OK, how do you spell Phoenix, anyway? I'm listening to my Twila Paris cd and about to embark on an intense hour of SeniorIntegrationProject work. Tasks for the day include re-organizing and much cutting and pasting. If you haven't already heard, this week has been the hardest of my academic career... well, it's at least in the top five hardest weeks ever. Helen has been reduced to a pile of ashes. I'm hoping something firey and wonderful will arise, mostly because my department took my hours and hours of work and discounted most of it. And made me look like a slacker and a fool. Hence the Twila Paris.
Though you may think she's a cheeseball and the mother of CCM music, I'd like y'all to reconsider my friend Twila. I'm not holding grudges against the department for doing their job and correcting me when I need it, but I have felt seriously marginalized and looked down upon. It's comforting to take those feelings to the cross and gain a little perspective. The confidence that T.P. shines with when she sings might come across as brash if you're hurting, but it really helps when you need said perspective.
Right now, she's singing these words --
The eyes are young, I won't deny it,
but oh! the dream of tender youth.
The seed is small, do not despise it.
Put on the robe and speak the truth.
'Cause the only thing that matters when the day has turned to night
Is a heart that knows the wonder of the mercy of the light.
I can see Jesus in you. I see his love on your face.
Go in his name and do all he commands you to do.
I see Jesus in you.
He brought you here to build the kingdom.
I see it burnin in your eyes.
The time is near. You must be ready.
Do not be tempted by the lies.
There is nothing that can hold you back, the wind has found the flame
You are called and you are chosen; you will never be the same.
I can see Jesus in you...
Call me culturally irrelevant if you wish. I will continue to listen to Twila sing songs about Jesus and to work like there's no tomorrow. Pray that I will have the grace (1) to learn from a hard and defeating situation and (2) to show people like Hope and Linnea and Evan a Jesus-like friend when they want to disrupt my study schedule and take me out for Indian food. It's nice to have your to-do list reduced to two things. Much simpler. :)
It's time. Time for a post. I don't know what the devil is wrong with my blog. I keep experimenting with the code that makes it look the way it does, like I can actually teach myself moveable type... HA! All I end up doing is making things go wrong. This means that nobody may actually read these words. In that case, I'll be totally frank.
Wait, I usually do that anyway.
A short time ago I wanted to post an example of how random everything has been since I got back, but I have since moved on from random to really really really ridiculously busy. The extended entry is my attempt at an email to my hall last night. I think it's a good indicator of THE RANDOM.
Howdy and welcome back, friends.
It's 9:38pm, I have 40 pages of reading and a SIP revision ahead of me tonight, and I'm looking for caffeine… good to be back, isn't it? On the bright side, it's sleeting outside! Huzzah! OK, now for the good stuff.
SCHEDULING: I want to go on a retreat and be a hall together somewhere that's not here. More news on this Sunday. Speaking of which, hall meeting Sunday at 9 PM. ALSO, I'm returning THE CONE… bum bum bum! Along with it, 5th North will get an invitation to the Mountain Opry for next Friday. Yahoo.
CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO JON KRUEGER'S HEART: Last semester, the hall looked awful. (I'm realizing this in retrospect.) This semester, hopefully we can keep our underwear off of the bathroom floor and perhaps even decorate? I think original artwork would be a grand addition to our walls.
COMMUNITY: I need to catch up with nearly ALL of you, which means you need to hang out with me. I'm free most lunches and almost all breakfasts. Also, can we meet for a prayer breakfast on a regular basis? I think God will show up pretty consistently if we meet on Saturday mornings… how about 9 AM?
Sorry this was so random.
Love you,
BOB
PS -- I missed Jasmine Cox. She's inspecting my clothes for holes right now. I nominate her for 1st Belz honorary hallmate award… a few girls win this each year in my little mind. Any D. and Susan are also in the running.
Hi, friends. One of you just emailed me and said that my comment buttons aren't working. Here, click one.
See? Il n'est pas marche.
Bad news: I was trying to figure out how to create those little off-to-the-side-links that take the reader to a different category of entries and I think I might have messed up the comment function in the process.
Good news: I think I now know how to make one of those links! It has something to do with templates and modules, right? Well, I suppose you can't tell me if the comment button doesn't work.
More from me later. Dinner is ready.
Well, happy new year.
The family all went to Tang's Chinese buffet for lunch today. If you haven't tried eating Chinese food in West Virginia, you might have to experience it to believe it. I'm not sure there are any words for that weird blend of the *almost* and the *not quite.*
You normally pass by a red-and-gilt enameled dragon or buddha image on the way in, gaudy and mysterious with orange halves and burnt incense sticks scattered at its feet. Tang's doesn't have this, strangely enough. Maybe they're Christians? Next in order of appearance comes the cash register, holding watch right next to the door. A kind Asian-seeming but probably not Chinese girl shows you a table. You sit, vaguely smiling and giving a drink order. While she's pouring the drinks, you wonder about whether she's Vietnamese or Korean.
Then comes the buffet, the bending of reality, and the suspension of reason. This is the part where you load your plate and arrange everything just so. You make a mental note of several dishes, saying "Hmm. Better remember this for my next plate." or "No, no, it's not quite right for my idiom just now. Maybe with the meats." But by the time you've eaten and convinced yourself that you need another plate and loaded said plate and returned to the table for round two... well, your appetite has gone right out the window.
But you eat it anyway.
And of course, you are initially served flatware. You ask for chopsticks and bravely snap them apart, under the watchful gaze of the waitstaff. They compliment you on how well you use them, and in the back of your mind you think they are sad because they wonder where you learned to use them. They know that the food is not quite authentic and might possibly be disappointing to someone who uses chopsticks like you do.
You wonder if you are reading too much into that neutral facial position, or if their sadness over the inauthenticity really is a reflection of their sadness at not being home and working in a Chinesse restaurant when they're really from Vietnam. You want to let them know that even if normal Americans don't know, YOU know that Vietnam is not the same as China, and YOU don't fault them for working here. You want them to know that you understand the Chinese calendar and that new year's is more than a month away.
But all you can do is smile when they bring water and not leave too much of a mess on the table. And you walk out past the lucky dragon and think, Nah. They probably don't feel that way at all. I need to be less of a romantic and more of a consumer. I'm just a victim of my predjudices, once again. Just like in the mall when the old lady with not-so-many teeth offers you a piece of stir-fry chicken on a toothpick. You remember that everybody working in those places is always of Asian descent, and where do those people live, anyway? Nobody on my street works at the Panda House or at Tang's Buffet or in the mall at Sakkio's...