a work in progress

signing off

2006-07-27T17:33:00.000-07:00

this marks the last entry of this 'work in progress' blog as well as my last night in the office. it only seems fitting that as one chapter in life closes, i end it the same way it began. [see here]

tomorrow is my last day of work and it's easy to forget this entry is just a stepping stone as all the other have been and no more or less significant. just another step towards something i don't yet know. in 16 days, 16 hrs, 14 min, and 44 sec my journey begins towards india. i should probably be scared or anxious, nervous or fearful, but i am surprisingly calm...exhausted from this last week of work, but still at peace. it is a peace knowing i am doing exactly what i need to do and going where i've been called to go.
that is enough.

i apologize for not sharing more of this preparation process with you. i have been like an iceberg, 10% above the surface and 90% below. you've witnessed the 10, my journal and i the 90. ah well. know that the other 90 has been good.

i'm surrounded now by a bare desk and heavy boxes of books. there are a few construction document sets waiting to go home with me for i couldn't throw them away yet...they were some of my first. i know it will be like those projects in the first years of studio, saved for a time until i'm ready to laugh at them from a more experienced view. it's time to make my way to the car and home. india is calling tonight and i'll hear my team's voices for the first time. i don't want to be late.

i look forward to the stories He will soon tell.

www.jillm.com
please visit often and enjoy always.
blessings to you.

www.jillm.com

2006-07-23T14:27:00.000-07:00

coming soon...

blogger

2006-07-18T06:23:00.000-07:00

report: indian gov blocks blogspot, typepad, geocities blogs

sad.

working on a remedy...

[ca] construction administration

2006-07-16T19:51:00.000-07:00

after five years of architecture school, i really didn't know how buildings were built. sure, i knew where to draw flashing in a window system, but i didn't know what it physically looked like. i knew the definition of a epdm roof, but i had never seen one put together. how to think, how to analyze, how to design, was part I of my education and existed within the walls of seaton hall. part II i have found in the 'real world,' in the profession, on the job site.

as i think back now, i realize it was out there with all the newly poured concrete, metal studs, and half completed hvac systems that i fell in love with the art of building. as far back as i can remember, my dad has been taking me out to the 'job site.' sometimes we'd come down with mom to bring him lunch and he'd take us around on a special tour. i got to ride in cranes, was once stuck in a recently installed elevator and sat on the toilet of a multi-billionaire before he inhabited his space. i fulfilled my child-given urge to push buttons when dad tested the fire alarms and eric and i collected enough cans on saturday walk through to buy mom an electric pencil sharpener for mother's day. [i know what you're thinking...lucky lady!]

i'll never forget the day when it clicked. i was twelve and had spent the morning with my dad at work. trying to keep me occupied he handed me some left over home magazines as he finished up the end of his paper work. i don't know what it was, but it hit at something deep inside. i found the plan i was sure i would build for myself someday. i pulled out the graph paper and set to work on my design, sliding walls, extending rooms, and adding windows. it was complete, or at least as much as it could be. i decided then, i would grown up to be an architect.
ah...it was a great moment.

twelve years later, i'm still in love with this profession, though now in a deeper way and for other reasons. the art of creating, of making, of forming things into being is in my core...and i also in my genes. my favorite parts of my work days now are not spent with trash paper on the drawing board or putting a drawing set together on the computer. no, they are the ones out there with mud all over my feet and my hard hat messing up my hair. there is something so energizing in standing out there on the field, watching the steel going up and the noises and smells of 'construction' infiltrating the air. sure, i can make it work on paper, but the real fun is solving the problems out there in the thick of it, putting the drawings aside for the moment learning how buildings are really built.

my dad and i visited the job site together this weekend. this time though, instead of one of his buildings, we went to mine. we walked through the open framed building and examined the way the building was taking form. we talked about hvac systems and how to make construction documents more effective. we tried to figure out how the ridiculously expensive fish aquarium was placed in the wrong location and what i should do to fix it. we discussed the relationship of the architect with the contractor and how to work better as a team. his advice to me is more valuable than the lectures i attended. [not to mention i pay more attention] they formulated not by theories or concepts, but tangible, grayed-hair understanding. i'm enjoying part II.

this one's for the girls

2006-07-09T19:52:00.000-07:00

college really is a truly unique time of life. away from home, you step into your own, decide for yourself what is important and what direction you'll head in life. you don't know enough to realize you really don't know anything at all. some people may believe college is the best time of your life. they tend to live in the past, wishing they could live in those days with little responsibility and unappreciated freedom. i hope to never become this but to instead enjoy each season for what it brings and the smile that comes to my face as i recall memories. for the time being though, college just happens to be the time of life that i enjoy remembering the most.

'coffee talk' began freshman year of college on the ninth floor of ford hall. oh the stories we tell, continue to laugh about and how young we really were. dinners in the 'derb' and silliness far into the morning. there were road trips to colorado and weekends away in kansas city. nikki and leah's crazy plans and tailgating for football games. the laxitive brownies, late night walmart trips, and the marshmallow fluff fights...late night 'swimming' and outreach dinners. some have served overseas together and others are now in seminary with one another. we look back now and are amazed at the way life brought us together.

enjoying another night in our old bridesmaid's dresses from each other's wedding for a fancy dinner...how often do you get to wear these things again, really?!

me, heather, marisa, kristin, amy, marie, leah [baby addison]

missing nikki, amanda, mindy, anna, & merah

friendships developed that first year that have carried us through the past six. we've all graduated and moved on to new adventures. twice a year we gather together, sharing what the last year has held and where the next year will take us. our conversation is rarely shallow, and we easily pick up where we left last. there is a bond between us that is uniquely ours and founded in something deeper. we are friends, yes, but we are also sister's in Christ's body and that creates in us a unity unlike any other.

if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from His love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. [philippians 2.1-2]

identity

2006-07-06T10:21:00.000-07:00

a chicago friend,

now in greece,

and worth your time.

identity

desire

2006-07-06T10:16:00.000-07:00

the clear, logical development of a work of architecture depends on rational and objective criteria. when i permit subjective and unconsidered ideas to intervene in the objective course of the design process, i acknowledge the significance of personal feelings in my work.

when architects talk about their buildings, what they say is often at odds with the statements of the buildings themselves. this probably connected with the fact that they tend to talk a good deal about the rational, thought-out aspects of their work and less about the secret passion that inspires it.

the design process is based on a constant interplay of feeling and reason. the feelings, preferences, longings, and desires that emerge demand to be given a form must be controlled by critical powers of reasoning, but it is our feelings that tell us whether abstract considerations really ring true. to a large degree, designing is based on understanding and establishing systems of order. yet i believe that the essential substance of the architecture we seek proceeds from feeling and insight. precious moments of intuition result from patient work. with the sudden emergence of an inner image, a new line in a drawing, the whole design changes and is newly formulated within a fraction of a second. it is as if a powerful drug were suddenly taking effect. everything i knew before about the thing i am creating is flooded by a bright new light. i experience joy and passion, and something deep inside me seems to affirm: 'i want to build this house!'

[peter zumthor. thinking architecture. page 21]

chicago no.1, no.2, no.3

2006-06-29T21:04:00.000-07:00

there is no one else i've shared a room with longer than ally. first, it was 315 petticoat lane, boyd hall, then a semester in prague, only to finish out our academic career with a spacious one bedroom on hunting. fall of 2000, we entered k-state together, she in interior architecture and i in architecture. our room was the best in the hall and if you ever came to visit, she would entertain you with quite a thorough tour. she stayed up with me at night as i finished up projects for she felt guilty sleeping as i worked. funny how she got over that one by fifth year. i am forever thankful for her motherly support in prague, and ally, what would i do without your fashion expertise? seriously?! but our friendship extends far beyond being college roommates and all the way back to the fourth grade in our brownie troop and into high school. oh, the stories we can tell.

it's been two months now since i was visiting her in chicago, so this post comes a bit late. apologies. in the past four years, i have made three trips to chicago and all have been with ally. each trip to chicago was so unique and entirely different, that they must all be shared.

in our second year of college, we ventured up to the windy city together. it was the biggest trip we had both taken on our own and my first plane ride. first time in the big city, ally prefered the airport shuttle to the 'el' and opted for a hotel off of the magnificent mile for safety reasons. i appreciated her cautious ways. far too often i fail to think things thoroughly and she keeps me balanced. we stayed in well lit areas and i hailed my first taxi after the comedy club night venture. oh, did we ever think we were big city travelers.

chicago trip no. two occurred rather accidentally and i accept all blame for this one. we were about to begin our semester in prague and we could not be more excited. we were on route to manchester, england to visit some of my family before we met up with the rest of our classmates in london. boarding the plane in wichita, our eyes teared up after goodbyes but we quickly turned our minds to the adventure that lay ahead of us and a six hour layover in chicago before life took us overseas. somewhere between boarding our plane in wichita, gate c45 in chicago, and the 7 hours that passed, i lost my passport. that's right. i didn't misplace it or leave it at home. i lost it. [read more here] thankfully, we were in chicago where one of the midwest passport agencies is located. we trudged to the last minute hotel and i made about 16 long distance phone calls to figure out what to do. we awoke the next morning at 4 to catch the shuttle at 5, to get to the airport by 6, to catch el and arrive downtown by 7, to be at the front of the line by 8 for an emergency passport. 24 hours and $286 later, the plane for manchester left again, though this time we were on it. needless to say, this was my least favorite of the three trips but ally couldn't have been a better sport.

ah. this last trip was different. after graduation, the girl who used to be afraid of public transportation and hostels, moved up to chicago on her own. she enjoys reading on her hour commute, buys organic food, and has successfully killed a cockroach by herself. she's a become a big city girl and i'm proud of her in that motherly-life-time-friend kind of way to which i am entitled. this trip, i saw the city from her perspective, instead of the tourist or crazy-passport-losing window i had watched through before. hers is a much better view.

i loved hearing the stories from her day to day living, the crazy couple down the hall and the guys who try to hit on her on the bus. we ate at her favorite restaurants, walked through lincoln park on a lazy saturday morning, and peopled watched downtown. one of my favorite moments from the trip was just before bed one night. living in a studio apartment, she has big windows along the backside which look into an interior courtyard of the building...as well as all the other apartments.

as we laid there in bed, the lights off and the noises from the city still lulling in the background, we watched the building settle down for the night. she told me of the man on the sixth floor who often plays his guitar at night. he lives by himself and has red hair. though she cannot hear him, sometimes he plays by the window like he's playing for her. then there's the lady a bit further down who one evening sewed a purse. there is a black cat which always sits in the window and then another with plants far over grown. she mentioned the people who've moved and those who've made new homes. we watched the lights go off, one by one, wondering what stories their lives were telling and what they were reading from ours.

this journey.

2006-06-28T10:14:00.000-07:00

i will rise and i will stand,
getting off of my knees and my hands.
i will walk as You lead.
and look beyond what i can see.

i will speak from my heart,
and not let pride tear the truth apart.
i won't fear another man,
'cause he is dust just like i am.

*because in this journey when the night is done
*i will set my face towards the sun.
*i will not look back, no.
*no, i will not look back.

i will learn as i go,
and test the things that i think i know.
i will love without return,
light my fears on fire to watch them burn.

i will hope in unseen things,
and i will dance when my heart sees.
i'll believe just like a child.
let my fondest dreams run wild.*

i will rest for a short while,
and then i'll go another mile.
i will be what i believe,
and i will give as i receive.

and i will choose without regret,
cause rolling dice is a coward's bet.
i will seek for what is real,
and not let pain teach me how to feel.*

[matthew perryman jones]

stick shifts and safety belts

2006-06-26T15:10:00.000-07:00

'as you step on the gas, simultaneously let up on the clutch. go slowly on both and listen to the sound the car makes. the engine will tell you when you need to switch gears.'

i was teaching my littlest sister how to drive a standard. the lesson occurred partly because she wanted to know, partly because i thought she needed to know, but mostly because i'm tired of being the only female in the house who can handle such a vehicle and hate driving it to work with heels.

she looked at me with all the confidence of one who only knows in her mind, camouflaging the real fear of never having tried it.

'it sounds easy enough, it looks easy enough,' i'm sure she thought. her nose crinkled up as she made her first attempt with the blue ranger out of the asphalt stall. the little pickup jumped forward like a grasshopper in a field, jerking us along with it.

she turned to me, eyes wide in shock, 'what did i do?!'

'it's not what you did, it's more what you didn't do.' i explained again how the clutch worked and how it must be let out slowly.

attempt no 2: jumping truck
attempt no 3: jumping truck

attempt no 4 got us around the parking lot and into second gear. she liked second gear better, less jerking. it was the starting and stopping that was the problem. she began asking questions, ones she wouldn't have known to ask before and ones i couldn’t have answered until i watched her. we spent the next hour moving from row to row till her little body relaxed and the frustration on her face melted into an accomplished smile.

back in the neighborhood we went for loops around the block. i remember taking the same routes when she first learned to ride without her training wheels...we couldn't go around enough then.
'just one more time?' she asked this time.
i smiled, ‘of course.’

as she got out of the truck, she turned back to me with her smart-aleck grin. she did a little hop in the air and tapped her feet together.
she had done it.
it was a proud, older sister kind of moment.

47 days, 22 hours, and 32 minutes i begin my trip for india. i can't help but think i'm sitting in the driver's seat as my little sister did this weekend. i've read my books, talked to people who have been on similar trips and had tea with native indians. i stand as one on the other side of understanding a culture, on the other side of mistakes i'll make and on the other side of preconceptions. i don't know what questions to ask or what answers i need.

i sit in this seat, my hand on the ignition, one foot on the clutch and the other on the break. the passenger's seat is empty for i don't know yet who will guide me when i get there. people tell me i'm brave for going on my own. i don't feel like it, i guess i just don't know what i'll face to have to be brave about. i sit in my car on the other side of the world, on the other side of seeing, on the other side of understanding, knowing despite my preparation, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

p.s. yesterday, the day after writing this post i was rear ended in the little, blue pick-up waiting to turn by a car traveling 40mph. the poor little, fiber-glass accord... it really stood no chance against my steel bumper. ah...for once, it felt good to be a truck driving girl.

p.p.s. the post was originally named after cake's song, though only because i had 'stick shifts' in the title. after the accident...the 'safety belts's seemed even more appropiate.

world on fire

2006-06-23T10:26:00.000-07:00

watch this video

http://www.worldonfire.ca/

legacy

2006-06-19T05:49:00.000-07:00

i like walking around cemeteries. i know...kind of weird. i guess if you find comfort, not fear in death, you may understand. at the risk of sounding sarcastic and insensitive, there are few places i can go to feel more alive and more thankful for each breath i take.

my walks over the years often take me to these solemn gardens. in prague, i would lose myself in the sea of tombstones seeming never to end. the krakow concentration camp bared no physical markers of the millions who died within it's walls, but i could not avoid the thought of the fate they suffered. i stood proud as an american when i visited the arlington cemetery in d.c. such honor displayed and i am humbled by the sacrifice. and then there is my favorite, sunset cemetery in manhattan, kansas, just down the street from my apartment. as the heat of the day was disippating and the evening breeze pushing it's way through, i would often find myself in that little cemetery, unwinding from a day in studio and preparing myself for another night of work.

i've come to realize i allow my mind to dwell in abstract thoughts far too often. however, in such an atmosphere, even those concrete in their thinking cannot help but indulge in reflections. as i read the names on the stones, i wonder what their story tells. who were the characters? what were their dreams? the dates reveal their beginning and end, but it is the '-' in between that i find important. what memories does it hold? what difference did they make in it? what legacy did they leave?

i'll never leave a legacy until i understand the significance of my '-'
as i wander, my contemplations always end on this thought.

at the end of the day, when the curtain is pulled and the lights are flipped, what will be left? did i invest in something that will out last my breaths or will all that i lived for die with me? do i have something to offer? did i work to live or live to work? will i leave having made a difference? or in years from now will my existence have mattered?

i usually spend my walk coming up with more questions and few answers. i make goals and dreams in hopes of using this life i've been given for something. i'm in that twenty-something age group; i'm expected to set such high aspirations for myself. but soon, the world tells me, i must put such ambitions away and trade in my idealistic thinking for reality.
maybe.
perhaps i'm too naive to understand the real world.
or perhaps i understand it all to well.

if i am to follow the trend, the husband, mortgage, 2.5 children and chocolate lab are around the corner. such contemplative thoughts will soon be overtaken by responsibility and dreams by parental duty. the years will pass by like days and before i realize it, i will find myself again walking through cemeteries, though now for other reasons. the reflections i once pushed away in the busyness will now be at the front of my mind as i wonder when my time will come. i'll remember the the goals and dreams i set so long ago and wonder if i met them. did i make a difference? did i use this life i've been given for something more? what did i live for? what did i do with my '-'?

there are more thoughts on this bouncing through my mind.
but this post has already become far too serious.
they can wait.
just know that in the end, only love wins.

[legacy. nichole nordeman]

i don't mind if you've got something nice to say about me
and i enjoy an accolade like the rest
you could take my picture and hang it in a gallery
of all who's who and so-n-so's that used to be the best
at such'n'such ... it wouldn't matter much

i won't lie, it feels alright to see your name in lights
we all need an 'atta boy' or 'atta girl'
but in the end i'd like to hang my hat on more besides
the temporary trappings of this world

*i want to leave a legacy
*how will they remember me?
*did i choose to love? did i point to You enough
*to make a mark on things?
*i want to leave an offering
*a child of mercy and grace who blessed Your name unapologetically
*and leave that kind of legacy

i don't have to look too far or too long awhile
to make a lengthly list of all that i enjoy
it's an accumulating trinket and a treasure pile
where moth and rust, thieves and such will soon enough destroy

*

not well traveled, not well read, not well-to-do or well bred
just want to hear instead, "well done" good and faithful one...

*

bubba icky

2006-06-14T19:44:00.000-07:00

i was only a year and a half when he joined our family. my dad tried to get me to say 'brother eric' but it came out as 'bubba icky.' i've called him that ever since. i no longer like the correct pronunciation. when we were younger, he probably should have annoyed me as a typical little brother should. perhaps he didn't because he's not a typical little brother or because he's always been more of a friend than a brother. don't get me wrong, he still found ways to tie me up in my sleep, sabotage my tea parties, and throw me in the pool fully dressed. but without such things, what would a little brother be?

growing up so close in age, our friends and activities, interests and hobbies often overlapped. i played legos with him, he played school with me. our two story clubhouse was a water balloon fort, cruise ship, camper, whale spotter, and the location for the toad olympics [the best event was when the one where we put the toads on the roof to see if they would survive the 15 foot drop. toads are resilient!] i was his magician's assistant and bike riding partner. we spent our summers ruining our clothes with tar on the streets and bubble fights in the kitchen from the dinner dishes. the memories together are too numerous to recount.

i was nine and he was seven when great-grandma johnson passed away. grandma johnson would have called herself a collector though to everyone else she looked like a packrat. i remember walking down a narrow passage in her house between piles and piles of cookbooks, many her own. then there were her dolls in the living room, the large one in the corner always seemed to be looking at me. i never returned to her bedroom after one time i peeked in and saw her wigs lined up on their styrofoam heads on the dresser. i had always wondered why her hair looked blue.

when grandma died, mom put a giant grocery bag full of jewelry in front of me for me to select some pieces to remember her by. i wished i would have realized then that all fashions cycle...what i wouldn't give for that jewelry now! but i didn't and instead picked a silly starfish with pearls on it and and watch that didn't work. eric peered over my shoulder curiously; he carefully scanned his eyes over the shinny pieces. he picked a few up, inspected them only to place them back into the pile and look for another.

