oh right. I don’t have one...

12:52 Sleeeeeeepp... How I long for thee. Time for a change of scenery... more Bible perhaps? Yes, I think I will.

1:42 Success! One project out of the way! Take that, Geography! Never again shall I struggle through your endless tedious map-reading and number-crunching. From now on I throw the directions out the window! Navigation by rock-paper-scissors and when in doubt turn left: that’s my philosophy.

2:32 Wow. I could really use a nap to follow my shower. I always think it will wake me up, but it always seems to have the opposite effect. I was so pumped a half hour ago... now I’m fighting with gravity to keep my eyes open. What a bad plan!

9:44 So, I did have that nap. And I did fall asleep. Shocker. So, what am I going to do today? I’m not exactly sure yet...

10:41 There is hope for me yet! I now have a thesis for both of my papers and an with an outline for my presentation it shouldn’t take long. Now I’m heading into the school to my last Geography class ever (I’m really broken up about it. I’ll miss this course so much! *I’m getting all choked up over here, blink back the tears*). Hopefully I’ll finish everything but the LangRhet project at school today and hand it all in, then with that one project left (not really due until Friday) I will be able to come home and watch Glee tonight in relative peace. Now that is a goal I can work towards! I’m almost out of this madness! YES!

1:08 So, I’m sitting in the library, staring at a creative first paragraph for the paper that is due in only five hours. “Electronic hypertext is a world of fragments. Each thought is its own text and each word has a unique history and a potential future. For the reader, a well constructed electronic hypertext is the beginning of a new reality, one of never ending trails to wander into, a tangled snare designed to help you lose your mind and gain, in exchange, something completely different: a self-aware social consciousness.” Not bad for a first draft, but it has nothing to do with my thesis. Some days I really hate assignments. I want to create! I don’t want to be limited by the ideals of another! I’m sick of writing to please my professors instead of writing to simply express or learn or teach. These lines seem so… dead. This work is petty! Useless! How is this going to help me teach children? Can this further my relationships or foster a love for anything? Can I find God in this area of study? Can it be applied to any realm of my life? Is this education ultimately worth anything? School is about jumping through hoops as much as it is training for a career and a life outside of these (often prison-bare) corridors and classrooms. I’m over the novelty of university and all I see now is futility. I need a hobby… I need a more involving ministry. I need a better reason than classes to stay in North Bay. The world is calling my name! My heart wants to be in Mexico or Argentina or India or Egypt or Iran or Africa, really making a difference in the lives of the people who God has called me to love. I need to be a physical help to someone. I need to have more impact on this world than an academic opinion that means and says nothing because it is a passionless organization of regurgitated information. God has given me gifts, but I don’t know how to use them in this place. Maybe that’s my problem… I just need to learn how to make my life eternally important here. God, show me how.

1:49 My friend Andrew has given me some tips that are apparently proven effective for staying up all night. He’s pretty sleep deprived, so I’m betting they come from experience:

First: “Find yourself a support group.” MSN chatting with others is a good way to keep accountable… or distracted. The only risk is falling into an actual conversation, which I tend to do. Maybe I’ll try this one out though… I just need to find some friends who are successful night-owls.

Secondly: no comfortable furniture. “The trick is to take all the cushions off your couch and just sit on the springs.” It seems like it would be a more successful plan than my futon or my bed… those plans led to failure quickly.

2:37 Peppermint Patties are my new favourite chocolates. I’m addicted. There’s no going back.

3:11 BAH, this computer doesn’t have Internet access!! How am I supposed to source this without the sources??

3:22 I wrote a verse up on the whiteboard earlier. I do it pretty frequently. Before I went to the bathroom I had a conversation with a woman I didn’t know about how she loves reading them and seeing them up on the wall. When I came back to my computer there were three people on the opposite side of my computer bank talking about it too… they’re currently looking up Bible verses about hell and wrath to counter it. Isn’t it amazing how a simple verse of encouragement can spark such a reaction? There is no middle ground with God – you have to choose a side – but this is the most dramatic clash I’ve seen here yet. Will it stop me from writing up there? Nope. In fact, it makes me want to do it more. God is moving and I want to be part of that.