'what are you doing?' i said as i pushed him away. 'this is for girls.'
'i want to pick out a piece.' he said.
he selected a small, black pendant with gold trim. in the center was a black rose surrounded by small quartz stones, though many gone.
'someday, when i get married, i'm going to give this to my wife.'
'it's ugly,' i told him, 'she'll never like it. no girl wants black jewelry.'
he looked at it thoughtfully. 'someday i'll give it to her and she'll love it because she loves me.'
i rolled my eyes. yuck.

on saturday, my brother became a husband. after six and a half years of dating, he made megan his bride. the wedding was beautiful and the reception a wonderful celebration of their lives together. people where there from all chapters of their lives, family from both sides, and friends who have been essential in the building of their foundation together.

before the festivities were in full swing, i pulled out of the bottom of my jewelry box a little black pendant. one spring when we were cleaning the basement, i ran across the little treasure. assuming my brother had forgot his promise, i stored the piece myself until it could be given to a new owner. i told the story again to them both and placed it in eric's hand. he smiled at megan as she pinned it on her shirt, 'i love it' she exclaimed. he told me long ago she would.

congratulations to you both.
as iron sharpens iron,
may you be refined and strengthened by each other.
may God make your lives together beautiful.

for more wedding photos, please visit sosebee photography

front porch living

2006-06-02T17:07:00.000-07:00

[click photo for more]

written may 29, 2006
i sit in the airport once again, this time unaware of the people sitting besides me or walking in front of me. sometimes you forget how much a person means to you until you say goodbye. my mind is still at the front of the airport where i just left holly. it was the kind of goodbye where you don't say much for your watery eyes say it all. i let the tears fall unashamed. some people, we don't feel deserving of, and we find ourselves blessed to call them 'friend.' she's one of those. my dad says holly's my 'kindred spirit' so for her, i count my blessings twice.

the history of our friendship is short but deep. though we grew up less than a mile apart, it wasn't until three years ago that college life brought us together. we've walked countless miles, cried precious tears, laughed until our stomachs hurt, and prayed through painful times. i've tried to follow in her footsteps, learning to love the way she loves, but i fall far from her example. she's the kind of person who meets you where you are at with no preconceptions, and loves you as you are. you can't help but be drawn into her presence. when you talk, she listens. when you're not talking, she's still listening. she has this uncanny way of hearing beyond the words you're speaking and breaking into your heart. at first, many people do not understand why they feel such a peace when they are around her and find comfort in her words. if you're with her for very long, you soon realize she has learned the tenderness of the Father.

the fall of our last year of school, i helped plan her engagement [one of the best ever and i wouldn't have expected anything less from you, phil] we spent the year preparing for life's next step into marriage and the joys/worries that go along with it. she was one of the many things i had let go of last summer. i stood besides her on her wedding day and handed her over to phil knowing he was the one created to hold her heart. they will celebrate their one year anniversary soon, though not in a fancy hotel or an exotic location, but in the deep south of louisiana. when most couples are too concerned with health insurance or interest rates, having babies or buying cars, holly and phil are rebuilding a city and loving people in desperate need of attention. they're not just donating money to such a cause, but themselves. i like that about them. you see, they don't want to get 'comfortable,' or complacent. someday, perhaps they'll settled down with a mortgage and kids. even then, their spontaneous, adventurous, giving spirit will remain alive.

this is all to say, she's one of my favorites. phil has already left to begin training and holly has the task of finishing her first year of teaching before she joins him. so i came to fill his place...or at least as much as i could. we spent the weekend enjoying each other's conversation, company, and companionship. no tourist-y things to do, places to visit, or schedules to tire ourselves over.

we let the sun [or the dog, thank you traveler] wake us up. we enjoyed breakfast and silence on the porch each morning followed by long walks around town. on friday she took me to school with her and i witnessed the crazy life as a teacher. what powerful opportunity to reach lives, but how utterly exhausting. her students asked me again and again to repeat words for them because they loved hearing me say 'bag' [they say it like the 'bag' in bagel] we visited the little shops downtown and i ate cheese curds for the first time. we read books and took naps. we ate late dinners with red wine and fell asleep watching movies. we challenged each other and prayed together.

i decided someday, in addition to a porch swing, i must have a hammock under a big oak. i also decided as much as i liked walking with a dog, i don't like taking care of one.

it was the best kind of vacation.
time to reflect, refresh; to reconnect and redirect.
yes, it was nice.

and one day, my friend, we'll meet again on your porch. you'll drink your coffee and i'll drink my tea. you'll tell me what phil did to make you laugh and the latest adventure you two are planning. i'll share stories from india and of the mishaps that always seem to find me. we'll laugh about 'bottom noodles' and 'mom socks' even though no one else understands. we'll smile knowing such friendship is unique and seems to grown stronger with time. we'll sit together at our Father's feet and give thanks for the journey. He will continue to be faithful and all will be well.

every minute

2006-05-30T10:12:00.000-07:00

i am long on staying.
i am slow to leave, especially when it comes to you my friend.
you have taught me to slow down, and to prop up my feet.
it's the fine art of being who i am.

and i can't figure out why you want me around.
i'm not the smartest person i have ever met.
but somehow that doesn't matter,
no it really never mattered to you at all.

*and at the risk of wearing out my welcome.
*at the risk of self-discovery,
*i'll take every moment,
*and every minute that you give me.

'cause if you sit at home you're a loser,
couldn't you find anything better to do?
well, no, i couldn't think of one thing
i would rather waste my time on than sitting here with you.*

and i wish all the people i love the most could gather in one place,
and know each other and love each other well.
and i wish we could all go camping, and lay beneath the stars,
and have nothing to do and stories to tell.

we'd sit around the campfire and we'd make each other laugh,
remembering when...
and you're the first one i'm inviting.
always know that you're invited, my friend.*

[every minute. sara groves]

thank you, holly!

people watching

2006-05-26T05:30:00.000-07:00

i have a couple hours, so here i sit, enjoying one of my favorite pastimes, people watching. the airport is a great place to practice such a hobby. even if for only a moment, thousands of paths collide at one, single terminal. they walk by in a hurry, rushed to get to the gate, to get to the plane, to get to the city, to get to wherever it is they are supposed to be. all these next steps in their journey are unknown to me as they walk by my seat against the window. but i enjoy watching them pass through my view for this moment our paths cross.

the business men are easy to spot for they walk with the confidence and arrogance of a seasoned traveler. they wear their suits and uncomfortably starched white shirts. often, they appear to be talking to themselves as they solve the world's economic problems over their bluetooth wireless thingies. at first i thought they were talking to themselves, until i saw the little piece over their ear. someday, i'll probably pass someone on the street actually talking to themselves and i'll think they're on the phone.

the school groups are also easily recognized and thankfully, scarce today. though they have traveled to another city, they still exist within their high school bubble, unaware of the commotion they automatically bring with them and more concerned with who said what to whom. oh, surely i was never that way.

the newlyweds are my favorites. thursdays aren't the best days to spot them off to their exotic locations, saturday and sunday would be prime watching times. they are so funny to me as they cannot even stand a moment of separation, sauntering down the busy corridor with arms entwined. while carrying all of their luggage, moving to their next destination, and without running into anyone else, somehow they manage to maintain an intense gaze at each other. it's really quite a phenomenal feat. their left hand sparkles and their eyes shine. their joy is contagious and i cannot help but smile. ah...someday.

many airline employees pass by me with ridiculously efficient baggage in tow. i wonder what their traveler lifestyle would like and if i would like it. perhaps for a week, but even i am tired of hearing how to fasten my seatbelt and what to do with my seat cushion in the event of an emergency. do they realize their suits make them look more like sailors at sea than pilots in the air?

i look onto the parents with small children sympathetically. i admire their little faces and the excitement of their squeels as they step onto the moving walkways. though my hats off to their parents and the way they've embraced the challenges of air travel with such little ones, i count my blessings that is not me and nor will it be for a long time.

then there are the older generation. [i will gave no age frame to this demographic for 'older' is a completely relative term] often, they can be spotted whizzing by on the terminal taxi with a look of either ecstatic glee or extreme fear. the walking ones take their time for they have learned the lesson most of us are too busy to hear, there is no need to hurry. however, i do wonder what fills their retired days.

i hope the man who just ran by me makes his flight and those soldiers all come back to their families.

now to finish my overpriced/undersized tea, enjoy the soft light by this window, and pick up the book i've been too busy to finish. i'll watch the faces pass by whose stories are a mystery to me. though they are unknown to me, i find comfort in the thought that i know a God who knows each of them by name. He knows their destinations and what puts the worry on their faces. He created a unique desire within them to love and a passion just waiting to be awakened. at their core, He gave them a hunger for something more in this life and He is pursuing them even now because He knows only in Him will it be satisfied; only in Him will we find life to the full. i pray that wherever they're going and whatever they're doing, they find Him along the journey.

directionally challenged

2006-05-22T20:44:00.000-07:00

we all have our weaknesses and i am no exception. perhaps you are numerically challenged [math] or visually challenged [color blind]. some are horizontally challenged [short] or financially challenged [broke]. i would like to state for the record i am directionally challenged. what i mean by this is that unless i have a map in front of me, in a city i've lived in for longer than 5 years, or the sun is out, i cannot tell south from north, east from west. in my mind, it seems west should always be to my left and east to my right. this thinking has gotten me in trouble several times.

i've heard many issues or behavior problems of adults can be traced back to moments in their childhood. i don't know if i believe all of that. however, i do think my challenge with directions can be traced all the way back to the second grade...

i was in mrs. pettay's class and we had switched rooms for social studies. instead of mrs. willard teaching us as usual, her student teacher was in charge. normally, a student teacher wouldn't have bothered me, except for this one. mr. palmer. it was the 'mr.' part that was the problem. i was going through this phase of life where i was afraid of any older man but my dad. i don't really know why. the phase didn't last long, but it was definitely an issue that afternoon.

i was sitting in the front row and ahead of me he was holding the book explaining the cardinal directions. try as i might, i couldn't understand. how does south always stay the same? whenever i look at a map, north is always up so shouldn't the direction i am facing always be called north? the globe is a big circle so when does west become east or east become west? argh.

then the urge came. you know the kind...the bathroom urge.

as a second grader, i could hardly sit still or wait until bathroom break. i crossed my legs and my little feet kicked back in forth in impatience. i couldn't ask him to excuse me, he was a tall, scary man. he might get mad at me for interrupting or frustrated because i broke the class' attention. besides, the consequences of not understanding come test time seemed just as frightening. it took everything i had to focus on comprehending the difficult lesson before me and holding all of the liquid inside of me.

then i lost it.

i lost my focus on the north arrow as well as the need to go to the batheroom all over my seat and into the fresh puddle underneath of me.

[insert moment of panic]

i was no longer listening to anything going on in the room but instead, imagining the laughter that was about erupt around the room when they realized what i had just done. i know mr. palmer mentioned other things about compasses and maps, birds flying south and longitude; but i was done. my mind had already checked out from the direction lesson.

as he closed the book, his eyes stopped at the puddle beneath my seat. the red in my face rose quickly and intensely. my second grade reputation pended on how he would respond.

in a calm voice, i remember him saying, 'oh no. it looks like scott's water bottle spilled. we'll have to have him clean it up when we switch back.'

i was sitting in scott's seat and his water bottle was still full on the desk. mr. palmer's reaction saved my face. i could utter no words but only nod my head in agreement. poor scott.

i walked back to mrs. pettay's class, holding papers in front of me and behind me. thankfully, it was time to go home and i need not hide much longer. i didn't tell my friends on the bus or my mom when i got home. in fact, i never shared this story until high school when i had recovered from the embarrassment. today, it's one of my favorites.

i have now realized i have scarred myself from every truly grasping this concept of directions and have come to grips with the fact that i may never fully understand 'true north.' for long ago when you were learning this basic life skill, i was peeing my pants. i'm okay with this.

if you give me directions in the future, i would ask that you give me a map so that it can be rotated according to my own understanding. i navigated us for two days around rome with a map, managing to get us lost only once [though it must be stated this occured at 10 o'clock at night and lasted for 4 hours] i'm a visual person and with the aid of a map, i really am okay. however, if this is not possible please use lefts, rights, landmarks instead of norths and wests. thank you for your patience with my disability.

thank you

2006-05-14T19:19:00.000-07:00

sometimes, it's hard for me to imagine what she was like when she was young. my mother, she was beautiful. her dark eyes must have drove the boys wild and her shinny hair was adored. she set off on her own at 18, confident in what she did know and naive of what she didn't.

her first date with my dad was a result of a bet. her boss was sure he was married. she, though they'd never spoken, knew he wasn't. she was right, the $20 was hers. my dad didn't think it fair she made money off of him and told her it was only fitting he took her out. he didn't let her pay then and she never went on another first date.

she was my age when i entered the world. this is hard for me to imagine for i don't feel old enough myself to have children. but she was, or maybe she just had to be. being the oldest, i can take credit for making her a mother. i watch my friends now as they begin their families. they 'oh' and 'aw' at every noise and movement and smile. i smile sometimes too wondering if that's how she looked at me.

next came eric, followed by amy, and ending with megan. her life became full of us. her hours revolved around our needs, our demands, our schedules. she put us completely ahead of herself. she never complained, that was our job. she'd clean a room and we'd follow behind messing it up. she's watched more puppet and magic shows than i care to count and ravished praise on every one. she patiently taught us to read and i still remember the moment she made 'carrying' in addition make sense.

one of my favorite memories were our 'secret nights' together on the weekends. i would pretend to go to bed with the others and only after i knew they were asleep, i would sneak out of my room and down the stairs where she was waiting for me. she taught me to sew on those nights, just me and her. we'd make christmas presents or dresses, barbie clothes for amy's dolls or cushions for the seats. i learned how to make her famous cookies which have no written recipe. i'm still learning, but in time and with her help, i will carry on her tradition.

a mother doesn't feel for us, but she feels with us. when we smile, she smiles. when we hurt, she hurts. i remember the hour she left me in the dorm room all by myself. i don't know for who it was more difficult. after five years of goodbyes, we both still cried. and this year, when the hurt seemed to go so deep and the tears would not stop, she didn't try to say something wise and motherly. she just held me and cried with me. now, she's about to send me off to strange place to people i don't know. but rather than be scared for my safety or encouraging of me to stay closer, she's begun reading books and sharing in my excitement. she's always told me she'll enjoy whatever moments she can have with me for she knows i'm meant to 'spread my wings somewhere else.' it is i who should be savoring these moments.

i will never understand the sacrifices she made until i am making them myself for most of them i never knew. i really think there is no other job more selfless than that of a mother, or at least my mother. it is a job she was never trained to do, her services never fairly compensated for, and one she will never retire from.

and now, by the end of this blog, the thankful tears cannot be stopped nor the depth of my gratitude accurately expressed. all i can find to say is thank you. for every moment, memory, tear and sacrifice, thank you.

13.1

2006-05-04T19:50:00.000-07:00

runners are crazy people. they move at an insanely rate of speed and over long stretches of ground only to end where they first began. for months they train through sun, wind and rain. they push their bodies incredibly hard only to spend the days after recovering. they aren't chasing after a ball, or trying tackle somebody else. they know they won't win. their purpose is to beat themselves, their own time.

this really makes no sense to me.

but last week, i became one of them.
or at least i became a wanna-be
[which might actually make less sense than actually being one]

surrounded by thousands of other people, i ran. some ran with flags, some with friends. some ran for time, others just to finish. it didn't matter if you were an architect, teacher or janitor. on race day, you were a runner. and to me, that makes a lot of sense.

19.......the day in january of my last caffeinated drink
7.........the number of 10mi. training runs i've been on this year
298.....the times i thought i was going to hate running a half marathon
30.......the day in april the race occurred
2:50....how many hours it took us to drive to oklahoma city
4:30....the time i had to get up in the morning
300.....the amount of calories in my breakfast cliff bar
2.........the number of times i tied my shoelaces
168.....the number of moments of silence before the race began
168.....the number of people i was running in remembrance for
5456...the number of people who were also running to remember
50.......the states from which they came
2:35....the time in minutes it took me to actually start the race
48.......the temperature when the race began
6:35....the time the sun started rising and i realized what
..........an incredible moment it was to be alive
4.........how many times after that i listened to u2's beautiful day
10.......the amount of miles in which my legs seemed
...........to work independently from the rest of my body
0.........the number of times i stopped to walk
13.1....the number of miles i ran. not 13...13.1. don't forget the .1
2:13....the time in hours it took me to finish
99.9%.the chance i'll do it again

[on monday, i couldn't wait to have a starbucks mocha...it gave me a headache. on tuesday, i tried a hazelnut coffee...even bigger headache followed. what have i done to myself?!]

beyond the walls of this world

2006-05-02T20:09:00.000-07:00

it's a rainy night at java nation...i could not be enjoying it more.
a chai tea in my left hand and a black pen in my right. i watch the drops fall outside the windows and the cars splash as they hurry by.
purple, black and yellow umbrellas float across the framed glazing.
i like the yellow one the best.

there is peace. life is comfortable. it is easy.
i am fulfilled. i am at 'home.'

'home' has become a relative term. it is not the big front porch i dream of having someday or found in the city in which i grew up. it's not where my family gathers or even in the memories i have made. home is where my heart is. though currently, it is camping out here on earth, it resides beyond the walls of this world.

in just over three months from now,
i will leave for a new place, a new 'home.'
i go not because i am running from pain or searching for meaning.
i journey not to find significance or because of a calling.
i am not attempting to make my goods out weigh my bads,
build my resume or find happiness in service.

i leave because there is a burning in my heart that compels me forward. there is a zeal within me to show His compassion, to spread His truth, to make His name famous, to share His love. this life is temporary, it exists for only a moment. my body is but a shell and my existence but a breath. His name is eternal. i will give that which i cannot keep for that which i cannot lose.

"the greatest use of life is to spend it for something that will outlast it."
william james [harvard psychologist]

some call this missions, others call it service.
perhaps you term it purpose or maybe even calling.
whatever you name it, it's not a location, an action, or a reason.
it's a lifestyle.

i call it love.
love is why i go.
a love for all people, a love for all ways of life.
a love found in beauty and brokenness.
a love which goes beyond the highest star
and reaches to the deepest hell.
a love that knows no end, no boundaries, no limits.
this love celebrates diversity and uniqueness of cultures.
it doesn't wait until eternity, or until one is good enough.
though, such accepted love provides eternal blessings in the future,
it is offered regardless of how one responds and without conditions.
it has been here since the beginning. it is embodied in this moment.
it offers life to the full today.
His love is why i go.

india...

2006-04-27T21:02:00.000-07:00

the news came today.
if you need me after august, i will be found here...

mussoorie, india

more words to come.

i'm too excited right now to try to find them.

[www.emiusa.org]

motorcycle diaries

2006-04-19T19:20:00.000-07:00

today was one of those kind of days.
you know what i'm taking about.
everything seems to happen at once and your head is spinning.
you get in your car at the end of the day to escape.
the windows are down, the radio is up, but it's not quite enough.
the car doesn't provide enough freedom.
though it protects, it also restrains.
perhaps a convertible...that might get me a little closer, i find my body is still limited in its experience of the open road.
sky diving? definitely. but with only one jump under my belt, and dependency on a pilot, i'll set that one aside for now.
sailing lessons this summer offer no help to me today.
maybe a plane but only if the destination is exotic.
running...too slow. vespa...not enough power.
i think the only the only mode of transportation that will satisfy this urge on a day like today is a motorcycle.
yes. that's it. today is a motorcycle-riding kind of day.

third year in school, we designed a motorcycle museum in la. it wasn't a real project, but we had a real site. [a real site which we had a real site trip to visit] i did my research, read my books. i asked a friend to take me on a spin around manhattan...it was my first time on the bike. i decided i needed him to take me around again...of course, only for the sake of the project.