3:44 25% done this paper and freaking out a bit! Any time that adrenaline wants to kick in, that would be amazing.

4:20 Pretty much half done. I need to find at least one source though.

11:45 Well. I did get almost everything done, but I have to say this was far less successful than I had hoped. I finished my essay, and I presented my presentation. With only two things left on my agenda I’m feeling a lot more peace. Christmas is almost here! And on that note I leave you – but keep your eyes peeled for a lot more posts in the next few weeks. With more time off I’ll be able to finish all those stories I’ve been half writing this term! And working on some pre-January homework, of course.

I wish I could think of something epic to end this with. A joke perhaps? Or just a punchline?

“And then the florist said, ‘But I only paid a dollar fifty!’”

BAHAHAHAHAHA!

Dead Man's Path

It is often said that when seeking to understand another's point of view you must walk for a while in his shoes. Of course, this is not often assumed to be a literal suggestion. It's a metaphor, an idea, a change of perspective that does not actually require the physical experience... but what if you did take it seriously? What if you could walk a mile in another's shoes... or socks?

I have told you before of my well-loved, second-hand wardrobe. I often marvel at second-hand things because, without knowing what the histories of the objects are, I know they have a rich past and I'm sure if my inanimate possessions suddenly became sentient each would have a wonderful story to tell. I often wander Sally Ann or Value Village looking for something that is simply too unique and special to be found in chain stores and that simply must be added to my (admittedly and proudly odd) collection; let's take last week as an example.

Nine days ago I spent the best eight dollars I have ever spent in Salvation Army: snow pants, but not just any snow pants... empire waist, bright red-orange Korean snow pants complete with suspenders and armpit-side-panel stretchy bands and one single pocket that is angled awkwardly backwards to the right hip. They are incredible. (Really, you don't even know. I love them. You will probably read more about my adventures with these snow pants and winter gets deeper. I spent longer than I should have jumping up and down in the change room celebrating and grinning madly to myself over my find.)

That day I also picked up some things that I don't usually get second-hand. You see, in the bin of headscarves (I found two that day... 50 cents each! How can Walmart compare?) were three pairs of socks. Most of my socks I either buy at a department store or I steal them from my Mom or my sisters when I go home, but I've been losing socks at a ridiculous rate lately (I blame the gremlinens... I'll write you a story about them soon) so on a whim I picked them all up and tossed them in with my other purchases (the glorious snow pants, three old books, a gold ball gown for Missa, etc).

I didn't think much of them at first. All three pairs made themselves home comfortably in my top drawer and I let them be for a while (enamoured by the snow pants and distracted by other things in my life). Then Friday came.

This past weekend was my extended family Christmas. We skipped the reunion in 2008 so there was two full years of catching up to be done this time 'round the tree. Naturally I left minor preparatory details like packing and laundry until the bitter end (signified by my Dad standing in my bedroom doorway ready to take me back Home). With nothing ready I was forced to do what I always seem forced to do... the three-minute-run-and-pack-everything-dance. Needless to say, in the flurry of my chaotic bag-stuffing adventure all three pairs of second-hand-store socks made their way into my suitcase.

Friday night was a ball! After I stealthily squirreled away my Christmas gifts (muahahaha, family! Good luck with the treasure hunt this year! It's going to be epic!), Mom and I re-discovered the mutated Scrabble-esque game called Banannagrams and I dominated, as usual. Tim came down for the weekend as well and braved the evening and trip down without his fair maiden to keep him company in the madness that our home can be at times. He was in for a mess of harassment for being the first beau to show up at Christmas with a third generation girl. (They actually let him off way too easy in my opinion. But then, they didn't have any snow banks to make use of this year...) And all this time my socks stayed nestled away in my bag... but not for long.