[sketch from third year project and a picture i took from the back of a bike on the greek island of paros]

as you move to the side, the entire bike moves with you. it engages the full body and you become one with the molded metal. that's probably not the safest. my grandma always called them sui-cycles.
she’s probably right.
but who wants to be safe today?
motorcycle drivers are 16 times more likely to die in a crash than an automobile occupant.
but how can you drive in a car on a motorcycle day?
45% of fatally injured motorcycle drivers were not wearing helmets at the time of the crash and nearly one out of five had an invalid license.
so maybe motorcycle drivers aren't the smartest people in the world either.
i'd at least wear a helmet.

i think more than the vehicles themselves, i like the kind of people that drive motorcycles. they look tough, but you know it's just a front. they are softies underneath who ride their bikes for toys and kids with disabilities. they bond with anyone else who drives these hogs, regardless of their own tough, black, leather shell. on thursdays, they all drive to old town and park along the streets. as i'm trying to finish up my day, i hear them rumbling outside the window and squealing around the corner. i wonder if i walked down to the bar with them if they'd catch on i wasn't really part of the club. i don't think i'd fool them.

i'm envious of their freedom. they hit the road for days at a time. they stop along the way, enjoy the company of their cohorts at random truck stops. they listen each other's stories, tell their own...then on the road again. i doubt they make hotel reservations. they probably don't even have a final destination. whether they go east or west is dependent on if they want to drive into the sunset or out at the sunrise. they make their decision to go north or south on if the want to wear their leather chaps or not. they just follow the road and let it lead the way. they don't need much, all the necessities under their seat. they leave little to the imagination; what you see is what you get. they don't have to return phone calls and avoid captivity underneath a ceiling grid. there are no fancy black windows to hide behind, or a radio to drown out reality.
just the wind and the road.
during the day, the sun.
during the night, the stars.

so by the end of this post i’ve realized…
i really don't think i want to drive a motorcycle at all…
i just want to live like i do.

forever changed

2006-04-16T20:04:00.000-07:00

i'll never forget that first day of studio.
'what is architecture? what is space? why have you entered this profession?'

the question seemed easy enough...but i was at a loss. every answer i could come up with didn't seem enough. i knew there was more than i understood. i was at the beginning of something. everything i thought about architecture was thrown out the window that day. whatever i knew it entailed or believed it to be needed to be tested, processed, redefined... i had to choose for myself what i believed architecture to be and role i would play in it.

five and a half years later, i look back on that day and smile. i really had no idea what i was getting into. i had no clue where my path would take me or the people to which it would lead. if you would have told me how difficult the journey would be or how many times i would want to give up, i'd have quit that day. i look back now, thankful i didn't know and thankful i didn't quit. i see the world through the eyes of a designer, as one responsible for the built environment and the affect space has on life.
i'll never be the same; i'll never shake this passion.
it will evolve. it will grow.
i think now i have more questions and less answers.
i will add to them new truths as new understandings are made.
but i am changed.

i'll never forget the day i picked up my cross for the first time.
'who is God? what is faith? why have you chosen to follow Me?'

i believed. i knew all the stories. i could give you all the sunday school answers. but something changed that february. i died that day to myself, i stood at the foot of the cross broken and overwhelmed by the fact that i could never be enough. He is bigger than i could ever fathom and deeper that i could begin to imagine. no matter how hard i try, no matter how good i am, i could not meet His standard.to Him, there is no such thing as religion, just truth. He is perfect and i am not. everything i thought God to be was thrown out the window that day. whatever i knew He entailed or believed life was like needed to be tested, processed, redefined... i had to choose for myself what i believed and i would do with that belief.

i look back now eleven years later and smile. i really had no idea what i was getting into. i had no clue where my path would take me or the people to which it would lead. if you would have told me how difficult the journey would be or how many times i would want to give up, i may never have chosen Him that day. i look back now, thankful i didn't know and thankful i made the choice. i see the world through the eyes of my Father, as one responsible for bringing Him glory and offering hope to a searching world.
i'll never be the same; i'll never shake this passion.
it will evolve. it will grown.
i think now i have more questions and less answers.
i will add to them new truths as new understandings are made.
but i am forever changed.
He has forever changed me.

blessings to you on this easter day.

five top five must haves...

2006-04-08T08:15:00.000-07:00

okay studio 109. although i never fill these things out, i will for you to celebrate your entrance back into the bloggging world. i usually brush surveys off, but when you single me out like that, i feel guilty ignoring your expected reply...and haven't had time to put together any more coherent thoughts.

IN THE KITCHEN:
1. blue bunny lite 85 vanilla crème yogurt
[accept no substitutes]
2. fresh garlic
3. cottage cheese, baby carrots, craisins
[listed together because i eat them together]
4. peach iced tea
5. stale peeps
[ie. marshmallow peeps opened last week to eat this week]

IN THE CLOSET:
1. patagonia fleece
2. james madison baseball hat courtesy of miss bethany
3. dark jeans with super glue from final studio project still on the thigh
4. heels
5. that blue hanes t-shirt i have no idea where it came from but is the first thing i put on out of the dryer

IN MY PURSE:
1. cannon powershot S400
2. red leather journal no. 14
3. red letter book
4. exact change
5. pilot g-2 07

AT THE OFFICE:
1. itunes...massDETRITUS playlist [more to follow]
2. red pencil
3. weekly schedule
4. phone log notebook
5. afternoon apple [golden delicious or gala]

AT HOME:
1. indirect lighting
2. pile of unread books and magazines next to my bed
3. evening with the chiminaya and my dad
4. picture slide show screen saver
5. running shoes and the stars

in me.

2006-04-04T19:31:00.000-07:00

word

2006-04-01T14:40:00.000-08:00

i, who live by words, am
.......wordless when
i try my words in prayer. all
.......language turns
to silence. prayer will take my words
.......and then
reveal their emptiness. the stifled voice
.......learns
to hold its peace, to listen with the
.......heart
to silence that is joy, is adoration.
the self is shattered, all words torn
.......apart
in this strange pattern time of
.......contemplation
that, in time, breaks time, breaks
.......words, breaks me,
and then, in silence leaves me
.......healed and mended.
i leave returned to language, for i see
.......words are ended,
i, who live by words, am
.......wordless when
i turn me to the Word to pray.
.......amen.

[madeleine l'engle: lines scribbled on an envelope while riding the 104 bus]
[enjoy the silence. robbins]

is earl there?

2006-03-26T19:05:00.000-08:00

after my class tonight, i made the inevitable trip to walmart. usually, i try to hold out as long as i can, waiting for my mom to give in first and ask me if she can pick up anything for me [i know. it's rough] but tonight i gave in. i don't have to pay for the roof over my head or the electricity to run my itunes. i can pick up a few groceries...every once in awhile.

now for the good part of the story.

i'm walking out of a version 92 walmart [please don't ask me how i know this]. i'm on going down the hall with the soda machines on my left and the windows on the right. i reach the door; i hear a ring.
the pay phone at the end of the line is ringing. not joking.
i stop in my steps and look around to see if anyone else is hearing what i'm hearing. then suddenly, my mind is flooded with a dozen scenes from movies depicting this surreal experience. if i answer it, will i be transported back to my matrix life? perhaps i am in the scene from a horror movie and the voice on the other line will tell me he's watching me. maybe i've been selected to warn the world of a coming explosion or revealed the true killer of JFK. best yet, could it be the voice of God providing me specific direction of what i am to do next in life and if adam had a belly button. and if i don't answer, the girl on the other line being held hostage will die, world peace may not be found and i'll never know if there really were weapons of mass destruction.

so what do i do? i pick it up.

pause. "hello?" i ask.

"is earl there?" she says.

longer pause. "uh. excuse me?" i stutter.

"is earl there?" she asks again.

"i'm sorry. you must have the wrong number." darn it.

no heavenly voices, no murder mystery, not even a scary man. i walked out the adjacent door, laughing out loud and wishing someone could have shared that moment with me. i couldn't have made it up and she really couldn't have asked for a man by a better name.

check this out.
though i regret i cannot attend, i think it will be definitely worth it.
plus...they have a pretty cool website. do it.
click here for more info.

i repent

2006-03-25T15:41:00.000-08:00

i repent.
i repent of my pursuit of america's dream
i repent.
i repent of living like i deserve anything
of my house, my fence, my kids, my wife
in our suburb where we're safe and white
i am wrong and of these things i repent

i repent.
i repent of parading my liberty
i repent.
i repent of paying for what i get for free
and for the way i believe that i am living right
by trading sins for others that are easier to hide
i am wrong and of these things i repent.

i repent judging by a law that even i can't keep
of wearing righteousness like a disguise
to see through the planks in my own eyes.

i repent.
i repent of trading truth for false unity
i repent.
i repent of confusing peace and idolatry
by caring more of what they think
than what i know of what we need
by domesticating you until you look just like me
i am wrong and of these things i repent.

[i repent. derek webb.]

it's me

2006-03-24T04:40:00.000-08:00

so. it is only 6:30 am here and i've already been working for an hour and a half. i had one of my restless, sleepless kind of nights. i hate those. i'd much rather start tackling the things consuming my mind than lay in bed and worry about them.

perhaps i'm worried about my first project i'm sending out for permit next week. or maybe it's lunch today with a friend that i know i need to say something to but i have absolutely no clue how to say it. it could even be that i spent 2 hours last night beginning investment accounts and i have no idea where i'm going or what i'm doing in six months. and now, as i'm contemplating all of this, trying to figure out what my problem is, i remember...it's me. i am my biggest obstacle. i am the one that makes things complicated. i am an imposter. i am what keeps me from peace, from running free. He's offered it, but i refused.

"no thank you," i say, "i'm find on my own."

i'd rather stumble in the dark then reach out for the Hand i cannot see, and listen to the Voice whose Source i cannot see. i'm scared to rely on Someone that makes no sense to me. i'd rather trip and fall on my own accord than open myself and be vulnerable and out of control.

yes. i see it now. it's me.

p.s. written while listening to free. shawn mcdonald...really loud
p.p.s. i'm going on month two without any caffeine and i'm seriously wondering if i'll stay awake today

finding. er. losing my center

2006-03-16T17:18:00.000-08:00

i went to yoga. i speak in past tense because currently, it is something i have only done once. though i have all intention of continuing, i cannot yet say, i take yoga. that would be an exaggeration of the truth.
i don't exaggerate to make a story better.
*wink.*
but i did take a yoga class.

i have few, natural, physical talents. no matter how hard i try, i cannot make my ears wiggle or pop joints out of place. i do not have a body built for a runner or the grace of a ballerina. i'm tough naturally, but i am a soccer player because i practiced. if i do something well, it's usually because i've had to work hard to get there. on trips home from school, i often found myself overwhelmed as family shared the latest race times..."oh and eric had a 4:15 mile...amy pr'd [personal record] last week in the 3200...megan is finishing first for the eighth graders..."
*alas.*
i tried to compete with these sornson runners...
"you should see the section i drew in studio! it was a tough process to get there, but then, flow kicked in and it came to me in record time..."
*sigh.*
somehow it's just not the same.

being flexible, however, is different. flexibility has been something that has come easily for me. remember those presidential fitness tests we had to take in elementary school? i held the record for the longest v-sit reach, fingertips 14 inches beyond my toes. [this fact is worth noting because it is the only record i have held...ever...and no, i was never awarded anything for my recordly fast section drawing]

so when my co-worker asked me if i'd like to join her...
"yoga? sure. i'll give it a try."

if you think yoga is for people who can't compete at sports...
well, you might be right. the other people in the classes didn't necessarily have "athlete" type bodies. but if you think yoga is an easy work out and can be done without losing a drop of sweat...
you would most definitely be wrong.

half the time, i was about to crack up laughing from the noises people were making and how silly they looked. the rest of the time, i was complimenting myself on my natural, yoga ability. it was interesting to me the way the instructor lead the class, repeating over and over again the most basic of instructions as her "pupils" listened so intently.
am i missing something?

"inhale, exhale. inhale. exhale."
hey lady, i mastered that one about 24 years ago.
i'm past the stage of needing help breathing.
if i had difficulties with this, we've got other problems.

and then...
"find your center."
ha. excuse me, but i don't have any problem finding my center...
it's that large area between my bottom half and top half.
in fact, i'd rather not find it and instead lose it.

then there is...
"focus your energy."
once again, check that one off as done and down pat.
it's called overcommitted.
i've found more ways than i think are humanly managable to funnel my energy and if possible, i'd like to keep a little for myself.

lastely...
"meditation. clear your mind."
nap time. it's a quickie, but i used to survive days in studio on these.
i'm already a pro.

maybe in a few weeks, i'll write of the yoga class i'm teaching for i fear i am already steps ahead of the people who attend every week, attempting to master such an art.
*sarcasism*
but right now, it's just a class i took.

[note to self: no matter how easy she makes that leaning-over-one look, don't try it. you now hurt in places you ever thought possible]
*ouch.*

wounded healer

2006-03-11T10:02:00.000-08:00

though i'm not an impulsive person, i am also not one to sit around and only talk about something. i'm a doer. i like action. if i say i am going to do something, i usually do. [though sometimes i think only through stubbornness] my INTJ temperament predicts me as such.
so what did i do yesterday? i got a tattoo.

when i was burned in europe, i wanted all of the scars to go away except for the drip line on my right foot. for some reason, even on the day of the event, i thought this looked pretty cool. the only time i ever see it now is after i get out of a hot shower and the redness returns. this permanent marking was born out of the oil outline. i've been drawing it on my foot for weeks now to get it just right..i knew exactly what i wanted. the tattoo artist even left my own pen markings on to be sure the ink was placed correctly. i must say, it was quite an experience. here is, this little, white, suburbia, girl in a tattoo parlor... i must have been a sight with in my pointy toed shoes, business attire, and a small string of dots on my foot.

if you've read this blog very long or know me at all, you might deduct two chapters of my life which have been important...being burned with oil while in prague [read here, here and here] and recovering from an emotional wound [read more here, here, and here] these events, separate and isolated, make little sense to me. but when they are paired together, each lends itself to the other for a deeper understanding; they become a compliment to the other. the physical burn i suffered almost two years ago has given me a tangible picture of what my wounded heart has undergone and the healing that has taken place. though the damaged skin has become faded scars, they vividly paint a beautiful picture for me of His faithfulness and restoration in my life. the wounds in my heart have become faded memories, but still remain a part of my story. they have opened me up to Truths i never knew existed and purposes i could not imagined without such suffering.

we all have wounds. for some, these wounds were inflicted by the harsh words of a mother or the neglectfulness of a father. perhaps it was a divorce or abandonment, disease or abuse. we don't have to look far to find them. however, we're afraid to reveal them because we don't want to feel the pain or be hurt again. we become good at hiding them under our pride. we try to deal with them on our own, not realizing healing can only come when we acknowledge them, accept them and make them visible to others. when we do this, our wounds illuminate and stabilize our own lives as well as become a source of healing to others. they remind us of our brokenness, of our need for grace. we do not become arrogant victims; we become wounded healers, educated towards empathy.
[refer relevant magazine's podcast 03.03 and manning's abba's child p28-31]

so, yeah. i got a tattoo.

the rain

2006-03-09T06:02:00.000-08:00

the rain came today. they've been telling me it would be here all week and i cannot remember the last time i saw it. today the rain showed up. i love the smell it brings with it, fresh and clean, full of life. spring is on its way, i can feel it in the air. it is a time where all nature seems to rejoice in its birth to a renewed life, promising the warmth of color and sunshine. it only seems appropiate that as my wipers rhythmically accompaning me into the office, i saw my first budding tree of the season. it was a pear tree, they are always the first to arrive on the spring scene. it usually puts forth its snowy blossoms at a date when snow can hardly be assumed to be a thing entirely of the past and i always fear for them a late freeze. before long, we'll see the daffodiles and azaleas, roses and lillies, tulips and daisies. [excuse the floral design class influence in me] but i'll wait for the color, i'll wait for the warmth. today, i will enjoy caedmon's call new tunes playing through my ears and the rain falling outside my window.
i will enjoy this moment; the world is waking up with me.

randoms

2006-03-02T22:01:00.000-08:00

it's friday. another beautiful day.
and i'm sitting in front a computer.
argh.

so. over the last few months, i've been collecting random emails.
i'm not a forwarder...
but some things are just too good to keep to myself.
enjoy.

and you thought it was just a phrase...
flatter than a pancake

how do you define beauty? oh the power of photoshop...
fluid effect
[-portfolio-agree-before/after-hold over before to see unaltered photo]
*okay...something's wrong with this site. hopefully it will be fixed soon.*

pretty cool even if you don't recognize their names...
the snow show

a fun little ditty...
museum plaza
[-video-select video viewing program]

mac users are crazy
transparent screens

musicians as well...
kid beyond [sound warning]

a pretty good spoof...
cheney's got a gun
[to the tune of aerosmith's janie's got a gun]

what is on my mind lately...
the traveling team
heart of God

because i'm an architect and this makes me laugh...
dilbert

and if that didn't work, try this...
shock

if you're up for it...
oklahoma city memorial marathon

we're into the business of lofts in wichita. recently
we had some advertising published [pdf] with yours truly as a model.
you know what kind of model you are when you're paid in food...
i'm not quitting my day job.

20th annual academy awards shorts
saturday, march 4 - 10:00am
the murdock theatre, 20th century center
536 n. broadway
this saturday, the wichita public library will present pixar technical director patrick james at the murdock theatre to discuss and show his oscar -nominated animated short "one man band". james has worked on such films as "toy story 2," "monsters, inc.," "finding nemo," "the incredibles" and the upcoming "cars". after "one man band" all the oscar nominated shorts will be shown in the murdock theatre until 4 p.m.

any takers...

nickel creek
tuesday, march 21 – 7:30 pm
orpheum theater
200 n. broadway
sample my favorite...takes a moment
[green and gray] lyrically rich

shawn mcdonald
monday, march 27 - 7:30 pm
olivet baptist church
3440 w. 13th st. north
sample my other favorites...too hard to pick one.
[here am i] cannot-sing-loud-enough
[take my hand] windows-down kind of song

daddy's girl

2006-02-26T22:12:00.000-08:00

i’d like to say i’m an equal mix of both of my parents. but if i’m really honest with myself, i would have to admit i fit more into the mold of my father. i possess his same work ethic and listening skills…as well as his stubbornness and smiling eyes. i’m proud to take his good as well as his bad. i have found no man i respect more. of no one am i more proud.

working in the overlapping profession of construction, i’ve been amazed at the respect i am granted with just the mention of his name. “oh, you’re paul’s daughter? you come from good blood. he’s a good man.” “yes.” i tell them. “he is.” but they don't really know how good. he began with his company in college and now 36 years later has taken only 2 sick days. oh how, he loves what he does. he can’t remember a single day that has passed that he hasn’t wondered where the time went. for awhile he considered going into seminary, but he realized he was created for this. he touches more lives on the jobsite then he ever would from a pulpit.

for the first time in years, he’s had to leave us for a fast-track project in eastern kansas. he leaves early monday morning at 4 am to make it in time to meet the guys finishing night shift and before the next one begins. his work week holds 80+ hours and leaves him completely exhausted. my mom, sister, and i rule the house until he returns the following saturday night when we let him think he’s still in charge. it’s easy to take people you are around all the time for granted and perhaps him leaving has reminded me of the significance he has in my life.

my father is one of those kind of guys that doesn’t speak often but when he does, you listen. his correction is never critical or demeaning, but always presented in such a way that always makes you want to do better the next time. though never my coach, i cannot remember a soccer game in thirteen years of playing he missed. he would know just what to say afterwards and how to correct my mistakes…or when to just let it go. he can fix anything. and i really mean anything. i think he’s spoiled me for there are few things i've broken which have needed replacing. i tell him now if i don’t marry someone who can take over this fix-it man role in my life, i’ll have to live close. he loves us through service; i don’t think he'd mind.

his strong, loud voice could frequently be heard throughout the house as he showered in the morning. when we were little, after my mom had finished our story, we would beg him to sing to us. my father knows his hymns and usually we were ushered into sleep with “the dance” or “it only takes a spark.” i cannot help but smile when i hear those songs now. sunday mornings were always my favorite. the kitchen was mom’s domain every day of the week except for brunch after church. omelets were his specialty, though sometimes i talked him into pancakes. for as long as i can remember, he has been my valentine, taking time to set out special chocolates and presents for us in the morning. this year, it meant a little more.

so here i sit, tears in my eyes, overwhelmed by how blessed i am for this man, and trying to find the words to convey the emotion inside of me. few people have such a clear picture of the love our heavenly Father has for us. many have been wounded by our imperfect fathers representing an all perfect God. but no man, no matter how wonderful, could convey the depth of His love. the God that holds the universe in the palm of His hands, sets the stars in their place, and empowers the waves, asks us to call Him, Abba, Daddy [literal greek translation of luke 11:2]. He knows what stirs my heart and the number of hairs on my head. He loves me just as i am and not as i should be. He loves me the same in my filth and disgrace as He does in my beauty and grace. in loving me, He made me lovable. His love for me is so deep that He would rather die than live without me…than without you.

we try to do things on our own. we think we have it all together. then it falls apart. then it falls apart again. reluctantly, we walk back to Him. we know we have done wrong and we should have listened earlier. but life just seemed like it would be so much better on our own. while we were still a long way off, He saw us. we didn’t realize it, but He had been waiting the whole time. not even to the end of the driveway He came running. He held our face in His hands and embraced us with a hug and kissed our forehead. there was no disappointment in His face or scolding in His words, just love. complete and unconditional love.

good morning

2006-02-23T20:01:00.000-08:00

"good morning, sunshine." my mom has greeted me this way each morning for as long as i can remember. although these thoughts i am compiling as the sky is dark, the stars are out, and the day is finishing, morning is in my heart. let me attempt to explain.

it feels as if i'm waking up. i roll over in my bed and the time on the clock comes into focus. it's early, but i have no reason to get up. i turn back around and drift in and out of consciousness. the sun begins to peer through my curtains and taps me on my shoulder. this time, i don't dismiss it, i let it wake me. i rub the sleep from my eyes and watch the color change outside my window, orange to pink to blue. it's beautiful. the sun is overcoming the darkness and radiating its glory. i watch in awe as if i'm seeing it for the first time.

half of my covers are on the floor. my curls are swirling all over my head. i lay in the sunshine a bit longer and stretch...i love that feeling. there is no hurry; no urgency to get moving. perhaps i'll pick up my book or go to the kitchen to make chocolate chip pancakes. an early run or maybe a shower? better yet, i will just roll over and enjoy this moment a little longer. the entire day lies before me. it is full of unknowns and what if's. no need to worry about the holes or the questions. i have nothing hidden or unattended. whatever comes, He is in control.
i am surrendered. i am rested. i am at peace.

this whole idea is funny to me because i didn't know i was asleep...
i didn't realize i was living in a reality i had created for myself. it wasn't wrong. it could have happened, but now it won't. i am thankful it was just a dream. i am thankful, though a part of my story, it is behind me now. and although my circumstances haven't changed in the past few months
and everything around me looks the same,
i am more alive than ever. it feels good.

i wrote a post a while back about being held in the dark. i would have given anything at that time to see the light of day.
but you can't hurry the Son. He won't be forced.
sometimes you have to tread through the darkness
until you can dance in His light.
good morning? good morning indeed.