Saturday. My cold feet drove me to pair of socks number one... the infamous pair, the cottony climax of my story. They seemed nothing unusual. They seemed generally average. They were just a tick too long, but not so much that I was consciously unsettled, and they had a small tag by the arch of my foot. I probably should have read that tag. But I did not. I believe it was Carolyn who first muttered the accusatory, frightening phrase: "Nik... whose socks are you wearing?"

Not mine.

The name, clearly labelled and stitched into the very fabric of the knitted hosiery, was not my name. How long did my family laugh at me? How long did I spend keeled-over in hysterics? A long, long time. It was kind of wonderful.

So I have a pair of someone else's socks. I don't know, of course, but I suppose someone who takes the time to sew tags onto a pair of brown socks in good condition probably doesn't give them up without cause. I suppose he's probably dead. He may be alive and well, but I think the odds are high.

Where have these socks been? Who was it that wore them before? What is their past, their history, their story? Suddenly the questions that were always a mildly vague afterthought to second-hand wonders have been wearing on me. I guess it’s silly. It’s all pretty silly. But, then again, maybe it’s not. Can God use even something as silly as an old pair of stockings to capture my attentions and drag wandering thoughts back to Himself? Of course He can. So, stranger-friend of mine, I don’t know anything more than your name and room number, but today you and your family are getting some prayer. Your hand-me-down socks have reminded me that people I don’t know need as much prayer and attention of intention as my friends and family.

Pick a stranger, someone, anyone, no matter their mood. Pray for them. Take a minute and step into their socks… and offer a smile of encouragement and a prayer of help as you cross paths. God only knows how much they could use a little holy intervention today.

Why Grape?!

Sometimes my life is a lot like a paper muffin wrapper filled with mildly liquefied grape jello. You might think that such a metaphor is pretty weird, until you actually make grape jello in paper muffin wrappers and then leave it out for a few hours. Right out of the fridge it’s a brilliant plan – self contained and flexible, no spoon required – but if you ignore it and don’t tend after it carefully it tends to ooze out of its thin boundary and it loses all structural integrity. This is almost okay if you catch it in time and stick that sucker back in the chill, but when you’re not paying attention and your grab the wrapper by one of its crinkly edges, that wiggly little piece of joy turns into a humungous splattered mess all over the carpet.

Welcome to my life, kershplamm! ...blob on the floor.

[Heather: sorry for the stain that my reality-based metaphor has left in the living room...]

Eeew. Grammar.

If, when you wake up in the morning the first thought on your mind is of a grammatical nature, if you find yourself scribbling verb conjugations on the corners of your napkin, if your favourite song is "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly, Get Your Adverbs Here" and you love it enough to walk down the aisle to it on (arguably) the most important day of your life, you should take a Language and Rhetoric course. If any of those examples made you whisper "No, thank you" to yourself (or made you, like me, laugh aloud at the prospect), you really have no business in ENGL 2025.

All you would-be English majors... don't say I didn't warn you.

Fifteen Minutes & Counting

I can't believe how quickly this past year has gone for me. I have learned so much, done so much and grown so much, but in some ways I feel quite the same... time is funny like that; summer to summer I feel like the school year somehow collapses into itself, and in a flash it's summer again and I'm grasping at the last few moments before I am overwhelmed by teenagers and the chaos they bring to camp. Similarly, in September I feel as though the summers fold into themselves, like a paper I can stick in my back pocket - just a memory, just a moment - and it's school again.

Ten more minutes of normalcy. Looking into the next year I can honestly say that I have no idea what will come. I'm going back to school, but what will I learn? Who will I meet? How will I serve? What can I teach and do and say and be for Him? Will I find love? Will I find a job? Will I get stronger in my faith and mind and body? What will happen? I have peace in not knowing the answers right now. God is moving, God is active, Jesus does love me and I am learning to love Him back. i know that I will learn even though I don't know what. I know that I am dearly loved, whether that affection will come from my family and friends or a man; God's got me, and so i needn't be anxious, nervous or fearful... but I am excited!

Even this summer holds so many mysteries for me. I'm leading the Junior High program at MBC, and (praise God!) I have a full staff of three under me. Who will they be? How can I help them grow? what can I learn from them? (More questions, always more questions.)

Five more minutes. After lunch our grounds will be bursting with people - parents bringing their kids to work, kids dragging luggage and instruments and siblings behind them as they move in, staff trying to usher them into the right rooms and randoms... well, we're not always sure what the randoms are doing, but sometimes they pitch in and lend a hand.

Three minutes. Someone is whistling down the hall from my room, my guitar is still in the laundry room, my left pant leg is wet and dampening my right sock and I didn't take out my garbage this morning. The last minute thoughts are always a little obscure. One more minute.

What will your summer hold? Maybe you don't know yet - but I encourage you to make the most of every opportunity you are given. Learn, love, serve, sing, walk, wait, wander, explore, enthuse, embrace and encourage.

Escaping the North

We have had enough of the ice and snow! And yes, for the record, there are still small patches of God's fluffy white plague around our property. I have instructed my luggage to pack itself efficiently as I write this letter to the world, so I figure (according to the evolution theory) I still have a few million years before my clothing sprouts legs and figures out a decent folding technique. Of course (according to reality), I really should get up there and speed the process along but I did want to write up a bit of an update on my life, and the self-packing bags is the most creative excuse I can come up with tonight for taking time to sit and type. (I have been back in the public school system for five days and my cleverness has been spent. Futhermore I must confess that the math is not any easier with nine more years of schooling under my belt... fractions are still make me nervous and my spelling hasn't improved much either.) All of this ado to say... Well, not much of anything, yet.

Tonight my mother, father, two sisters and I will be catching a series of transportation devices en route to the land of sunny skies and freckly skin. This will be our first official family adventure and I don`t think any of us know just what to expect when we get there... lots and lots of heat, hopefully! We are armed with our plans, of course - but sometimes plan and reality have very few things in common. but, regardless of whether or not we end up doing exactly what we are planning, I know that God has a plan that is so much bigger than anything we can put together on an itinerary - and His plans are not subject to the will of the weather or bank. (In fact, it`s quite the opposite!) So I am trusting Him with the big stuff as well as the detailed bits. He`s got it under control - so as long as we are in prayer and making sure that our plans line up with His, I know we`ll be good and safe and happy.

So maybe you`re going to be working this week and stuck in the four-degree weather that the forecasters are forecasting, and you`re going to avoid reading my post-trip post because of insane vacational jealousy, and you`re wondering if there is any possible application from this note to your life... Well, there is: you are a good person. And that should make you happy. Maybe not quite as happy as I am right now, but still enough to bring a smile to your heart. Have a great week!

Primavera Pastimes

Summer always feels like a time of incredible potential. There is a fantastic sense of suspense that lingers in the air for what time away from the normality of school life might bring. Summer is adventurous, there is a longing for new experiences, an awakening of the whole natural world, and in many ways, a reawakening internally. For me, I can feel the change of seasons in my imagination - suddenly I am creating stories and projects for myself left and right, I feel drawn to pen and paper (and computer) to scribble the ideas down lest they evaporate as quickly as they came. I find myself wanting to be out-of-doors, on my roof, on my bike and with my camera; I want to capture the freshness of the rain and the power of the wind and preserve the feeling of growth and progress as long as possible. Spring. Summer. Whom except God has insight to what the next few months will bring for me when one day can change so much, one week even more!

I am playing a song over in my mind that I learned when I was quite young: "I'm just a child, my life is still before me, I just can't wait to see what God has for me, but I know that I can trust Him and I'll wait to see what life will bring for me." I think that these words are just as applicible to me now as they were when I was seven. Every day I am living in anticipation of the life that God is planning.

Besides, it's spring! Be happy, find joy in the renewal of the earth and take time to recognize the beauty in green grass, blooming flowers and budding trees. Sit on a bench for a while - who knows what could happen? Go for a walk, dust off your boardgames and hide the remote; try something new! Life is full of posibilities, mysteries and beautiful things. And remember to smile. Always smile.

Dear Reader

Dear Reader.