"this is the day that He has made.
i will rejoice and be glad in it.
[psalm 118:4]

those who sow in tears
will reap with songs of joy.
[psalm 126:5]

fyi

2006-02-17T05:40:00.000-08:00

A L O N E. Puri, originally uploaded by Claude Renault.

my mind isn't on work this morning, or in this country for that matter...

bad dancing party

2006-02-11T12:40:00.000-08:00

first, all credit must be given to holly, the queen of the bad dance.

i think we all have the capability to dance. it is our fear of approval or lack of self-confidence that keeps us to the edge of the dance floor. if given a choice, i prefer to watch. i have little inherent rhythm and am jealous of the natural moves of steph, nikki, and ashley. it is only after i have relaxed enough or am in the company of others who will not allow me to sit, will i enter the floor in a public place. almost always is a good time had once i give into the musical urges.

i do, however, not think twice about participating in a bad dancing party, nicknamed by the little sister as "bdp." more than likely, bdps occur at the most random of times, with someone you can be yourself with, and rarely in a public place. maybe you've never heard of such a thing or didn't know it had a name or thought you were alone in this activity.

in our dorm room, holly and i began this practice. we were seniors who had purposely moved into a floor with all freshman. perhaps their age had rubbed off on us or perhaps we'll never act ours. whether it was stress induced, a climax to our silliness, or simply because we're avoiding things we should be doing, we let it all go with our bad dancing moves. one single, monumental show was given as the girls, [bethany, holly and i] united for a VA/NC trip last summer. as we prepared a grilled feast, we let it all go with kelly clarkson's since you've been gone. [note to holls & bethy: i was extremely tempted to include the video, but restrained. thank me later!]

bdps have been frequent with my littlest sister this year. we haven't lived together for five years so we're bonding again. a pdp playlist on my iTunes player has been evolving so when the spontaneous moment appears, we are prepared. we have even invented a few special moves of our own "the crow," the one where we go in a circle, and "tatonka." i am sure this is only the beginning. over christmas break, we entered amy into our group and eric laughed at us from the crack in the door. next time we'll make him join us.

i write this not to embarrass myself, for little could, but rather to share the silliness, joy, and freedom which can be found in a bdp. whether you've had a tough week, a deadline looms over your head, or you just need a break, take a moment to dance...and dance bad. [included is our favorite bad dance party song to get you started]

for some of you, this is a difficult first step to take, so to you, i offer you an alternative. take the other half of your life in your arms and slow dance in the living room. i promise you, she doesn't want two dozen roses or a box of ghirardelli chocolates. you don't need to spend $100 on dinner or buy her fancy jewelry. she just wants to be held in your undivided attention.
[also included is my favorite slow-dance-in-the-living-room song]

speak little, do much

2006-02-05T11:05:00.000-08:00

in the last month, i :

+ took a salsa/meringue dance lesson
+ ate dinnter at home with my family only four times
+ paid off entire loan to the government
+ began leading a group of high school girls
[i’ve forgotten what it was like to be in high school]
+ enrolled in a class because i want to take it
[not because i have to take it]
+ discovered i actually enjoy this required reading
+ found weight i thought i had lost this summer
+ went on two 10 mile runs
[training for half marathon to lose it again]
+ received a raise
+ took on the black slopes at copper mountain
+ sent in application for eMi india
+ bought/received/started 7 books on india
+ began a hair color transition out of a "blond"
+ developed a frusteration for the city planning process
+ enjoyed reflection without production

it’s been a busy month.
"speak little, do much." [benjamin franklin]

add to the beauty. sara groves

2006-01-30T20:16:00.000-08:00

i'm not a big fan of the sound of this song. but oh, the lyrics.
i want to add to the beauty.

we come with beautiful secrets
we come with purposes written on our hearts, written on our souls
we come to every new morning
with possibilities only we can hold, that only we can hold

redemption comes in strange place, small spaces
calling out the best of who we are
and i want to add to the beauty, to tell a better story
i want to shine with the Light
that's burning up inside

it comes in small inspirations
it brings redemption to life and work
to our lives and our work
it comes in loving community
it comes in helping a soul find it's worth

this is grace, an invitation to be beautiful
--------------------------------------

PostSecret

PostSecret is a blog and community art project started by Frank Warren. The site invites people to anonymously contribute a secret in artistic form. Each secret is a 4-by-6 postcard work of art containing a written secret. Each card is wholly unique, written on photographs, wedding invitations, or hand-made collages. The cards communicate a full range of human emotion on a small, visually engaging canvas. It's like catching a brief, forbidden glimpse through a window into the souls of all those around us.
PostSecret works with the pieces. It takes hidden, jumbled, often painful snapshots of individual lives and reassembles them into something that is utterly delicate and human. PostSecret is art at its essence. It is made up of the universals, the stuff that makes us people. It transcends race, religion, culture, age, borders, even language, giving us the stories of those we'll never know. PostSecret can be racy, painful and ugly at times. It is, after all, an expression of our deep, raw passions and emotions. But it's also breathtaking visual poetry. [relevant magazine]

until then...

2006-01-08T05:48:00.000-08:00

it was my second day in the hospital. i had already eaten my roll and black coffee for breakfast and it wasn't yet 7 o'clock. though i had done nothing but lay in my bed for the past 36 hours, i was craving a shower. i wanted to feel clean. slight problem, i didn't know where it was and i didn't know how to ask. i must have missed this lesson in my czech language class. i played charades with my nurse, trying to mimic washing my hair, but to no avail. she either didn't understand or forgot. i lay there defeated.

i had two roommates, both elderly czech women. i have a feeling they weren't friends before their stay at the uva praha, but they had quickly bonded. they began their morning getting each other ready for their day in bed. they combed the other's hair and helped one another dress despite their eye and hand bandages. one of the women had made extra efforts to try to speak to me and i attempted back to her. we each spoke our native tongue, hoping the other would understand. but at the end, all we could do is smile.

half-way through the morning, she came to my bed. she pointed to my shampoo and motioned to me to follow her. ah success. she had understood my acting efforts. after spending my entire day laying horizontally, vertical movement was extremely painful, so i very slowly moved behind her. she lead me down the hall to a bathroom with a shower stall. “dekuji, dekuji" [thank you, thank you] i told her. she smiled. then she motioning me to removed my clothes. being a modest person, i hesitated. i looked back at her, realizing i couldn't argue, i couldn't protest. i had to comply. i took off my shirt and carefully slid my shorts around my white bandages.

she had gone ahead and i eased onto the chair she had set up in the shower, resting my feet on the other just outside the shower's door. what happened next, forever changed my life. rather than leave me to shower on my own, in a moment of complete humility, she removed her nightgown and stepped into the shower with me. she sensitively warmed the water until it was just right and began to bathe me. she lathered my hair. she rinsed my body. if for only a brief time, God had slipped her arthritic hands on as gloves, her wrinkled face on as a mask, and served me in the most delicate way that He could. i have never known love so innocent and unconditional. this woman knew nothing of me. she knew not my past nor my future, my goals nor dreams. she didn't know what had happened to me nor where i would go next. i was a burn patient in a foreign hospital, my family half way across the globe and but a hand full of friends to keep me company. there is no time in my life i should have felt more scared, more abandoned, more alone. but i was never frightened. i never felt forsaken. in our vulnerability and in our nakedness, i felt i was in my Father's hands. i saw peace. i knew love.

with this, i leave you. a break from the blogging world. a new command to be still. though i know not for how long. i will be back, on this you have my word. until then, may you hunger for Truth and find it in Him.

waves of honesty

2006-01-05T20:00:00.000-08:00

i cannot even begin to count the number of times i driven up to manhattan. my car knows the road well. but last weekend, my little silver saturn took me for a different ride. for the first time, i went up highway 177. oh my goodness. what was i thinking ever going another way? how did i miss this? with shawn mcdonald's here am i playing as loud as my speakers would allow, i massaged the rolling roads with my wearing wheels. glorious. sometime in life you must all drive through the flinthills of kansas, though i ask that you not do it while i am driving along this highway. one, because other cars slighlty spoil the experience. and two, because i have a feeling i might be kind of dangerous steering my car with one hand at 70mph as i roll my windows down to snap pictures with the other.

after i started the ragamuffin gospel by brennan manning last week, it did not left my side until it was finished. tomorrow, i will begin his 2 day conference. i have a feeling much is to come. he writes such pure, simple truths. i cannot get these basic statements out of my head:

"honesty simply asks if we are open, willing, and able to acknowledge the truth. honesty brings an end to pretense through a candid acknowledgment of our fragile humanity...honesty before God requires the most fundamental risk that God is good, that God does love us unconditionally. it is in taking this risk that we rediscover our dignity. to bring the truth of ourselves, just as we are, to God, just as God is, is the most dignified thing we can do in this life." [138]

so as i'm driving through these rolling hills, i cannot help but think of how "honest" they seem to me. they are not made to carry glorious mountains or mighty trees. they hide nothing. all is exposed. the sky is big, the sunsets are bigger. they are unprotected; they are uncovered. they risk everything. in their vulnerability, they seem completely full of peace. full of beauty.
they are dignified.

[click photo for more driving shots]

dr. tooth

2006-01-03T19:43:00.000-08:00

my parent's coverage ended when i turned 23. i guess the insurance company assumed i should be done with school, grown up, and have a policy of my own. [seriously. who finishes school by 23?] three months i waited until my insurance kicked in. an additional three months, were added due to laziness and dread. but today, i gave into my responsible urges. after a year and a half of delay, i went to the dentist.

i must admit, i have a pretty high pain tolerance. i would also say it takes a lot to bother me. but i must state for the record, i hate going to the dentist. i called this morning to schedule an appointment for february...
"can you make it in at 11? [ie. 45 min from now] we had another appointment cancel."
....uh....
no time to prepare myself mentally.
how do i get the wheat thins out from between my teeth?
no extra i'm-going-to-the-dentist brushing.
i should have flossed at least once since my last appointment.

oh, the smell as i first step into the office makes me want to a'bout face and walk back out to my car. i cringe at the drill i hear in the background as i flip through october's edition of people. perhaps they should make the rooms sound proof so as not to disturb small children. the hygienist calls my name, i follow her down the sterile corridor to the dreaded chair. she tries to make small talk with me, but it doesn't distract my mind from the discomfort i am about to experience. she places the sunglasses on my eyes. why must i wear the sunglasses? i am 24 years old. i don't need the glasses anymore! i look up at the ceiling decorated with inspirational posters..."a day is not wasted if a memory is made"..."excellence is not a skill. it is an attitude." i'm going to need a lot more than pictures of puppies and beaches to distract my mind from my mouth.

here's the thing i never get. i'm wearing a bib lying flat on my back, a bright light shining in my face, my mouth widely contorted to an unnatural position, and hygienist asks me "so, are you enjoying your job?" i try to be polite and answer the most coherently way that i can, but of course she can't understand me. she takes her hands and sharp shinny objects out of my mouth so i can answer my questions. i just want to tell her, "let's just keep this short and sweet. get in, get out, so i can go." it's probably good i don't have the courage for she is holding extremely pointy tools against my gums. she continues to scrape away and the horrible sounds resonates through my nasal cavity and into my ears. oh, even the thought of that noise sends shivers up my spine.

i get the inevitable you-need-to-floss-everyday speech and i nod in agreement as if i've never heard these instructions before and will obey her every word. she asks me if i'm available for an appointment 20 july...yikes! i don't even know what i'm doing the 20 january much less in six months. she gives me a toothbrush, because i guess they think the agony of the visit is lessened with a new toothbrush in hand. i slide my tongue across my newly polished, still cavity-free teeth reminding myself this really is good for my pearly whites. i exit with both a feeling of relief from another visit over and dread at the thought of returning in six months. maybe i'll leave the country.

resolutions

2006-01-01T09:50:00.000-08:00

resolutions. i resolved many years ago never to make them. just because it's the beginning of a new year, we're all feeling fat from the holidays, and everyone else is making them, i don't want to feel obligated. it's like valentine's day. i'd rather celebrate i love you on a random tuesday than out of duty on a hallmark created day.

most of the time, the new year means fresh start, new beginning. we forget whatever happened last year or last night and we begin a new. less food, more movement. less busy, more checkbook accountability. whatever we did wrong last year won't matter because we will change this year. here lies the problem. we are creatures of habit. we don't like cold turkey kind of change. of course, we are diligent for awhile. our determination lasts for a moment. but the inevitable always comes. at least until we discover what lies below the surface. until we deal with the issue that is causing our overeating, overindulged, overwhelming state. [step off of soap box]

it is, never the less, an interesting topic. it is new years. and i have ten more minutes before new year's day is officially over and i must turn my resolutions in at the front of the classroom.

reso·lu·tion: noun
1. the state or quality of being resolute; firm determination [stubborn]
2. a resolving to do something [dedication]
3. a course of action determined or decided on [fixed purpose]

i've got no. 1 down.
working on no. 2 [aka finished projects]
... ah 3. that's the one i'm having problems with. purpose. determined action or decided course. ouch. it seems a little fuzzy right now. besides the get-a-tattoo and run a half marathon [more on these to come], coming up with goals for my entire year...slightly overwhelming. perhaps i just need to take baby steps; resolutions for my day.
easier pieces to handle.
today, i resolve to...

+ hit snooze only one time...or at least only two times
+ lay my clothes out the night before like professional people do
+ refrain eye roll when [insert co-worker's name] tries to prove himself
+ spend less time in front of my computer when i'm not paid to do so
+ make my bed
+ get one thing done ahead of time instead of the last minute
+ figure out what the words to auld lang syne mean
+ think a less of what i need and more of what other people do
+ wear sunscreen [i couldn't resist]

story time

2005-12-29T03:49:00.000-08:00

i like things with stories, if you haven't already guessed. i like knowing histories, hearing the narration, telling the tale. i come with a story and it seems only natural that my things to as well. don't get me wrong, there are many things i must buy without a past, though they need not be mentioned. however, other things i do not think twice about reusing.

for instance, the coat i wear is older than i am. my dad bought for my mom the winter she became pregnant with me...so technically, it was mine from the beginning. it has one of those tan suede bodies, brown fur around the collar and the big wooden buttons. it sat in the closet for the past 20 years just waiting to come back into style. now that i've claimed it, i'll continue to wear it even as it goes back out of style.
i enjoy telling its story when someone makes a comment.
man, i love that coat.

i acquired a most random item last week, a chandelier. it is from my first project all my own. i was walking around the space during demolition with the contractor. there in the middle of the former law office's conference room, i spotted it. i jokingly asked if any of the construction workers were taking it home with them and bob the builder [that's what i call him] offered it to me graciously. i know, i know, all of my things are contained within the single room i spent the last 20 years growing up in,
but someday, i promise i will move out.
and someday, i promise, i will have a place for a chandelier.

while antique shopping in iowa i found a trunk from the 1920s. both of my grandparent's have one at the end of their bed and i think since i was small, i dreamed of one for me as well. i always had my eye out, but had never found the perfect one, at least until this summer. for $60 is it was a deal i couldn't pass up. i wonder where it's traveled and what it's held. i wonder who left the scratch on the side and why the leather handle has snapped. i'll never know, but i like knowing there is a reason. my grandfather and i spent the friday after thanksgiving fitting a new cedar lining for the inside. what a special memory. i will never open it or breath in that distinct aroma without thinking of our shared project. someday it will sit at the end of my bed, but for now, it resides in the middle of my room. another chapter in its story.

yesterday, i spent my entire afternoon and evening with half a dozen different groups of people. it was really a quite eclectic and fantastic day. first an afternoon in old town with holly, then dinner with two groups of girls i formally lead in summer studies. i met old friends from college and new friends in wichita for drinks, only to unexpectedly finish the night with a co-worker celebrating a birthday with friends at the anchor.
all people in totally different places of life,
with completely different views,
each redefining truth in his or her own way,
and all with a story of their own.
i loved spending my moments listening to them tell pieces of it.

note to self: do not, i repeat, do not, get a coffee at 12:30 am no matter how good it sounds or you will find yourself again, still up at 5am and going into work at a ridiculous time.

noel

2005-12-25T21:07:00.000-08:00

regret from this christmas...i didn't send out my christmas cards. the enevelopes are addressed. the card is designed. but alas, they never made it from their digital form as a file to tangible form in your mailbox. as i said, the envelopes are ready so be looking for them on new years? birthday? random happy tuesday? just wait and see.
the card you should have received...merry christmas.

happy birthday

2005-12-24T20:58:00.000-08:00

'twas the night before christmas...

the eve of Your birth. what You must have been feeling this night before You made Your entrance into the world You created. You came not as a king clothed in earthly splendor, though You deserved the best we had to offer. You should have been wrapped in the finest blankets. people should have been waiting outside Your palace, anticipating Your first sound. but You came a different way.

You choose to be carried by an unwed teenager. only she and Your earthly father knew of Your arrival. the animals made noises in the background as they looked upon Your face for the first time. You sought not the praise of man because You already had the full attention of God. Your first visitors were not kings and priests, but unruly shepherds.
no one knew what lay ahead. but You did. You knew all along.

christmas is the celebration of Your birth. it would have been celebrated as gandi's, joseph smith, and mohammed...it would have been just another prophet's birthday if not for Your resurrection. those three days set You apart; they make You different from all the others.
Your birthday is still comemorated 2,000 years later.
we don't celebrate like this for anyone else.

some celebrate though they don't believe in You. some think it's a holiday just about giving and family. about presents and parties. candies and candles. i can understand why they are okay without You. many times i think i am too. You don't answer all my questions. i can't understand it all. but it seems the odds are in Your favor. 60 historically documented prophesies You fulfilled in your 33 years on earth. the odds of just 8 of them happening are 1:100,000,000,000,000,000...
and just in case we still doubted, You fulfilled all 60.

tomorrow, i'll wake up to my sister jumping on me and i'll try to open my eyes before the present pictures. i'll hope i bought amy the right size pants and eric hasn't purchased for himself the book i got him. we'll give and receive. laugh and tease. eat and sing.
but not without remembering it all began with You.
we breath because You created.
we think because You inspired.
we live because of Your died.

...merry christmas to all and to all a good night.

i'm becoming an architect...slowly

2005-12-20T20:49:00.000-08:00

it was one of those weeks full of extremes, the really good and the really bad, the hot and the cold. nothing luke warm. i think subconsciously, i tried to relive final's week in the real world. it was horrible. okay, not horrible, but by far the most work-induced-stress-related week yet...a whole 65 hours of it. and i got to thinking, half of my waking hours are spent "on the clock" and i have but one post devoted to such happenings. ta da...no. 2.

aside from last week, i can boldly state, i love my job. i wouldn't go as far as saying i wake up excited to go to work. after my initial fight with the snooze button, it doesn't take much to get me moving. our office operates much different than many architectural firms. we don't work in teams or on one single project at a time. during any given week, i'll have 5-10 projects run by my desk working with 3 different project managers. most of the work we do are smaller, community type projects which keeps my attention. i get bored easily on large, highly coordinated ones. the following a few consuming my time lately:

galichia heart hospital: ct remodel, or remodel, er addition
i love healthcare projects. it's not because there contain huge opportunities for "Architecture", but because the spaces i create and coordinate have such a huge impact on human life. i feel i can help people the most in healthcare type projects. but this one is a messy one. to build a hospital is one thing. to remodel it is another. moving patients, making nose, creating dust aren't exactly welcomed in sterile environments. and talk about coordination. each week 12 of us [i the only female] sit around a conference room discussing the progress of the seven different phases. words like med gases, rad room, pixis machines fly around my head.
i'm getting better at understanding...slowly.

bcs/skt ventures: relocating office to remodeled old town building
my first job as a project manager. the client is an up and coming internet/phone company with a modern sense of style. they have never gone through a building process before with an architect and to my surprise, totally trust me. [oh, if they only knew!] they love the fabric of old town and want to preserve it as much as possible. however, it's hard to do when you open up walls and realize they are supporting twice as much weight as they should in addition to having no shear support. this building, once three separate pieces, has a narrow corridor which runs down the middle. the old outside walls and windows are now inside...this is my favorite space. i've learned a lot about construction administration on this one, one of my great weaknesses. i'm not a commanding kind of person, so asking a contractor to move a wall really scares me.
i'm getting more confident...slowly.

don baxter & associates: new office building for a financial planner
another pm job, but this one from scratch...much easier. the first meeting my principal and i had with the contractor and don, we discovered a common love for wine. no sooner had we begun discussing his small wine stash in his office, than he pulled up a spread sheet of the 700 bottles he has collected at home. he opened a bottle to commemorate our first meeting and every meeting since then, we have taken turns providing a bottle. as the project's design evolved, it became tuscan inspired. after the new year, i'll hit the cd package hard and will get to put everything from the grading plan to the interior finishes together. though it's location screams suburbia america, it will be the first i see go from my head, to my hand, to being built.
i'm becoming an architect...slowly.

throw in a new wood-oven pizza restaurant, programming for a retinal clinic, and LEED research for a new "gold building" in portland, along with city review comments and zone variance applications, and you have my working week. there was a time i longed for my phone to ring or reasons to send emails with my name at the bottom. now, i cringe when heather pages me and delay checking my message light. but i truly enjoy what i do. creating, molding, forming things into being and putting all the pieces together. ..i really don't know of another profession which would fit me so well. someday, i'd like to do something i love so much that getting paid would be icing on the cake. the kind of job i am excited to get up for, one i would do without any financial reimbursement. i'm not there yet.
but i'm figuring it out...slowly.

and it came to pass

2005-12-20T10:22:00.000-08:00

msnbc's pictorial review of 2005

one step at a time

2005-12-17T08:10:00.000-08:00

this week was our office christmas party. we divided and filled the wall of booths in the restaurant, ordering anything and as much as we wanted...the big guys were paying. shrimp escargot, pinot noir, salmon, and key lime pie. still fill my stomach. gennifer and i, being the only unattached in our office, accompanied each other. she was a good date, laughed at my comments, we conferred before order, she gave me a bite of her fillet, and we swapped desserts half way. perhaps we should have been more conscious of our evening partnership and lack of significant other, but we didn't care. no worries about including our date in building conversation or introducing him to other office friends.
we enjoyed our evening together.

i'm beginning to relish this unattached life. i've realized as i've entered this new world of singlness, how unintentionally self-indulgent it is. i don't mean to say all single people are selfish or couples always practice humility. however, there is an inherent "others-minded" attitude that must exist in a relationship that singleness does not require.
it's kind of nice for a change.

however, this doesn't prohibit my mind from wandering to the act where "he" enters. "he" as, my teammate, my compliment, the one. i know you've thought about it as you stood behind the curtain of unknowning. life is full of hundreds of little decisions, made every minute of every day, which slowly accumulate to navigate and steer our journey. there are also, a handful of big decisions which when made, powerfully chart our course. for a long time, i thought i had this other-half-thing figured out. though the path then still seemed unclear,
i thought i at least knew who i was besides.
now they both seem blurry.

people tell me i need to get out there. my only first date resulted in a seven-year courtship and now some tell me i need to figure out what i'm looking for; what my "type is." i'm in no hurry. i'm not looking. call me old-fashion or naive, but i think when it's time, i'll know it. he'll find me. he'll pursue me. i often wonder, though, what he'll be like and how we will fit together. will we spend saturdays playing soccer in the park or visiting a gallery? can he cook or reconfigure computers? would he rather ride his bike or tinker with cars in the garage? does his tv scanning begin with c-span or espn? will he read to me at night or leave me notes on the bathroom mirror? have we crossed paths already or will he know the first moment i walk into view?

this thinking stirs in me not an anxiety nor overwhelm.
i feel a contented excitement.
one of the things i've learned over the past few months is,
i can't mess it up.
as long as i'm following the Truth, seeking His will,
i won't fall off the path.
i will not be his life. he will not be mine.
i cannot answer his question, "am i enough?" nor can for me.
we must take that question to You; then bring him to me.
i'll continue down this road,
eyes ahead, hands lifted, heart at peace.
in His perfect time, i will look over to find another,
traveling the same path and we'll journey together.
but for now, i'll just keep walking, one step at a time.

remind me why

2005-12-13T21:07:00.000-08:00

0600 left home
0930 meeting
1100 meeting
1500 meeting
1600 meeting missed because 1500 meeting ran over
1711 left office to save sanity. ran on eliptical.
1806 bean burrito at taco bell [hold the onions please]
1838 back to work
2153 still working....
2246 fatal autocad error. explicit uttered. file recovered.
2307 left for home

remind me why i became an architect.
remind me why i belong in this profession.
remind me why, for some sick reason, i love this.

[note to self: things still take 3 times longer than you think they will even though you've graduated. you may think you're smarter,
but you actually have to finish projects now.]

smiles with her eyes

2005-12-11T20:58:00.000-08:00

another video is in the works. this one requires me to look through pictures of my own. along with my journals, i record life pictorially in the seven photo albums at my feet. [perhaps this is an unaddressed obsession] i rarely take the time those images deserve to reminisce. pictures capture an instant, an event, regardless of their worth. but hindsight tells us they alwyas are. i laugh at some of my outfits/hair styles from high school already [i didn't think that was supposed to happen for at least five more years] soccer games and sleep-overs, trips and birthdays; all framed within the 4x6 boundary. pictures represent moments, but they can only awaken memories and feelings for those who were there. to anyone else, they do not hold the same value.

these three pictures are extremely valuable to me. they represent three separate and unique lives on the dennehotso navajo reservation.
each girl, a different journey, a different story.

i met lorena on my first trip to the reservation as a 15 year old. she came from a broken home with her brother, nolan. when nolan smiled, you smiled too because he was missing his front four teeth after being kicked by a horse. most other kids played at home all day by themselves in the absence of their parents, but lorana and nolan insisted on spending the day at the church while their mother looked for work. we liked having them there. lorena was slow to trust, but once she did, she didn't let you out of her sight. i am the same; we bonded.

asha was in my group both years i visited. i tried not to pick favorites, but if i did, asha was mine. i found ways to spend extra time with her or steal her always-ready hugs. she gave me her beloved doll before i left and refused let me give it back. today, she has entered high school. i wonder if she'd still be my favorite and if she thinks of me as i do of her.

georgina was the youngest of 5 girls. i think her parents dreamed of life outside of the arizona reservation as each child was named georgia, georginana, etc. she acted the toughest of them all, but her heart was soft. she let me see that side of her. she pretended she didn't like to be hugged, but i knew she craved being held.

these pictures remind me of how i love this indian culture. life is slow and works without schedule. the people are so hungry for hope and purpose, seeing so little in their desolate surroundings/situations. some of them still spoke navajo, but much of their heritage is being lost with each generation.

one night, we sat around and gave each other indian names. you know, like dances with wolves and old stab [legends of the fall] if i had an indian name, it would be smiles with her eyes. when something makes me happy, you can see it in my toothy grin as well as in my eyes; they get all squinty. sometimes my eyes get lost completely, no matter how hard i try to keep them open. it's genetic, the sornson in me.
i like having smiling eyes, though.
you needn't have been there to know how i felt.

tell your story

2005-12-07T19:30:00.000-08:00

first, i must start off by saying how much i love the word, blog, and all its forms...blogger, blogging, blogster, etc. i find myself going out of my way to use it in a sentence...it ranks up there with knob, argh, trabajaba and hablabamos. i think i have a word fetish.

what is the point of all of this? really...why do we blog? [n. an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a web page] why do we read blogs? why do i make tangible my words and thoughts only to send them out into the black internet abyss?

some people blog for attention, it has become an addiction for others.
a blogger's [n. an author of an online chronology of thoughts] reason to write should be because they have something to share other people want to hear. their incentive is the steadily climbing counter in the sidebar [n. one or more columns along one or both sides of most blogs main page] it slowly counts hits and assures that even if a blurker [n. one who reads many blogs but leaves no evidence of themselves] strikes, somebody is reading.
somebody is listening.
somebody wants to know what i have to say.
somebody wants to know me.
there is some truth to this motivation.
but i must say, even if the counter read "0,000" i would still write.
i blog for another reason.

if you've never heard the voice of God, you'll more than likely roll your eyes at this. but for those of you who have, you will testify to its wonder. He rarely speaks with a loud, thunderous boom or an audible sound. there are no fireworks or beams of light from parting clouds. He whispers in your ear, in your thoughts. part of you wants to believe you made it up, but you can't. you know what you heard wasn't from you. i guarantee He's spoken to you; His voice was more than likely lost in the distractions.

it was the beginning of july and i was enjoying the stillness of the evening on a run. i wish i could say i run for exercise because then i might push myself harder and actually enjoy the benefit of physical training. but i running is my therapy. i pound out my frustrations and struggles with each mile i go, each step i take. it's during this time i find myself most at peace. quiet enough to listen, still enough to hear. if i hear His voice, usually, it's on one of my runs. i heard Him on this run.

there i was, throwing it down on the pavement, laying it out,
"why me? why this? what am i to do now?"
"tell your story," He said.
"tell my what?"
"tell your story," i heard again.
"what's my story and how am i supposed to tell it? i don't have anything i would want to share and if i did, nobody else would want to hear it."
"tell your story"
*a mile later*
"argh. [argh: adj. frustrated, exasperated...i made this one up]
i don't understand...but i'll do it...it makes no sense...but i'll tell it."

so i started consistantly blogging [v. the act of writing in one's blog]. i can't write a book, i don't know how to publish articles. but i can blog. sometimes i feel like it, a lot of times i don't. sometimes i have one hundred things to post [n. a dated entry within a blog] about but often nothing at all. i don't know for what reason, for who, or why... but i write.

i remember when i was first introduced to the world of design and i began to see things through lenses of space, rhythm, and order. there was a reason for the way everything was done and i wanted to uncover why. blogging has opened a new world to me through writing. i look for a tale in the every day and ordinary, wondering if i can make something interesting out of my trip to wal-mart or dinner last night. it allows me to step back from my own life and look it from a different perspective; outside looking in. i can see things i normally wouldn't.
it has been therapy in and of itself. this is good; it's too cold to run.

we all have stories. we all come with experiences and memories, knowledge and battle wounds from living our stories. i look around at people and wonder about their journey. do they have someone to tell them to at the end of the day? perhaps they just tuck them away and forget them in the days and years which quickly pass. i don't want their story to be lost. i want them to know that it matters even when they can't understand how. sometimes i think i want to spend my life just listening to other people share their stories and then re-telling it in a way for others to hear. perhaps. but for now, i'll just work on my own.

i've thought a lot about this meta-blog [n. an post about blogging] for the past couple days and now that it's written, it seems rather silly.
but i guess that's not the point; it shouldn't matter.
"tell your story," He said. so i will.

p.s. there a crazy blogosphere [n. blogs as a social network] out there who actually have entire sites devoted to blogging and it related terms.
yikes!

on your wedding day

2005-12-03T20:19:00.000-08:00

here’s to you on your day. may God make your lives together beautiful.

the dance.

looking back on the memory of
the dance we shared beneath the stars above
for a moment all the world was right
how could I have known you'd ever say goodbye

*and now i'm glad i didn't know
*the way it all would end the way it all would go
*our lives are better left to chance
*i could have missed the pain
*but i'd of had to miss the dance

me and my shadow

2005-12-01T21:10:00.000-08:00

everything that we see is a shadow cast

by that which we do not see.

[martin luther king, jr.]

undisputed favorite

2005-11-29T19:02:00.000-08:00

i lied. call it seasonal memory lapse or a fall infatuation, but the previous mentioned [25 october] tree is not really my favorite. i believe you can have but one favorite it any given category [ie food, movies, cars, friends]. although you are allowed to change favorites over time, the title must only be given to one object at any given moment.
long ago, a gave my favorite tree title away.

we have few traditions in my family. of course there is the special plate we eat from at birthdays and other monumental occasions, popcorn for dinner on sunday nights, and grandma's danish red-button pudding every christmas. but the only custom i religiously enforce is the raising of the christmas tree. the weekend immediately following thanksgiving has been designated for this hallowed event. until then, we do not allow my mom to play her mannheim steamroller's album; one, because no christmas music can be played until the tree is up, and two, because we can only handle it for exactly 4 weeks.

our tree comes from a box. i have yet to have the "pick-out-a-tree and cut-it-down" experience. someday. but for now, the plastic one suits me fine. the lights are my job. i literally spend an hour weaving the strings in and out of the branches, making sure not a single needle is left untouched by the soft glow. the best part comes as we pull out the boxes of ornaments. when my parents were first married, they had one single ornament, bought at the tree store, and left over wine corks from their honeymoon. my mom decided at that moment, each year she would buy her children an ornament of their own, commemorating an event or a special memory from the year. someday, when we had a tree of our own, it would already be half full. concurrently, each year, we give her one back. even when we've each decorated the trees in our own houses, she will still have a tree full of memories.

we spend the next few hours telling our stories and reliving memories remembed in these little, detailed objects. we laugh at the family pictures from over the years and why we girls think eric is the favorite child. megan makes makes us giggle as she jumps around and eric pretends to play christmas music in the bugle that has never ushered a sound. amy gives up as she discovers me rearranging her already placed ornaments, but is satisfied spending the rest of the evening being entertained by megan. the pinnacle of the night occures as the angel is situation at the top. we used to fight over who could put the glowing beauty in it's place. my parent's established the logical birth order sequence, but we only ever remember by looking at pictures from last year. now we fight that it's not our turn...time for grandchildren to take over.

our christmas tree is my favorite not because of its beauty or glow.
it's not anything special to anyone but us, because it is us.
it represents our family.
it is a collection of each one us.

when i was little, i used to lay under it, looking up between the "branches" to the top. i wished i could become like one of the ornaments and climb inside. i would sit inside my baby's first christmas cradle and kick the tiny ball of my soccer ornament. i would play a snow globe man and jump around with one the clothes' pin reindeer. i would sit near the white glow of the lights and watch my family spending time together, enjoying each other, knowing i was completely and entirely loved.

eric has taken his megan back to school and amy is finishing her final project in studio. little megan is studying at her desk and my parent's are asleep in their bed. but tonight, i lay under the tree.
for a moment, time is young again.
there are no deadlines i will face tomorrow,
no dreams to wrestle with tonight.
i am free from pressures to decide what is next in my life.
i carry no burdens from the struggles of others.
i have no worries nor cares.
no tonight, it is just me and my undisputed favorite.
life is simple and innocent.
all the world seems right.
i whisper my first, "merry christmas."

movement seven: good

2005-11-26T21:10:00.000-08:00

tonight is one of those lazy kind of saturday nights where you take your shower after dinner and just sit around doing all of those things you never make time to do or nothing at all. i like nights like this, no pressure to be out and about, going or doing.
i enjoy this type of rare, uneventful evening.
time to listen. time to sleep. [or try to sleep] time to be still.

i finished velvet elvis and i must say the last chapter was definitely my favorite. usually, i'm not one to give away endings, but i think this is different. it's gotten me all fired up and i can't fall asleep. i am prompted to share my favorite passages, arranged and rearranged, taken apart and then pieced back together:

[the first church understood that people are rarely persuaded by arguments, but more often by experiences. living. breathing. flesh-and-blood experiences of the resurrection community...now it's our turn. it is our turn to rediscover the beautiful, dangerous, compelling idea that a group of people, surrendered to God and to each other, really can change the world.

the church is at its best when it gives itself away, and this is because blessing is always instrumental. God doesn't choose people just so they'll feel good about themselves or secure in their standing with God or whatever else. God chooses people to be used to bless other people. God has no boundaries. God blesses everybody. people who don't believe in Him, and people who do. people who are opposed to God and people who aren't. even people who do violent, evil things.
God's intentions are to bless everybody.

the church doesn't exist for itself; it exists to serve the world.
it is not ultimately about the church;
it's about all the people God wants to bless through the church.

i am learning how to suffer well. not to avoid it but to feel the full force of it. ultimately my gift to the world around me is hope. not blind hope that pretends everything is fine and refuses to acknowledge how things are. but the kind of hope that comes from staring pain and suffering right in the eyes and refusing to believe that this is all there is.
it is what we all need...
hope that comes not from going around suffering...
but from going through it.

the church is like a double-edged sword.
when it's good, when it's on, when it's right...it's like nothing on earth.
but when it’s bad... all the potential gets turned the other way.

the most powerful things happen when the church surrenders its desires to convert people and convince them to join. it is when the church gives itself away in radical acts of service and compassion, expecting nothing in return, that the way of Jesus is most vividly put on display. to treat people differently based on who believes what is to fail to respect the image of God in everyone. oftentimes the Christian community has sent the message that we love people and build relationships in order to convert them to the Christian faith.
so there is an agenda.
and when there is an agenda, it isn't really love, is it?
it's something else. we have to rediscover love, period.]
velvet elvis. rob bell.

passion 06...any takers?

projects

2005-11-22T10:12:00.000-08:00

as much as i complain and remorse over unfinished projects, i thought i should take a moment to commemorate those which have actually seen competition. two occurred this weekend.

i tend to approach a problem with a final image in mind; everything in between will take care of itself, but rarely does it. i think that's the architect in me. i know what i want the end result to look like, but i don't always know how to make it happen. my father [the construction project manager], on the other hand, approaches things completely opposite. the end result, to him, is determined by what it takes to get there and it matters less what it looks like as long as it works. needless to say, working on projects together is interesting. always a lesson in communication.

when i first called him up from the junkyard having found my perfect piece of steel, he laughed, "we throw stuff away like that and here you are picking it out for the head of your bed." he didn't understand yet. i cringed as the man stepped across my naturally rusticated steel, leaving dirty boot marks on its surface. i would have further perpetuated my female stereotype by complaining in this "man's domain" so i just closed my mouth. for two months, the 80lb piece of metal sat in my garage waiting to be realized. my dad wanted to mount plywood at the bottom to reduce the flimsiness as well as rounding off the corners to prevent injuries. i had to explain how that would mess up the purity of the piece and that i would take my chances with the corners...another eye roll and smile. he loves his architect daughter. this plate of steel, probably intended to be rolled into a spanding i-beam, now watches me drift into dreams each night and will probably never be moved from my room.

project #2 was begun and finished in the same week. actually, thanks to computer glitches and my luck, it was begun and finished in 48 hours...complete with a once familiar all-nighter. my family friends who recently returned from india asked me to put together a video for their trip presentation on sunday. especially for occasions and purpose such as this, editing becomes a labor of love and completely fulfilling. one of the photographer’s who went took nearly a hundred pictures of just faces...if i didn't already want to go before, there is definitely no doubt in my mind now. catie even brought me back my first salwars and i have made its saris my new winter scarf.

i reduced the 1gig, 5.5 min presentation down to a small 16mb file, but it still might take a moment to download. be patient.
i hope you find it was worth the wait. [download here]

standing up for nothing. caedmon's call

2005-11-21T10:13:00.000-08:00

my itunes tells me i have heard it 5 times already, but it wasn't until today i really listened. you know when you hear a song and for some reason, it just resonates within you i differently than it ever has before? the lyrics hold multiple meanings, strings articularly plucked in the background slowly and beautifully build only to climax and fall. i don't know what it is, but it is noon and now itunes counts it 22 times played.

lyrics sampling...

but everyday when i get up i see folks
trading in their crowns
for all these paper or plastic lives;
an opiate for the masses hounds.
and pride, like a vestige of lives lost.
it's the stench of the old folks coming 'round.