I just wanted to send you a quick note, and tell you that I do, in fact, still possess the ability to write. I have recently been doing a lot of writing of both the creative and forced variety, though I never seem to have a keyboard at hand when the stories demand to be told. Someday, perhaps a day not too far into the future, I will sit and type out the pieces and ideas that I have been scrawling onto my notepaper... but tonight is not that night. Tonight is for a little more of that required writing, and then, hopefully, for a little sleep. I miss sleep, almost as much as I miss writing for fun, and feeling appreciated for my efforts, even if my fan base extends only a little ways beyond Mom and Dad. And you, of course. I didn't mean to neglect you. I just got got caught up in the dramatic monologue of it all. But I guess to fall into that category I would have to unwittingly confess something embarrassing... thank goodness I'm too clever to be caught is that trap. There is now way, for example, that I would even subtly imply that I am watching Veggie Tales at 2am for the sheer enjoyment of it. No, it is not something that you need to dwell on, and so I will, naturally, keep such information to myself.

That is about all the lettering my brain can handle right now. I hope that you are doing well. Say "hi" to your neighbour for me, please. Tell them I love their lilac tree and I can't wait for Spring so I can watch them bloom up!

I would continue, but my eyelids rebel and gravity and weariness are winning quickly! Have a good morning or a wonderful day or a restful night, depending on when you read this!

Take care;
Author

The Nurture Reflex

Boys and girls are different creatures. The knowledge of this fact is something I have possessed for a long time; physical dissimilarities have been pointed out since, memorably, my fourth grade Sex-Ed class with that far-too-repetitive song, “My body’s nobody’s body but mine” and other such public school scarred-for-life nonsense. I’ve notices emotional differences as well, generally associated with the response to a heartbreaking country music song or sappy “chick flick” farewell scene... ladies tend to bat their lashes rapidly, pretending to be subtle about the coming tears in the presence of certain company, while guys usually crack a few well-timed jokes that serve to spoil the mood and break the tension. Last week I witnessed yet another distinction between the two sides of the gender coin: social response to injury.

If you have ever played any kind of hockey, be it on street or rink, you are well aware of the potential for injuries and the natural roughhousing play that comes with such team sports. If you haven’t already come to understand this as true, let me assure you, accidents do happen, and they are dealt with promptly by those close by. Allow me to provide you with an example which is, conveniently, the true inspiration for this particular piece.

I live down the road from a house full of guys and last Saturday they organized an event of sorts – hockey day all day – kicking off their celebration of everything sticks and jerseys with a game of road hockey, which seems to be the recent male-bonding activity of choice (bringing us to another point of difference... girls bond better over munchies, football and red-rover). The guys had been out there for a good amount of time in the many-degrees-below-zero weather before the hand of fate (or more accurately the elbow of Tim and face of Kyle) interrupted their fun.

In the World of Girl, when someone starts to bleed seriously from any part of their body, there is a very specific and well practiced routine that takes action at first sight of the wound. It’s our Nurture Reflex that all women, at some level, are born with. Here is the system for injures in a nutshell:

1. Everyone is involved and active. Quickly someone take the organizational command of the group, delegating tasks for efficient recovery of the down-and-outer, no matter how down and out they happen to be. Calls of “Get some ice” “Bring that water here” “Tip that head back now and let’s get a good look at you” can be heard for several minutes following an accident.

2. All other activities that might be labeled “fun” and that could cause the injured person to be left out are ceased immediately and plans for the rest of the afternoon are put on hold indefinitely.

3. Everyone who needs to be called is called, and probably some who don’t even really need to know. Prayer requests are sent out like lightening and if the problem is deemed serious enough by either the person who knows the most about “these things” or otherwise by the one who has taken leadership of the situation, a hospital ride is figured out.

4. If the case is emergency worthy, one or two girls are elected to travel with the injured party to the hospital while the others busy themselves with making “Get Well Soon” cards and the like. The rest of the day is spent nursing the poor soul back to health.

In Man World, the Nurture Reflex shows itself a little differently...

1. If the injured party is hurt but can still see, breathe and stand normally, he’ll be fine.

2. If he’s hurt badly (i.e. cannot see, breathe or stand normally), one or two of his buddies will help him to wherever he needs to go (i.e. living room, bathroom, emergency room or snow bank).

3. If he’s being taken care of, everyone else should continue on with whatever they were doing before the accident happened. The game must go on as life will go on. He’ll understand.

4. When the injured party returns, looking a little roughed up with stitches or cast or sling, everyone pokes lighthearted fun at his expense, to hasten the healing process. (I’m not actually sure that this last one is a considered a positive reaction or that it is even welcomed at all - as I am not actually a guy, nor have I shown up with a sling or cast or stitches after being wounded - so, call it keen observation or poetic license, whichever is closer to the truth.)

Guys and gals... we’re different creatures, no doubt. We live our lives differently, and we respond to life differently, but there is one bond of sameness that I find undeniable in any situation. We are all made in the image of God... and God has a Nurture Reflex too. “Praise be to the LORD, for he has heard my cry for mercy. The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to him in song. The LORD is the strength of his people, a fortress of salvation for his anointed one” (Psalm 28:6-8).

God definitely has an advantage in the care-giving department of life, because he not only protects us from danger ahead of time, but he also gives us what we need to prevent problems and helps us pick ourselves back up when we fall – and not just physically – the physical element is pretty important - a broken tooth and split lip need to be attended to, but he has given the means to mend those particular problems to people. God looks after us in ways that we can’t look after each other – in spiritual matters, in the eternal issues. In some ways we can help to protect each other in these ways as well (most effectively by making sure that we are living our own lives in line with what God outlines through His Word), but ultimately God, and even more specifically Christ, is the one who we trust (or don’t) with our souls.

So here, I suppose, is the thought challenge: if you skin your knee, you can take care of yourself and if you break your arm, there are people who will come to your rescue... but if you are in a car accident tonight and die, who is going to have your back?

Death is not something you can kiss better.

The end of this note has taken a rather serious turn, but I suppose the same is true in life – when it comes time to wrap up, you make your decisions and face the music, if it is indeed music that you will be facing...

There is much, much more to say on this topic. If you are a Christian reading this note, please think about what this really means and talk to someone about it. If you are not a Christian reading this note, by now probably wishing that you hadn’t, please, think about what this really means and talk to someone about it. Come talk to me, go talk to a friend or talk to God, perhaps. Deal with the questions and doubts that you have before it’s too late to pose them. Don’t be afraid of an awkward conversation... sometimes they are the ones that can teach you the most.

Creatures of Detail

I am not a sports fan. Growing up as the eldest of three girls, there were rarely hockey games on the television – my Dad did give my sisters and me a strong base of traditionally male influenced experiences such as the annual father-daughter fishing trip that we took out to a very manly hunt-camp (though it was sometimes hard to tell after a weekend of girl-immersion… those weekends were filled with a wonderful and strange mixture of hairdos and animal guts). My Dad also made sure that his little girls had a general roadmap to a good tool box (making certain that we knew the difference between Robertson and Phillips screwdrivers), that we could drive our boat-like caravan without hitting too many trees (although I think this particular activity was partly to blame for his slowly graying beard), and taught us an appreciation for all things science fiction – but when it came to relaxing in front of the television as a whole family, my father was unjustly outnumbered every time. In fact, hockey as a pastime never crossed my mind until I moved to North Bay.

I am still not very interested in the sport, but I have made friends with a large group of people who are genuinely passionate about the game and so for the past few months I have been trying to learn some of the athletic jargon, or at least a decent grasp of the rules, et cetera. At present I find myself enduring yet another face-off in the company of my friends, all conversation staying far above my head; however, the time I am spending here with my notepad, huddled in the corner, is serving an interesting purpose. I am studying reaction.