You go; i'll be waiting here.
and i'm awake, i cannot sleep.
so i'll sit upon this rock is You.
i ain't standing up for nothing.

well, i've never seen my congressman,
but i can't deny that he exists.
'cause i've seen his legislation pass;
i've seen his name on the ballot list.
same, i can't deny this fallen world.
though not my home it's where i live.
how can i preserve and light the way
for a world that i can't admit i'm in?
cause i know who i say You are,
but these crows can't be made to stop.
so i'll sit denying by this fire
i ain't standing up for nothing

lack of interest leads to,
lack of knowledge leads to,
lack of perspective leads to,
lack of communication leads to,
lack of understanding leads to,
lack of concern leads to,
this complacency denotes,
this approval denies The Truth.

so You lead; and i'll be close behind.
so You speak and i'll hang on Your words.
you've got to lift me from this hardened tree,'
cause i ain't standing up for nothing.

here i am

2005-11-16T22:15:00.000-08:00

winter has come. fall fought long and hard, but tuesday he was defeated. i breathe deep, letting the crisp air season my lungs. as my car warms up, i run back into the house. months i wait, now the day has finally come to wear my favorite
red scarf.

as i sit at my computer, lights low, and manhattan's own 12th street squeeze playing through the speakers, something at the window catches my attention. "not already," i think to myself. i walk over to the balcony. to my suprise, winter had decided to make and even grander entrance. she didn't build up to a climax near christmas time but stepped out from behind the curtain with all the confidence and brillance of the first snow. of course her display was temporary, the ground not quite prepared for her extended stay, and she quickly disappeared back into the wind. but no one could miss her white announcement.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ever wonder what is the face of london, new york, paris?
the face of tomorrow is a concept for a series of photographs that addresses the effects of globalization on identity. the large metropolises of the world are magnets for migrants from all parts of the planet resulting in new mixtures of peoples. what might a typical inhabitant of this new metropolis look like in one or two hundred years if they were to become more integrated? the resulting population is fairly uniform suggesting that if you could combine all the faces in a city right now you would be looking at the future face of that city.
the face of tomorrow attempts to find this face by taking photographs of the current inhabitants and compositing their faces to create a typical face. what we get is a new person - a mix of all the people in that city... a face that doesn't exist right now, but a face, it seems, of someone quite real. check it out!

velvet elvis. rob bell.

2005-11-13T20:44:00.000-08:00

i bought this book back in july, but am just now finishing it. i think this is due to my bad habit of starting something but not following through. it's really starting to bother me. so i've tried to buckle down. it's just a lot to handle at once. but whatever you do, you must pick it up.
you must read it. you must process through it. discuss it.
you must question it.

[the idea that some people have faith and others don't is a popular one. but it is not a true one. everybody has faith.
everybody is following somebody.

the real question isn't whether we have it or not, but what we have put it in. everybody follows somebody. all of us make decisions every day about what is important, how to treat people, and what to do with our lives. these decisions come from what we believe about every aspect of our existence. and we got our beliefs from somewhere. we have been formed, every one of us, by this complicated mix of people and places and things. parents and teachers and artists and scientists and mentors- we are each taking all of these influences and living according to which teachings we have made our own. some insist that they aren't influenced by any person or religion, that they think for themselves. and that's an honorable perspective. the problem is they got that perspective from...somebody. they're following somebody even if they insist it is themselves they are following.

everybody is following somebody.
everybody has faith in something and somebody.
we are all believers.

a Christian shouldn't avoid the questions; a Christian should embraces them. in fact, to truly pursue the living God, we have to see the need for questions. questions are not scary.
what is scary is when people don't have any. what is tragic is faith that has no room for them. central to the Christian experiences is the art of questioning God. not belligerent, arrogant questions that have no respect for our Maker. but naked, honest, vulnerable, raw questions, arising out of the awe that comes from engaging the living God.

true mystery, the kind of mystery rooted in the infinite nature of God, gives us answers that actually plunge us into even more...questions.

truth always leads to more...truth. because truth is insight into God and God is infinite and God has no boundaries or edges. so truth always has layers and depth and texture.

whatever the things are that make you feel fully alive and like the universe is ultimately a good place and you are not alone,
i need a faith that doesn't deny these moments but embraces them.
i need a spiritual understanding that celebrates these kinds of transcendent moments instead of avoiding them. these moments can't be tangents. they can't be experiences that distract from "real" faith. these moments can't exist on the edges, because they are a part of our faith. a spirituality that is real will have to make sense of them and show us how they fit. they are expressions of what it means to live in God's world.

if it is true, if it is beautiful, if it is honorable, if it is right, then claim it. because it is from God. and you belong to God.]

and i believe what i believe
is what makes me what i am
i did not make it, no it is making me
it is the very truth of God and
not the invention of any man
rich mullins. creed.

picture addendum

2005-11-11T10:33:00.000-08:00

groom & group

my two big brothers; we throw fire, not rice

couples [julie, lee, roy, aaron] roommates and not a couple [dustin & barrett]

the girls [tessa, me & kelly]

weekend reflections

2005-11-08T19:35:00.000-08:00

sometimes, i cannot distinguish one weekend from another...they begin to blur in my head. i can describe these weekends as comfortable, productive or uneventful. i don't mind them, in fact, i frequently need these rests. but there are also other kinds of weekends; those i'll remember for years to come. they are marked by an event, a feeling, a moment, a memory. for some reason, they have been given significance, etching themselves into my mind. i don’t know whether it was seeing friends for the first time since graduation, enjoying a marriage celebration, or walking around a piece of capital “A” Architecture on a beautiful fall evening, but this weekend became one to remember.
my cheeks are still sore from smiling.

when you leave high school friends, you promise to keep in touch. you claim you'll always be close; however, time quickly tells otherwise. those friendships were built on activities not depth, on proximity not accountability. though i have only been out for 6 month, i have a feeling my friendships from college will be much different. they were built not just on the convenience of studying together, but on a true need for each other. some of life’s most incredible moments have been made together. finishing 5 years of architecture would not have been fulfilling without these relationships. these ties run deep.

i soaked it up. i asked barrett tell the giant gorilla story, ryan made his infamous scowling face, and i was secretly given the traveling hrad mascot [prague girls, you know what I’m talking about!] we ate, laughed, shared drinks together, picking up right where we left off. when people asked me how i was doing, they genuinely meant it. there was no comparing jobs or projects; no trying to one-up the other. we crowded into loft 150, ignoring the horrible music in the background, and i felt a true sense of thankfulness to be in their company again. even though our time was brief, we didn’t miss the moment.[pictures to follow]

i saw the movie everything is illuminated last night...strongly recommended. it is based on the book by jonathan safran foer, produced by warner independent pictures, directed by liev schrieber, and filmed in the czech republic!

same tree, same place, same moment

2005-11-03T22:05:00.000-08:00

it was final project week. i had left at 3am to rest my mind and my body before returning 6am. i liked coming in at this time because all of my classmates were leaving in order to avoid the 7am parking tickets. the lights were off, the room was still, i was in flow. instant messenger was my tunnel to the outside world during final projects; the only way i interacted with people outside of seaton. however, this may morning, it became my poison, as it carried to me the one thing that had the capability to bring down an entire semester's worth of work: a virus. it slipped in without warning and with no invitation, destroying my machine. i was left helpless. reformat was my command; i cringed at the sound of that word. i had no time for this. reformatting my entire computer was not built into my project schedule, it wasn't part of my contingency plan. argh.

i had to get out of studio, free from seaton, away from campus, far from the city. manhattan's a small town [known as the little apple] tucked away in the flint hills of kansas. tuttle creek, underutilized by many of its citizens and actually more like a small lake, is my escape. i love this place. i have camped between its trees, studied on its shores, and skinny-dipped in its waters. i have watched shooting stars on the roof of its shelters, rode my bike over its hills, worshiped under its heavens. today, i just drove on its roads. i had to clear my head of floor plans and circulation diagrams. i had to forget about the daunting task that lay ahead of me. my windows were down and my music was up; i let it all go. a lone tree standing in the middle of an amber field stopped me mid thought. it seemed to be asking me to take its picture. i stopped my car, grabbed my ever present canon and began to shoot. as i walked around the tree i was baffled. the pictures i was taking from the back of the tree looked nothing like the image that first caught my attention. it was the same tree, same place, same moment, yet from each side, i saw an entirely different picture.

i could come up with some kind of metaphor [or simile, or analogy...i get them all mixed up] to give reason to this image. but really, i have none. every photo has its own story, a context, a reason. and i guess more than anything, i just wanted to tell this picture's story.

[oh, and thank goodness for partitioned drives...]

ready to go, willing to stay

2005-10-30T20:35:00.000-08:00

i can't sleep.
i can't read.
i can't work.
i can't eat.

tonight, all i can do is think about is india. what is it about this country that has stirred my heart? tuesday, my friends will go there for 12 days; i think i would give my left hand [as well as my right] to go with them. when the opportunity first came up, i dismissed the anxiousness in my heart because i didn't think it would be feasible with the honeymoon i thought i'd be taking. oh what i wouldn't give to go back and volunteer. a month ago, they invited me to come along; despite the short notice. i had a plane ticket reservation and approval, however, other logistics couldn't be worked out. it wasn't time yet.

"wait on Me," i heard Him say.
so here i sit.
here i wait.

caedmon's call, share the well, was playing in the background; i had to turn it off because it was antagonizing my excitement. "why india?" i think to myself. i don't know anyone from there, i have no experience working with hindu people; i have nothing to offer you. but something for you burns within me. i'm going to need flashing red lights to keep me from leaving in august for a fall internship. i have no obligations here; no car payments and soon no school loans to be paid. my possessions include a closet full of clothes, a desk, a lamp, a set of pink dishes;
all i can leave behind.

i'm ready to go, willing to stay.
until then, i'm on my knees for you.

hope this video gets your monday off to a good start. it did mine!
wet germans. the ladies at the end are the best!

all at sea

2005-10-27T20:00:00.000-07:00

my mind has been everywhere but on work this week. it often drifts off to far away places, known and unknown, to people in my past and others i have yet to meet, to memories and unwritten events. half of the time i'm sitting at my desk, i'm really not there, but nobody seems to notice. i don't mind either.

never seeing the ocean until i was 20, i think it had a greater impact on me than most. i was so overwhelmed as i stared into the vastness of it all at virginia beach; i wanted to turn completely around and see nothing but water. i wanted all people to vanish from view to leave me alone in between the scaleless waves. i think this would remind me just how small i really am; i would be humbled in His greatness.

so as i've developed weird and random dream i've realized it can be accomplished one of three ways: stranded on a life raft from a plane crash, emerging from below in a submarine, or sailing, with the wind and the sails as my company. i opt for the last one. someday i'll cross it off my list.

until then, i'll continue to listen to jamie cullum's all at sea[download must!]and think of egypt.

i’m all at sea-where no one can bother me-forgot my roots-if only for a day-just me and my thoughts-sailing far away-like a warm drink it seeps into my soul-please just leave me right here on my own-later on you could spend some time with me-if you want to-all at sea-if you don’t need it every day-but sometimes don’t you just crave-to disappear within your mind-you never know what you might find-so come and spend some time with me-and we will spend it all at sea

favorite tree

2005-10-25T00:36:00.000-07:00

for the first time since i left, i miss being in manhattan. i miss the flint hills in the fall. i long to run up manhattan hill to look down on the city clothed in its fall wardrobe. i miss my favorite tree in manhattan. i don't call very many things favorites; i use that title cautiously. however, i do not think twice in stating that i have a favorite tree, or perhaps had one. it was the kind of tree that caused me to change my walking path through campus in the fall just so i might walk by it in the warm morning light and again as the air turned brisk on my way home. this tree had the ability to call me from my studio desk, asking me to take a few moments to sit in front of it in the stillness. its color change always began at the upper left side and slowly bled its way across, creating soft, diagonal bands of color around it's form. even more than beholding it in its entirety from the front, i liked sitting at its trunk and gazing up. i'd peer between its branches, watching the sunlight filter through, bouncing all around. green turned yellow, evolving into orange, climaxing at red...it truly was a sight to behold. i miss my tree.

no longer do i have the pleasure of daily campus walks. now i pass a smelly dumpster, an empty bar, and a pizza shop on my journey from the parking lot to the office. the cities adolescent trees are held captive in wrought iron leaving little room to breath. i am beginning to miss out on the morning's glow as i leave my house only to return at its setting. but that doesn't keep me from searching for a new favorite. every tree i pass, whether or not it realizes it, is a contender for the title. the colors are just now beginning to turn, the competition will be stiff. but i am confident a new champion will be found. it is still early.

knob fest

2005-10-23T18:58:00.000-07:00

knob...i cannot even say that word without smiling. it's really random word, especially to be coupled with "fest." what is a knob fest you may be asking? what might you do at one? i had no idea, at least until last night, when i witnessed one of the most creative displays of music i have ever seen. it wasn't about performance or cd sales. there was no plug for the fisch haus studios on the floor above or when the after party started. it was all about the music, it's purity and evolution.
we use our senses to convey to others what is within us. we may begin with pictures and move onto words to explain even further. sometimes a single picture can take the place of a thousands words, and other moments, three little words are all that is needed. our touch conveys passion and intimate pieces of our souls in a way no other sense is capable of doing, or just assure another they are not alone. usually i'm a lyrics kind of girl...i like a song for the words it speaks to me and not necessarily its chord transitions or juxtaposition of rhythm. but last night, no words were spoken for no words were needed; it was just music. those notes, those sounds, those harmonies aroused every part of my being. it was beautiful.

i've listened to the videos i recorded and scanned through sound bites from the artists on the internet; it's not the same. i have to be back in that dark gallery, watching the flashing the black and white images upon the musicians and white dome behind them. i have to be in a room surrounded by 100 other people but feel as if i'm the only one, completely enveloped by sound. i have to know there are many things that matter to me in life, but at that moment, sound was the only thing that had my attention.

i think music is one of God's greatest gifts to us. i think He enjoys watching us explore and reinvent it. He loves hearing us lift the voices He's given us, or perfect the chords He first wrote. God is in every note ever played whether or not it was the artist's intent. i hate the term christian music. what does that mean, anyway? the notes have to be written by a person who follows Christ? the lyrics have to be about Him? there must be a gospel choir in the background? last night God was praised in those refrains, even if only He and i knew it.

let God have you, and let God love you- and don't be suprised if your heart begins to hear music you've never heard and your feet learn to dance as never before.
max lucado.

another cup of tea

2005-10-20T20:58:00.000-07:00

i always hated coffee. we would take studio breaks and walk down to radina's for a cup o' joe, i would opt for my alternative, tea. i just couldn't stand the bitter black drink. it didn't matter how much cream and sugar i added, nothing could beat my hot berry, or christmas chi. i must admit now, i have come to appreciate the caffeinated wonder, but my first love is not rooted in those potent beans.

over a good cup of tea do people relax and open up. as they are inhaling the warm sweetness do they let their guard down and tell their story. i love these moments. i decided someday i want to have a shelf full of tea cups; each uniquely important and each with its own history, just as the person drinking from it that they may both be told together. so this summer, i began collecting. until i have a kitchen of my own, they will remain spread out in random places about my room.

i realized my amassing had already begun. last winter, three of my studio friends ventured to japan for a field trip [did i ever pick the wrong studio!] remembering my affinity towards the green leaves, they brought me back two authentic cups. adorning their front are four, white characters. for all i know, they could say anything from "i eat rice," to "my friends went to japan and all they brought me back were these lousy cups" and i wouldn't know the difference. i still like them

my second cup holds a three part story. it was the first cup i ever purchased for this special collection, making it monumental in and of itself. secondly, it was found in my father's iowan town. my grandmother may have visited a friend and held its handle as she talked about the weather or the crop prices. as i turned it over in the store, i found the third blessing in this piece of china. it was made in czechoslovakia, now the czech republic, a country that feels like my second home.
i toast this one to you, praha.

the next three were all given to me for my birthday by the two women who know me best. the first traveled all the way from france, to find its way into nikki's hands in l.a. i love this cup because it looks like her;
just a mid-west girl finding her place in a californian world. holding a position all your own, rarely wavering, strong and decisive.

holly's begun her married life in wisconsin and also away from me. but this week, she sent me a little piece of her in the form of a white and green flowered cup. i cannot think of her without smiling; my cup always overflows when we are together. [if she came in a male form, i would marry in an instant]

and lastly, the cup which holds the emblem of kansas. though i cannot claim this state on my birth certificate, i have spent the past 20 years deepening my love and appreciation for these golden fields. the sky so big and blue above the open plains; a simple beauty i have come to deeply admire and will always feel like home.

when i'm sixty, i'll tell all of these stories along with many more, to the company gathered around my table. we'll laugh at the dreams we've had and the memories we've made. we'll listen to each other tell the same tales over and over again, knowing it will not be the last time we'll hear them either. we'll sip from my china full of history, breath deep the steaming aroma, and pour ourselves another cup of tea.

a marriage celebration

2005-10-16T20:18:00.000-07:00

i returned to my roots; or at least a half of them. this weekend our family journeyed back to omaha, nebraska to celebrate my grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary. although i have never spent more than a week there and know few other streets besides dodge street, much of my family’s history and my family, for that matter, can be found within the city's borders. as we drove along the interstate, my dad pointed out the apartment he was living in when he first met my mom, the jobsite where they met, and the church they were married in 26 years ago. my history began here too.

stratman family gatherings are never small. my grandparents raised 9 kids of their own who each went on to begin their own families. if i counted right, that gives them 34 grandchildren...can i tell you how full their christmas tree is? and the next round of great-grandchildren has only just begun. needless to say, there are no dull moments in their old, restored farmhouse. i have made so many memories between those walls and in those fields. but another post will have to tell those stories.

i love going back. i love being surrounded by family. a large part of me wishes i could have grown-up there as well, around all of them; rooting myself there. family is a funny thing, though. it doesn't matter how long you've been gone or how much you've changed, you still know you belong with them. they still support you and stand next to you.
God knew what He was doing; He knew we needed each other.

i once asked my grandpa what is his secret? what could he pass onto me after 50 years of marriage? "give 100% and expect nothing back," he said, "anything else is conditional love. marriage doesn't work on conditions, only unconditional love." i want to love like that.

grandpa jim & grandma aggie cutting the cake once again

two cute cousins and a special grandpa moment

the only thing better than traveling with the windows down and the radio up at 70 mph is not driving so that you can take pictures out the window

ten10

2005-10-11T20:00:00.000-07:00

birthdays are funny. it doesn't matter what has happened in the year since it last came around, 365 days later, the day you were born is still commemorated. to most, it is a time of celebration; to others, it is a time of mourning at the passing of another year. this year i celebrated the passing of my 24th year on this earth.

i cannot tell you how blessed i feel today knowing the great number of you who celebrated with me. beginning on friday i was overwhelmed by breakfast, lunch or dinner with you, a flooded email inbox, packages via snail mail, a sunflower bouquet, countless phone calls and glow-in-the-dark underware [bethany]! i feel extremely loved! thanks to all of you who made the tenth of october extra special to me this year.

healthy grieving

2005-10-08T14:07:00.000-07:00

grief is a normal and natural response to loss. in some way or another, we have all grieved. obviously, the first thing that comes to mind is grieving the death of a love one, but we have all experienced it in other ways as well. some have grieved over the loss of a pet, another over a championship title which slipped between our fingers. i've seen people grieve after saying good-bye to good friends or old houses, as well as bands splitting or business closings. whatever it is, however intense, we have all done it. but have we ever really embraced it so that we might grow from it?

healthy grieving is an active process of continually acknowledging the pain and mending the wound. it brings us to recovery and healing, though it is a slow and emotionally painful journey; it becomes less painful as we understrand it is a natural part of life. fortunately, much of the process of healthy grieving seems to be 'built into' our genes. acknowledging and growing from losses is such a natural process that much of it will happen without our direction. if we relax our expectations of how we should grieve and give up some of our need for control.
it is not true that you just need to give it time.

grieving is not forgetting, nor is it drowning in tears. healthy grieving results in an ability to remember the importance of our loss but with a new-found sense of peace, rather than searing pain. grieving losses is important because it allows us to 'free-up' energy that is bound to the lost person, object, or experience so that we might re-invest that energy elsewhere. until we grieve effectively, we are likely to find reinvesting difficult; a part of us remains tied to the past.