Though not everyone is gifted with the skill of close observation in attitude or cue, we are all creatures of detail. When something is important to us, it consumes our attention. How can something so removed from our reality have such a dramatic effect on us? (One of my guy friends has just leaped up from his seat to holler a comment drenched in personal frustration at the referee. I doubt that he can hear him.) It amazes me that something so small can trigger such a reaction in a person. The puck didn’t go in… it’s not the end of the world. It’s not even the end of the game.

As I watch my friends get into mock-fights in representation of their favourite players who have just had a clash on the ice, I am suddenly wondering if I can learn from their strange connection to these far-off unknown allies.

You may not know this about me yet, but I am a budding actor-to-be this and next semester. I am in an acting class, theatre appreciation specifically, and I am learning to apply some of what I see in my life into my work between the curtains and under the lights. On stage, I am reacting to other people, other actors, but I am also acting as though I am living the life of my character. I am going to have to draw upon memories I don’t have and a history that doesn’t exist to make the connections to the audience authentic. If I can pull from memories in my own history that can be made applicable to the situation at hand, if I can find the moments of hockey-like reaction or fishing trip importance in my mind before I take the stage, then those are the details that I need to draw on.

The big picture is awesome and grand but it is only truly great if the details are in focus. That is where the beauty is found – that is where the reality lies – in the details.

Echoes

The staircases of our school are wonderful and unexpected places of solace for me. I find few things are peaceful as an empty stairwell and though there are few times when these transitory caverns remain quiet and deserted, I treasure the moments that I can find solitude there.

Even when I am alone, however, the stillness of the place does not stay quiet for long… the staircases of this school are my favourite places to be tranquil but they are also my favourite place to sing. The echo of the space and the way that the self-made music reverberates off the walls, the steps and the windows reminds me of a kind of heavenly choir, a host of angelic spirits, joining me in my music.

Echoes are so interesting. They are like a beautiful instant replay, like a voice underwater, like a haunting chill found in any melody…

In the theatre, this echo doesn’t exist. The padded seating and paneled walls make every effort to stop the echo, as though they are to be feared in the art of acting – and I suppose in speech they are a harm or nuisance, distracting or distorting the sounds of spoken word, but with the song, where often the storied are told as much through the melodies as they are through the lyrics, an echo is a wonderful tool of expression.

My favourite part of this personal escape is not the silence or the echo of my own voice – it’s catching others in the act as they bustle and saunter from Point A to Point B. I am always so encouraged by the reverberating whistle of a staff, visitor or fellow student… Apparently the art of semi-private expression extends beyond my blabbering self.

So, the staircase: a place of solitude where I can sort my thoughts when the rest of the world lapses into noise and chaos, a place where I am free to sing and enjoy the echoes and a place to be reminded that, at least on their own, the people of Nipissing and Canadore still have a spirit of personal expression.

Long live the melody…

Chicken

Stop. You have already decided what this note is about. I dare you to tell me otherwise. You have, and you know it. You are not different or unique in this conclusion jumping; everyone does it. We assume immediately that we are somehow in-the-know, that we have the answers and that we can instantly understand. Ha! Wrong. You are wrong. It’s all about context.

You thought that this was a note about chicken. Dear reader, I have misled you. Do you feel betrayed? Are you frustrated, confused, amused, bewildered? Are you mildly uncomfortable, sitting there in the awareness of your psychological exposure? I know you, because you are like me... I know how you think. I can read your actions... I can anticipate your thoughts. That's how I caught you. Yes, you have been caught in my trap.

This has been a lesson in assumption.

Be careful what conclusions you jump to. Be careful what you assume, what you expect, what you are looking for. Sometimes reality can take you by surprise.

A Racing Mind

Suddenly you can feel the adrenalin whooshing through your veins as your mind races and your work takes shape. The clock is counting down with an impossible acceleration, and you hear someone shouting out the remaining time, from some distant place.

Twenty minutes… Thirteen minutes… One minute.

Your brain is screaming, trying to output as much information as physically possible as your body is desperately fighting to keep up. One final thought, one final line, and…

Time.

Time is up. Time is out. Time is gone. At last.

There is no turning back and there’s no way to redo, repeat or revise.

You are finished.