i have been grieving the end of a seven-year relationship. though i never stated it specifically, most of the underlying tones of my posts have been linked to this process. i felt like a part of me had died because things happened so quickly and without warning; i was left vulnerable and without control in the situation. it didn't seem right, had i missed all the clues? how could i have felt so confident about something only to have it stripped away from me? i've gone through cycles. first there was pain, then anger. next i would move into lonliness and despair, only to finish with confidence and an "i am woman, hear me roar" kind of attitude. [sorry for any guy who stepped in my path during this one] though the time periods i spent in each varied, i have gone through this process over and over again the past four months as i learned what it means to embraced the pain andallow myself to grieve.

i don't know if you can decide to be done grieving; but if you can, i did. i don't know what changed or when i was able to fully let go, but my grieving is over. i have a peace again and a weight off of my shoulders. i will still cry, i may still get angry, and it will be awhile before i can trust a man again, but i have worked through the pain. grief has allowed me to confront the emotions i have felt, not trying to hide them away, block them, or judge them. i have dealt with them, learned from them, and am now healing from them.

i say this not as an announcement, but as a challenge. i have seen how much easier it would have been to "move on" without grieving. we all, especially guys, would rather tuck things away to deal with at a more convient time than to deal with them. what we don't realize is that until pain is addressed, it will always be there. we may become good at hiding it, but eventually it will come out. it is baggage we become accustomed to carrying not even realizing how much lighter our load could be if we would just let things go.

our scars are a part of us, part of our stories,
this wound too will be.
You've turned my mourning into dancing.

stability in the routine

2005-10-04T19:57:00.000-07:00

i used to be scared of routines; thought i would find myself trapped in one and find no way to get out the monotony. if i ever find myself in a state of complacency and resistant to change, i think the routine should be the first thing to go. but for now, i find it comfortable. my daily schedule used to be so random, getting up at 5am for work at quick cats, coming home at 5am from studio. work out clothes one day and dress shirts the next. walk to class, ride my bike, get a parking ticket because i was lazy and drove. my process of getting ready for the day never seemed to be the same.

today, however, it's become more consistent. though sometimes i hit snooze two times instead of one, i have found reliability in my daily routine. rejuvenating my curls gets my attention first, followed by make-up, and the arduous clothes selecting, usually proceeded by a session of ironing. i always eat a yogurt with kashi on my drive in to a job i truly do love and enjoy being alone in the quietness without the radio. being a morning person, i look forward to the calm i find in the office for an hour before anyone else drags themselves through the door. i know i can only have one and half cups of coffee before my stomach starts to revolt. it growls at ten thirty and i put it on hold a couple more hours. the mornings fly by every day, but the afternoons seemed to be slowed seventy-five percent of the normal speed. i used to be startled by the trains running by our office, but now they have become the background in the soundtrack of my day.

i smile every time nancy walks by my desk as she makes some kind of comment and i can count on randy to recite the same julia morgan quote to me at least twice a month. kyle daily laughs at the random things i blurt out during the day, and i have a paper/rock/scissors battle with john every monday afternoon to decide who will pick up bagels for tuesday's staff meeting. i love the people i work with.

if i am lucky enough to get out of the office at 5:30 it takes me twenty-two minutes to get home as opposed to fourteen i usually find an hour later. the only good part of the drive home is that the time is now mine. as i fly by at 67mph, i watch the cars move around me as the suburbia america scenery barely changes. landmarks along the way remind me of many of people and prompt me to pray. i look for the familiar black car at wal-mart and pray God would bring direction to the man who drives it and boldness for another friend as i pass vegas video. i note the gas price as i exit the freeway and wonder how much longer i can play chicken with my gas gage until i succumb to the pump. i know exactly where to change lanes to avoid being stuck behind traffic at the grocery store and that i quickly need to prepare an answer for my nightly "how was your day?" question from my mother.

i covet my evenings and the freedom i find away from a desk. usually by the end of my day in the office, my legs ache from the lack of movement and beg me to take them for a run at the park. by the time the sun is setting, my mind, as well as my body, need time to unwind and process the events of the day. i've become pretty selfish with this hour of mine in the evenings and often find myself putting off other things and people to satisfy this emotional and physical desire.

my bedtime is much earlier than it ever was in college, but i appreciate the consistency to this sleep schedule. i lay down with a few pages from a good book only to give in to my nodding urges. i often think to myself, "all i have to do for the next six hours is lay here," but also know i never fully appreciate that thought. i wake up the next morning only to do it all again, but i don't mind, at least not right now. so much has changed around me the last few months, it's good to have some realm of consistentcy in life. i find stability in my schedule during a time that seems to be filled with so many uncertainties.

dine for america

2005-10-03T13:26:00.000-07:00

on october 5, 2005, restaurants across the country will band together in a "dine for america" day, a national fundraising effort for the american red cross to help the survivors, victims, their families and other arising needs from the hurricane katrina and rita disasters.

there are a list of restaurants on this website - some are giving 100% of profit.

[dine for america]

untitled

2005-09-28T20:07:00.000-07:00

internally processing until further notice

blessed be Your name, when the sun's shining down on me,
when the world's all as it should be; blessed be Your name.
blessed be Your name on the road marked with suffering,
oh, there's pain in the offering; blessed be Your name.

every blessing You pour out, i turn back to praise.
when the darkness closes in, Lord still i will say...
blessed be the name of the Lord

You give and take away, You give and take away
my heart will choose to stay. Lord blessed be Your name.

emerging professional

2005-09-21T18:23:00.000-07:00

tomorrow i leave for my first professional trip.
[the last statement does not posses the excitement i feel as i write it]

at the beginning of june, i wrote an essay in regards to my feelings on internship. you see, technically, i am not yet an architect. i am an intern architect. i cannot practice as an "architect" until i become licensed as one, which requires me to first go through idp and then pass 9 architect registration exam. for those readers who have not been infected by the world of architecture, idp [intern development program] is the 2 year minimum time period architects must go through before they are allowed to take a series of nine exams. doctors endure residency, architects waddle through idp. however, an architect's intern process is far from the refined process of a medical resident.
idp is far from what it is capable of being and thus the conference,
designing tomorrow's architect: the 2005 internship conference in san antonio, and thus the essay competition which got me there.

25 "emerging professionals" [as we are called because "intern" is no longer politically correct...thanks goes to monica l.] were selected from the pool of essays and will join with 50 other professionals from other architecture organizations. fueled around four catalytic words, empowering, innovating, envisioning, connecting, the hope is to take major steps towards a more cohesive and beneficial internship program. friday and saturday are filled with lectures and discussions. thursday night we begin with a reception to celebrate what has already been accomplished and naturally, will end with a similar gathering saturday night at the witte museum. the conference will conclude sunday with a time of de-briefing and a press conference.
all of this at no expense to me [my favorite part].

I am excited to begin my passage into the architecture world through IDP. As I begin my journey, I do not yet have the experience or knowledge necessary to walk on my own; I rely on the solid path of others who have gone before me. When I look back as I a professional, I hope I will have left a path for others to follow. We may only embark into the profession once, but we will spend ourcareers emerging into the mentors and architects we once dreamed of being. As the architecture community strengthens its fresh, moldable new members, the profession as a whole will be enriched and reinvigorated, which in turn will delineate a clearer path for future emerging professionals.
[essay excerpt]

first katrina, now rita. while most people are exiting these women's path of destruction, i am about to journey into it. i think i secretly believe i posses some unknown power to ward off any disaster upon my visit and nothing bad will happen. we'll see how that goes. i look forward to the new faces, new conversations, and new experiences.

scar stories

2005-09-18T12:39:00.000-07:00

the spring of my fourth year of college, i spent 6 months traveling/studying in europe. unexpectedly, i also spent 6 days as a patient in the uvn praha military hospital with second degree burns on 35% of my legs. it was one of those stories in life i never thought i would be personally writing; something i never imagined would happen to me. nothing is out of the realm of possibility.

the medicine in prague was very basic. the hospital looked like one we have had here in the 50s. many minor injuries were treated in the hospitals there and my 6 day stay would have been unheard of in the US. every morning the nurses would take me to a room down the hall where they would remove the white bandages, drain my blisters, apply a new antibiotic ointment, and wrap me back up until the next day.

i have never known such physical pain as i did when the hot oil first spilled down my legs. although it was never a sharp, intense pain, it was a slow, dull pain which i could feel sinking deeper into my skin. ten days after the initial accident, i relived being burned all over again. before my new skin on my legs could grow back they had to remove all of the dead skin. it was still covering and protecting the wounds, but wasn't allowing new skin to grow. it was the weirdest feeling...i could hear them cutting and feel them pulling something off of my legs, but it seemed like it should be the gauze, not my own skin. the most painful part, though, was when the doctor applied the ointment to the vulnerable area in hopes of warding off infection and healing might begin again...things had to get worse before they could get better. i remembered returning to my bed and burying my head in my pillow and turning up my headphones as loud as they would go, trying to drown out anything i could feel. i just wanted those painful moments to pass so badly, but time wouldn't hurry.[my first day in the hospital; the day before the skin was removed; i knew i should have painted my toes; sunburned looking legs; my favorite tennis shoes which still hold the slightest hint of oil.]

the next day, i stood in awe. when the bandages were removed, i could already see progress. my legs were beginning to look like my legs again and not the messy, and mangled things they looked like the day before. i could already see new skin growing in some areas. healing couldn't begin until all of the old skin was gone because it was keeping the new skin from developing.

i've been thinking about this chapter in my life a lot lately. that early may, God gave me a tangible example of one of life's lessons. how often do i hold onto things that make me dead and lead me a way from full life? i try to fix things on my own and don't want to let go of the fears i have because i don't want to be vulnerable to pain again. i think the easier, wide, less vulnerable route is the one i want. life is found on the narrow path and few find it.

pain is part of the plan.

there must first be suffering before there can be healing.

there has to be cleansing before there can be growth.

i must be torn down before i can be rebuilt.

i worried when the accident first happened that i would never be able to look at my legs the same because they would always be unattractive to me. i thought they would be ugly and i would always be embarassed to show them. i don't look at them the same now but for different reasons. the skin is discolored and when they tan the scars become splotchy. i no longer have to shave that part of my leg and i think i will always have white marks on my ankles from the blisters. but they are a part of me now, a part of my story. they made me stronger and i am better because of them; sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better.
they tell me it is worth it because He is worthy.

no discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees [and burned legs.] make level paths so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed. [hebrews 12:12-13]

older version of my eight-year-old self

2005-09-14T19:27:00.000-07:00

growing up, i was a creative child. sometimes i think my mom must have just looked at me and laughed wondering what i would come up with next. i was always making or creating something, imagining or forming something into being. many of my creations were started with such passion and excitement only to never see their own completion. i always tried to do things bigger or better than they needed to be; some things never change. i remember one time i got into cross stitching and rather than begining with a magnet for the refrigerator or a pillow for my grandma, i decided to make a 3'X3' canvas of a scene from charlotte's web. needless to say, i never even finished the pink on wilber. i built an entire plaster model of the white house successfully, but unsuccessfully, got my foot stuck in a bucket of the stuff. i had this brilliant idea of making a door stop for my bedroom with my old broken leg cast complete with my toes on the end. one essay i began for my fourth grade english class turned into a 12 page novel. i convinced my teacher i was going to submit it for a student literature contest and would turn in the assignment when it was complete; somewhere in a box in the basement it still sits upgraded.

each year for halloween i developed my own costume. of course as all children, i was a witch one year and a clown another. one october, i was decided to transform myself into a snowflake after i read a book the life of one. however, the costume i was the most proud of was the year i was the number 8. that's right, i said the number 8. being that i was 8 years old, i thought it only appropriate. i found a piece of thick foam and cut the top hole to fit my head and the bottom half of the 8 hung around my torso so i could put my hands through it to collect candy. i only wish i had a photo. [thanks to thom and nate, i got to relive this halloween costume last year!]

in addition to creating, i loved to read. i could not get enough of books. i still can't get enough. no baby sitter's club for me, i was addicted to the box car children books and anything roald dalh wrote. the cricket in times square seemed timeless to me and i'm sure i read tales of a fourth grade nothing at least five times. all of those books have passed me now, i vaguely even remember their covers, but there has been one set of books i have held on to. whether it's where the sidewalk ends, falling up, or a light in the attic, i still smile as i pick up my worn copies of shel silverstein's books. i can no longer flip through them to find my favorite words of rhyme for the pages all fall out. the glue has long past expired and the color on the page has begun to age. but they still make me smile. i remember the pictures vividly and how to say the poems so that they flow. i surprised myself as a recite a couple of them from memory, not knowing i still had it in me.

in my garage, i have projects waiting for me to finish. i recently bought a 4'x5' piece of rusticated steel which will soon become the headboard for my bed. at the beginning of the summer, i found an old 1920's chest at an antique store and am now in the process of stripping the cedar within and fitting a new tray for it. this summer i have purchased over ten books which sit neatly stacked next to my bed. i seem to find them much quicker than i can go through them, but in time i will be soak them all up. when i used to play dress up, i would always pick to be 24 in our fantasy world. i think i thought i'd have it all together by then, that i would have made sense of life and could call myself a grown up. i'll be 24 soon, i don't think i could feel further from point; actually, i don't think i'll ever reach it. some things in life we grown out of [clothes, algeries, habits] and sometimes we evolve [interests, abilities, bank accounts]. but i never want to grow-up. i'd like to think i'm just a wiser, taller, more experienced, and just simply older version of my eight-year-old self.

small enough

2005-09-10T06:52:00.000-07:00

last weekend was my own personal kick-off weekend. the college and career group at my church planned a retreat at a campsite near lawrence. i have been excited about this weekend away for such a long time. i needed a fresh start, a clean slate. i had such deep community in manhattan that i was starving for it again. i was ready to engage in relationships and be apart of something bigger and more intentional than myself. the weekend gave me a taste of that again. i have a feeling it will be difficult to trust again; but i know the risk is worth it. it is worth more than not engaging. for the first time in awhile, i began to take that risk.

i've had a lot of time to myself the past few months and being around people constantly for three days was a little much. i needed to take time to be alone and away from others. on one of my walks away, i cried out. i feel like i'm trapped, like i'm trying to break out and be free again. but something is holding me in, keeping me from truly letting go and moving on. it's almost like a catepillar ready to break free from the cacoon he wove himself into, just waiting to emerge in all his beauty. i played this season of life's theme song in my ears over and over again...

[small enough. nichole nordeman. not complete lyrics]

all praise and all honor be to the God of ancient mysteries
whose every sign and wonder turn the pages of our history
but tonight my heart is heavy and i cannot keep from
whispering this prayer, "are You there?"

and i know You could leave writing on the wall
thats just for me or send wisdom while i'm sleeping,
like in soloman's sweet dreams
but i don't need the strength of samson or a chariot in the end
just want to know that You still know how many hairs are on my head
oh great God, be small enough to hear me now

as i raised my head and tear stained cheeks, this butterfly flew right in front of me. emergence is soon, it seemed to say. it was exactly what i needed to see.

design 101

2005-09-06T21:54:00.000-07:00

today was holly's first day of school. i told her phil had to take a picture of her just as her mom used to do. she is teaching a child development class as well as a fashion/design class. i had been thinking about writing a blog on such a topic but wasn't motivated to do so until she needed one for her first day [remember, geared audience is high school sophmores]

it is everywhere; design is in everything. look around and name one thing that hasn't been created by another. the kleenex's? no, some poor man sat a computer figuring out how to fold those soft pieces of paper so that you pull one after another; i bet you never thought about him before. the grain pattern in the wood of your table? long before it ever came into being as a table, the seasons formed the shape of the grain. the curve of your fingernails are even designed by your own clipping or by the way they've been used in your daily activities. there is absolutely nothing you can touch that hasn't in some way or another been changed or designed by another. you are a designer and you didn't even know it.

not all of this design has been good. i bought an inexpensive, trendy running watch the other day. i loved how it looked on my wrist but could not for the life of me figure out how to reset the time. ever have that problem? we have designed shoes which top the fashion charts but contort our toes to unnatural, painful shapes. vehicles which are better suited for carrying troops around in iraq are now taking kids to soccer practice. good design is responsible design.

some people opt for beauty in design. to them, the color and style of an shirt are more important than the quality of the material or the ease in wash. others may choose a cell phone based on the capabilities it provides, disregarding the number of covers you can get to go with it. however, for something to be designed well, beauty and usability must be in balance. an object that is beautiful to its core is no better or wrose that one that is only pretty if they both lack usability. all the many factors of design must be in harmony and one should find pleasure in use; attractive things really do work better.

regardless of your belief of our origin of existance, everything is in a state of evolution. we are shapped by the experiences around us. when i burned myself as a child on a hot stove, i quickly learned that "red" indicated "hot" and therefore never touched it again. i remember the first computer my dad ever brought home. i slipped in the five inch floppy disk and shrieked in delight at the green words before me. color was no where to be found, much less email or instant messenger; DVDs were only a figment of the imagination. how far we have come.

embark on design not as a quest to reinvent the wheel. good designers do not start from scratch. begin by making something done once better, more responsible, more inspiring.

you are already a designer; now create like one.

inside out

2005-09-02T20:51:00.000-07:00

i am literally, sitting in a salon right now, color saturating my foil-covered head. i found this salon down the street from my work and decided to celebrate my new independence. they have this waiting area while your color sets where you can watch tv, read, or get in the internet. brilliant!

this summer has been a difficult one for me; probably the hardest ever. but it has also a turning point for me, or maybe a starting point. the way things happen still don’t make any sense to me at all; but i know i don’t have to understand to believe. i know it’s worth it even if i can't see it now. i know i will look back in awhile and be so thankful things happened the way that they did. i know that God doesn’t promise happy endings, but he does promise he is faithful and our struggles are only momentary.

the inside is beginning to come out. some people celebrate a new, independent season of life by going out to meet someone new, others by buying an outfit or taking a trip. today, i got my haircut. it's a start. i am beginning again, head a little lighter, body slightly smaller, and heart much fuller.

i have a new sister...or i soon will. my brother proposed to his girlfriend of 6 years this week. i'll tell his story since i know he won't :)

they met on the cross country team when she was a sophomore and he was a junior in high school. they dated all through their years at maize and both went and ran at pittsburg state university. most of their relationship has been spent running next to each other; pretty beautiful life analogy.

it only seemed appropiate that eric propose while running one of their countless miles together. on one of their off days from the team practice, eric took her on a run through a wooded area. he had gone ahead and arranged leaves in a heart and wrote "will you marry me?" on the ground. they only went a couple of miles before they stumbled across the secret message. eric unpinned the ring from the inside of his shorts and bent to his knee. it was a moment they will never forget.

to the two of you; may you always challenge each other, encourage each other, and run next to each other. we will continue to cheer you on.

you'll think of me. keith urban

2005-08-30T22:46:00.000-07:00

video [click to watch]

i woke up early this morning around 4am
with the moon shining bright as headlights on the interstate
i pulled the covers over my head and tried to catch some sleep
but thoughts of us kept keeping me awake
ever since you found yourself in someone else's arms
i've been tryin' my best to get along
but that's OK; there's nothing left to say*

*take your records, take your freedom
*take your memories i don't need'em
*take your space and take your reasons
*but you'll think of me
*and take your cat and leave my sweater
*'cause we have nothing left to weather
*in fact i'll feel a whole lot better
*but you'll think of me, you'll think of me

i went out driving trying to clear my head
i tried to sweep out all the ruins that my emotions left
i guess i'm feeling just a little tired of this
and all the baggage that seems to still exist
it seems the only blessing i have left to my name
is not knowing what we could have been
what we should have been*

someday i'm gonna run across your mind
don't worry, i'll be fine
i'm gonna be alright
while you're sleeping with your pride
wishing i could hold you tight
i'll be over you and on with my life*

and you're gonna think of me
oh someday baby, someday

thoughts of india

2005-08-28T01:43:00.000-07:00

i don't want to be an architect that just fills the earth with buildings. i want to know that what i am doing is increasing the quality of life. call me idealistic or naive. say i don't really know the real world or that my perspective will soon change. i don't think this desire is going away. i've been thinking a lot about india. there is a group called eMi [engineering ministries international] and their goal is to help the poorest of the poor in the world through the built environment. they have built over 500 projects in 75 developing countries. from clean water projects to orphanages to disaster relief, their projects provide direct aid to impoverished peoples around the globe while showing them God’s love in a practical way. most of the work they do is by professionals, architects and engineers, who use their two weeks of vacation to travel to one of the countries. as a team and with a full-time staff member, they spend their time in intense design and collaboration. when their short trip is over, the project is then handed over to the staff in the closes eMi office (they have 6 international offices) and the interns in the office. right now i want to be an intern in india.