If you’re looking for a thrill, forget roller-coasters or high speed racing… just try to write a fifty-minute essay on a story you’ve never read. It can really get your heart going! Oh, the thrilling, adventurous life of an English major. There’s nothing else quite like it.

The Twelve Paragraphs of Christmas

Twelve months, eleven new chords, ten classes, nine amazing friends, eight (thousand) bus rides, seven new recipes, six shades of blonde, five role changes, four seasons, three addresses, two homes and one year. The transformations that have taken place in my life have been vast and intricate, as well as generally entertaining. From New Year’s to New Year’s I have gone through a physical, emotional, spiritual and intellectual metamorphosis. I started in January as a nervous, uncertain high school girl; now as I emerge on the other side of December, I am shaking of the last of my cocoon to reveal the confident, God filled woman I have become. Let me show you how I got these wings.

January was the grand finale of a different life. Returning to high school without most of my friends and seniority privileges was exactly the motivation I needed to realize that I didn’t want to be there anymore. After my exams, I waved a cheery farewell to four and a half years of comfort zone, packed up my bags (and boxes and crates and backpacks) and moved on – half way down Muskoka Road 10, to MBC.

February and March were filled with a completely foreign and wonderful kind of education. I rejoined the world of wintery outdoor activity and sport – a world that I had neglected for far too long – by learning snowboarding, cross country skiing, ice climbing, dog sledding, winter camping, skating, snowshoeing, hiking and a wonderful variety of other ways to spend some quality time with the snow.

In April I repacked my life into a much smaller suitcase and flew with my team to Costa Rica. What an amazing time in my life! I learned so much in that place. I saw so much, did so much and was taught so much. From repelling a waterfall to painting a house, from hiking for miles and miles at a time, to sitting in stillness and silence for hours; these are the lessons that I took away from my trip. In what free time I could find, I picked up and developed many important skills including journaling, water conservation and euchre. When we flew home I brought back so much more than I went with, but not in material possessions. I left part of my heart in that country, but I was given so much love and insight and experience that I think it was a fair exchange.

May and June were spent blowing leaves, planting flowers and getting ready for the summer. I made more new friends, attempted (with no success) to learn yet another language, got very dirty on more than one occasion and frequently drove a truck. I learned a lot about me during this time and settled into a rhythm of life that was finally my own.

That rhythm was pretty short lived because as June ended, chaos began. It was a beautiful, exhilarating, noisy chaos: dozens of staff, hundreds of kids and thousands of opportunities to have a blast doing what I love to do. I supervised people but I witnessed lives. It’s the most amazing feeling, to participate in the life of another person and know that you have changed them in a positive way. Naturally there was drama and conflict, but the troubles that were introduced by the summertime sun are far outweighed by what has come of it; a million memories for the photo album of my mind.

August gave way to September and my life changed again. Frosh was certainly a shock to my system after six months of a completely different atmosphere, but I pushed through it and really got into life at University. Yes, I go to class (and learn much more than I thought I could), I cook my own meals (and have yet to poison myself), I keep my room “relatively clean” and I’ve even been to the bar (though it’s definitely not my style), but it’s my church that’s holding me together and keeping me strong while I’m at Nipissing. Friends and church and God... it’s a pretty good system... you should try it some time!

My life at school is so much better than I ever could have planned. I’m so at peace there, and it has quickly become a home to me... small-h-home, that is! So when it came time for a three week vacation to capitol-h-home, I was almost nervous to return. Life wasn’t at a standstill while I was at school... my family was still going, living and changing without me... but when I got here, I found out that this was still home too. Home: such a funny concept. Where you hang your hat, or where you keep your heart? Maybe it’s a balance of both.

So now, the year has come to a close. Only six hours remain until we welcome into our lives 2008 and all of the craziness that it is certain to bring. What will the next 12 months hold for me? Who will I be next New Year’s Eve? So much anticipation and excitement! If 2008 can even come close to the standards of 2007 in my life, next year is going to be an unbelievable ride. Twists, turns, loops and surprises of all kinds! I can hardly wait!

Six more hours.