so i was checking out the website and realized that i could still do a spring internship if i turned in my application by 15 september. "wow," i thought. "is this what's next for me? could i be leaving for india in january?" it's always easier for me to start over then to rebuild. sometimes i would rather go to a foreign place where nobody knows me than to drudge through baggage where i am known. but at the same time, i don't want to just run. i asked God if i am to stay, to give me something to be a part of here in wichita, something that i could invest myself in. the next day, i received three separate phone calls from three different people, all asking me to be a part of three separate ministries they thought i could be used. so i'm thinking there's a reason i need to be in wichita. india will have to wait.

no more first days

2005-08-26T21:03:00.000-07:00

remember those rites of passage i talked about before, this month marks another one. this is the first august in 19 years i have not returned to the classroom. i have always looked forward to the beginning of school...most of us did. even those students who hated the second day still had a unique affinity with the first day of a new year. i usually got a new outfit, that was my favorite part of the whole day. usually, there was also the purchase of a new bookbag, which i would carefully select, knowing it alone possed the power to placement in social groups. or course, there was always paper, college ruled of course, folders, and pencils. i never really got into the mechanical pencils, just good old-fashion no. 2 and i was good to go. the day always began with a first day of school note from my dad; i still have every one he wrote. he doesn't write us notes often, but we could always count on one sitting on the counter and it always made me cry. the first day of class was fun as you found out who else was in your class, where you desk or locker would be and who you would have in your lunch. everyone had to share part of their summer activities; mine usually consisted of visiting my grandma in iowa or camping at the lake. others would share of disney world, the ocean or cruises, but i didn't mind. i would get off the bus with anticipation, knowing the best afternoon snack was always the one after the first day [i think my mom appreciated the silence again] and it was the only day of the year i really wanted to tell her what happened that day when she asked me. the next day my answer would become "oh, nothing."

this year, however, it was business as usual. i drove to work and saw freshly washed faces sitting on the corner; because this was of course, the only day you had extra time to get ready. i looked at their clothes, assuming each piece had been selected with care. bookbags hadn't yet known burdens of books or daily abuse. i am no longer a part of that world, or at least not right now. someday i'll stand at the front door, take the first day of school picture, and send my little ones off. but for now, i just drive by.

we took my sister up to k-state last weekend. i felt like a parent. i drew her a map of everything i wish i would have known about my freshman year. she is going into the design profession so she stepped into her first studio already armed with years of supplies. unlike my first year of college when none of us knew what to expect, we came prepared with duct tape, extension chords, sticky tape, and all the tools we wish we would have brought six years ago when i moved in. i remember feeling her excitement; a new start. a world of endless possibilities. but also a fear of the unknown. i wondered if i would make friends and who i would eat dinner with at night. who would be in my studio class and would i like my neighbors. funny how the things i worried about my first day of college, were little different from my first day of elementary school.

megan and i spent the weekend with amy. we ate at my favorite places and went running on the linear trail. we bought her the rest of her first day supplies [because you know studio professors always want you to get more] and made the mandatory walmart run. it was good to be back, but it made me glad my time was done there. i'm glad the last first day of class is behind me. i dreaded the goodbye, though. for the last five years, i have been leaving her, this time, amy was leaving me. seriously, how do parents do this? i wanted to protect her, i wanted to make sure she made good friends. i wanted her to know it's okay to stay in your room on a friday or bomb a test. i didn't want her to leave a crit to cry or feel abandoned by a friend. i went through each one and i didn't want her to feel that pain. but isn't that what college is all about? going through those things yourself? deciding what you will believe and what you take a stand for, even if it's different from what you've grown up beliving. discovering that your significance is not found in your grades or the number of friends in your facebook. parent's have to let us fall and hope that they've taught us enough that we can pick ourselves up again. i'm sure they want to jump in to help [and a lot of times do] but the real growth in us happens when they let us flounder only to figure things out ourselves.

megan and i left her there alone. we cried a lot. the three of us have become so close and it's hard to let her go. i know she will fall, but i am confident she will stand stronger because of it. i am so proud of you, amy. i miss you a lot right now. know that i love you.

addendum to 19 aug 2005

2005-08-26T20:50:00.000-07:00

my evening of watching the moon from my driveway was followed by this sunrise. it only seemed appropiate for the sun to out do the moon.

sorry for this nature fettish lately...it's just really got me right now.

proud wichitan

2005-08-23T20:46:00.000-07:00

wichita, kansas. home of river festival, cowtown, and titled the "air capital of the world." we have the 18th largest zoo in the nation, moshe safdie's exploration place, and the wushock [weirdest mascot i have ever seen]. but from now wichita will also carry the title, "home of btk." there is nothing that has brought the city more national and international attention than the serial killer dennis rader. if you hadn't heard of us before, you definitely have by now. wichita didn't carry the best of name before, and this doesn't help the case.

most people in wichita have some random event or to link them to btk [bind, torture, kill]; i am no different. when i was six, my babysitter, vicky wegerle, was murdered. it is my first memory of death. i remember her being with us one day and then gone the next. i couldn't figure out when she was coming back. i overheard my mom talking to someone about her being strangled by a telephone chord and how hard she must have fought. her husband was first suspected which created quite a stirring in our little church. it wasn't until years later her homicide was connected to the already long string of btk "projects" he had created for himself.

in the same lutheran congregation, we found our wichita grandparents...well kind of. our own grandparents lived hours away and don and pete, don and pete rader that is, adopted us as their own. i cannot tell you how many afternoons were spent running around their backyard and playing lincoln logs in their living room. the first time the mug shot of the now infamous dennis radar appeared on our tv screen, the family resemblance was unmistakable. don told us later that dennis was his nephew and they had spent many a summers camping with him and his family. he was always such a family man and played with all the kids. he never would have guessed the same man was not only capable of committing such heinous crimes, but already had.

i am really quite tired of it all. i don't watch the news anymore or pick up the paper. i don't want to give him any more attention then he already has. that's all btk has wanted from the beginning; it makes me sick. last week the tv stations played the trial live for three days, sharing the gruesome details. i left the room when my family flipped to it. i have to admit, there is something in us that is curious, something that wants to know how another human being is capable of such things. but there is a much larger part of me that wants absolutely nothing to do with it.

i cannot tell you how many times i have been asked about the wizard of oz when people outside the state or even the country find out i'm from kansas. i have even had questions like, " is toto's breed more dominate there than others? have you ever been hit by a tornado? do you have lots of friends named dorthy?" are you serious? [and i really think some of them were.] i can only wait for the next round of questions that will inevitably be follow me because of the life of this wichitan serial killer. thanks.

reflections of the Son

2005-08-18T22:09:00.000-07:00

the grass was too prickly and my front porch is covered; so tonight, i laid on my driveway. i wanted to be see the sky, to sit under it, to be enveloped by it. there was little remnant of the hot day still left in the air as i let the wind blow over my body and relaxed in its coolness. living in the city, i don't see many stars, only the really bright ones. once i spent a couple weeks on a navajo reservation 25 miles from electricity; i have never beheld such a wonder as the night sky in the barren desert. the sky was sprayed with millions of white dots, glimmering and twinkling as if playing music together. i once heard that stars are simply holes in the sky, and through these holes we see the brilliance of God; only pieces of His glory.

there are no twinkles tonight; their shinning is dimmed by the walmart parking lot a half a mile away. no tonight, it was not the stars that held me captive; tonight it was the moon. i don't remember seeing it glow so vibrantly before, so big, so bright. my view from the pavement was silhouetted by the oak in our front yard; i couldn't take it all in at once. i just had to lay there and soak slowly into me.

the moon, unlike the stars or the sun, produces no light of its own. there are no gases churning together on its surface to emit light for itself. the brightness i see from it is the reflecting light of the sun. i cannot see the sun at all; it has long since set. but i can see in the moon, the effects of it and know that somewhere, it is still giving off light. even in the darknest hours of the night, the moon still spills it's soft blue hue across the streets. the sun will come again, but until then, it lights the earth through the moon.

when you live your life in Christ, you know life will not be filled with sunny days; pain and struggle are inevitable. but you know the darkness is temporary. regardless of how difficult things may seem, your hope is in something greater, something bigger, something brighter. it feels as if darkness is all around me and there is no sign of the morning sun. until i see the light of day, Lord, reflect Yourself in me.

experimenting with audio

2005-08-16T19:25:00.000-07:00

i am about to take blogging to a whole new level.
these songs go out to you...

dare you to move switchfoot
[click title to hear song]

welcome to the planet, welcome to existence
everyone’s here, everyone’s here
everybody’s watching you now, everybody waits for you now
what happens next, what happens next

*i dare you to move, i dare you to move
*i dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
*i dare you to move, i dare you to move
*like today never happened, today never happened before

welcome to the fallout, welcome to resistance
the tension is here, tension is here
between who you are and who you could be
between how it is and how it should be*

maybe redemption has stories to tell
maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
where can you run to escape from yourself?
where you gonna go? where you gonna go?
salvation is here*

collide howie day
[click title to hear song]

the dawn is breaking
a light shining through
you're barely waking
and i'm tangled up in you...yeah

i'm open, you're closed
where i follow, you'll go
i worry i won't see your face
light up again

*even the best fall down sometimes
*even the wrong words seem to rhyme
*out of the doubt that fills my mind
*i somehow find, you and i collide

i'm quiet you know
you make a first impression
i've found i'm scared to know i'm always on your mind*

even the best fall down sometimes
even the wrong words seem to ryhme
out of the doubt that fills your mind
you finally find, you and i collide

you finally find, you and i collide
you finally find, you and i collide

come to me jill paquette

i like this song not for the sound by the lyrics

broken and battered your confidence shattered but i am still here
the things that you cling to they seem to just bring you
right back to your fears
were the nails and the spear in My side not quite enough to provide
the victory you need in your life

come to Me, come to Me
if you come to Me, it'll be all right now

depression is ending this fairytale ending you've sought for yourself
broken glass photographs that use to make you laugh sit on the shelf
and you'd change the frame if you could,
but you're doing the things that you should
hoping that I'll think you're good enough

you're broken and shattered
your body's been battered by what they call life
depression is ending this life
you've been spending wrapped up in your lies
and once in a while is not enough to show to Me what you call love
don't waste My time words aren't all I want

broken and battered your confidence shattered but I am still here....

record life

2005-08-15T17:01:00.000-07:00

it’s been raining all weekend and it only seems appropriate in response to the week i’ve just had. the past couple of nights i just sat on my porch and enjoyed it. i had a best friend whom i loved to share nights like this with. we loved listening to the soft hum it made upon the pavement, the smell it left in the air, and the way it stills your heart. you see it doesn’t matter what kind of mood you are in before it starts, a gentle summer rain always brings a calmness, a peace to your soul. i miss that friend and i miss sharing moments like these with him.

jillm vol. 12 is now complete. last week i finished my 12th journal. i say this not out of pride or arrogance, but satisfaction. the last 8 years of my life are cataloged in the worn books neatly stacked on the prized bookshelf above my bed. i think all of the other books in my room secretly wish to be there knowing that only the most important books are assigned that space; perhaps they feel like a child’s forgotten christmas toy from the previous year sitting on their dusty shelves. but if ever there is a fire, those are the only things i will take. every other possession in my life can be replaced; but those words, those memories, those thoughts, can never be recounted again the way they were first recorded. in my excitement to add another compellation to my set, i called my dad in to see them all splendidly standing in a row...he was proud of me, but not quite as excited.

my first journal is the smallest of them all and took over four years to finish. but it was in it that i discovered the therapy i find in writing. writing for me has become an addiction, a good addiction, but an addiction none the less. what i share on this website is only a fraction of the thoughts that fill those tattered pages. they aren’t diaries like little girls have, full of crushes and secrets; they are the record of my life. i laugh when i read their humbling beginnings in volume one going all the way back to my 16th birthday…”trent told me after school today danny thinks he likes me…” so maybe they started as a diaries.

paralleled with my evolution, my writing has also changed and developed. today i write not just to record life, but to sort through my thoughts. a lot of times i cannot follow my thoughts until i sit and write them down. there is something very therapeutic in the connection between my hand, the pen, and the paper. it’s hard for me to sit at the computer and write anything,.. it’s labored, unnatural, and uncomfortable. i don’t remember the correct grammar rules or what a participle phrase is, i just write. my journal is like an old friend, one in whom in confide in and just listens. she doesn’t feel the need to tell me what she thinks or what she would do. she just takes it all in and let’s me see the answers for myself. each time i begin a new one, i select it carefully; no lines, paper with texture, soft cover. it's the only thing that works for me. likewise, i must have a pen which writes thick, spilling ink onto the page. the more ink, the smoother my pen glides across the page. i think i've become annoyingly anal about these tools. must be the architect in me.

upon the pages are taped song lyrics and ticket stubs, receipts and notes. sketches fill the space when words are not enough. i can flip through them and find most every struggle and triumph i have encountered. i can read about travels to far off places, as well as tearful moments in my bedroom. i find encounters with people whom i have crossed paths with for brief moments and impacts from people who are still walking with me today. there are so many memories i have tried to etch into their pages that i might remember them again as vividly as i felt them when they first happened.

i think i would be embarrassed if anyone were to pick them up and read them; sometimes i write about such silly and insignificant things. but they aren't silly to me; at least not the moment i write them. i can picture my kids someday standing around flipping through the pages of my journals laughing, “mom, i just can’t imagine you in college!” i laugh because i know i feel the same way about my mom. i look back at pictures of her when she met my dad and wonder what she was like. i hope these pages tell my children what i was like.

whatever fits you, do it. if you blog, blog more. if you sketch, sketch bigger. If you sing, sing louder. whatever you have to do to record your life, do it. then do it more.

1625.6 miles later

2005-08-06T00:15:00.000-07:00

two months ago, nikki and kevin had no idea where they would be in the next semester; a week ago they moved to la, kevin enrolled in fuller theological seminary, nikki has a job and they've hung out in malibu. sometimes when God moves, he does it fast. they picked me up on their way out of the bread basket of the world and we spent the next four days together watching the scenery change around us and enjoying each other's company on our way to their new home in los angeles.

i really never thought 35 hours in a car would go so fast. i think usually when i drive, it's to be somewhere at a certain time: in manhattan by dinner, to kc before the wedding, to wichita before dinner. when you let time control your schedule, it controls you too. this trip wasn't about schedules or agendas. we had no time frame to commit to; we just had to be in LA before my plane left monday morning. there was a sense of freedom, excitement of what is about to become, and a deadline-free kind of peace. i hadn't realized how long it had been since i felt like that...i needed it.

before i left, my mom bought time the book prayer and the art of volkswagen maintenance by don miller. i had all intentions of reading it...as we all do on car trips. but i actually didn't open it until my flight home. to my amazement, don and his friend paul take the exact same road trip i had just finished except beginning in texas and finishing further north. he drove the same highways, visited the same cities, and hiked the same trail at the grand canyon. sometimes he would describe things exactly the way i saw them, but couldn't put the feelings into writing like he did. consequently, i'm going to use some of his words; no need to reinvent the wheel.

no matter where i live or where i travel to, the plains in kansas will always feel like home. the sky never seemed so big as when i'm driving between the fields. we stopped for braums in weatherford, oklahoma, which is only mentioned because it was funny the way nikki pronouced it. we passed a wind farm as well, which i had never seen before. it kind of made me proud in a tree-hugger kind of way; it's cool when you see people using natural energy like that.

our first day final destination was found in clovis, new mexico: population 32,000 people and 70,000 cows. it's a big dairy and cheese area, but unfortunately, you can only smell the producers of both. we stayed with nikki's great uncle who spent the evening entertaining us with green chilies, stories, and his 1967 firebird [the very first year it was made] both kevin and his brother, steve, were more than excited to take it around for a spin. i admittedly was too, realizing i have never rode around in a convertible before [cross that off of list of things to do in life] and what made it even better, is riding in it while the sun was setting. i have a thing for sunsets, i don't know why. "i remember when i was a child hearing the story of noah. how desperately i wanted a rainbow of my own; a personal message from God."[70] i think mine are sunrises and sunsets; of course you all can enjoy them too. i am reminded in those transitional parts of the day, that God puts beauty around, but it is us who choose whether or not we will enjoy it. it is us who must set aside our distractions to enjoy the simple things that are truly meant to take our breath away.

so riding in a convertible at 70 mph is definitely not as glamorous as it looks on the movies. i don't think i could see half of what we were passing because my hair was in my face. towards the end of the trip, steve stood up and just yelled. he sat down with such satisfaction and excitement, "i've wanted to do that the whole time!" i love his passion. it's easy to let inhibitions or pride keep us from letting go like that. steve didn't let them miss this moment.

we took highway 60 into albuquerque. the small two-lane highway offered little traffic and a big view that didn't change with the passing miles. "it's another planet out here, you know. i've never spent any time in the desert. it's just empty. miles and miles of empty. i don't mind it that much." (81) dinner that night was in flagstaff at cracker barrel; i honestly don't think i have been to one since high school. but the food was warm and we were hungry. "i come to flagsaff with presuppositions. without having been here, i can say with confidence that half these people believe in UFOs. one in one hundred have been sucked into spinning-sphere ships and carry vague memories of little green men taking skin samples from their buttocks. they have scars to prove it and will show you if they've had enough beer, and the bar is nearly empty. the city, though, is cut from the same cloth as every other city: people living in community for need of money and companionship." [93]

"no amount of hype or brochure sales copy can prepare a person for the breathtaking depth of the canyon itself. from 20 feet away, we saw an abrupt drop in the landscape. as we near the edge, the depth is all consuming. there seems to be no bottom. no words are spoken here, and the sound of children fade to the background as a breeze whistles through sagebrush and a fiery red cliff drops under our feet. it is a top-of-the-roller-coaster feeling as i imagine myself plunging headlong over the rail. enough emotion to take a step back and catch my breath. regaining my senses, i lean over the edge and focus my eyes to find the bottom. perhaps the colorado river that we know is there will come into view. but it doesn't. what i see several miles down is a flat surface, a peninsula edged by another drop. a canyon inside of a canyon." [102] this picture doesn't even begin to capture what i felt the moment i took it; no picture ever could.

we began our hike down bright angel trail rather ambitiously. nikki and kevin even dared to venture into some off road travel, only to be scolded by the park ranger. poor steve had suffered a blow to the knee a few weeks previously and was slightly ready to reach the top. we stocked up on subway and wheat thins on our way into the canyon and enjoyed the substance and the view at the top. the short nap was our reward.

i haven't spent much time with nikki and kevin together since they've been married. i love observing the way they interact, seeing the way they've learned to talk each other, and watching them love each other. i never feel like a third wheel with them; i like being with couples like that. we posed for this picture before we ascended our last switchback. i cannot even tell you how incredible this last picture is. the ground in the background is miles below me. the green dots you see are full sized trees the rock i'm sitting on just chilling over it all. the only thing i could say was, wow. "hiking through all this beauty helps me realize that life is like a canyon. we begin at the bottom of something and we spend our lives coming to the top of it. when we begin we don't know anything and we learn and we learn, and well, okay, life isn't really like a canyon at all. life isn't really like much of anything except life itself. life is too complicated to use analogies to describe it. i am but one person and there are billions of other people and each of us have a different understanding of what life is and is about. i am not one of the Christians who believes he has a corner on truth. i believe that Christ has a corner on truth. i actually have the audacity to believe the He was truth. but i am often weak in understanding the truth." [156]

nikki and i are traveling buddies. there are very few trips i have taken in the past five years that have been without her. we spent 6 months in europe gallivanting around, climbing the hills of cinque terre, galloping on horses through the egyptian desert, celebrating mid-summer in sweeden, and riding bikes along the rhine river. it only seemed appropriate to take a picture dividing the grand canyon together as we had taken parting the red sea...i know, i know, tourist moment. the weather in the desert is funny. there is no humidity there and the temperature literally drops 15 degrees from sunlight to shadow. it can be above 100 degrees during the day and drop to the 60s at night. i know few gentlemen like the knox boys who kindly gave us their shirts as the night set in.

"the canyon wall carries the sun's shadow like a sundial...but it is slow, slow, slow; moving with all the speed of syrup." [151]

"had these [canyons] eyes, they would wake to find [four] strangers in their fences, standing in admiration as the breathing red pours its tinge upon earth's shore. these mountains, which have seen untold suns set, long to thunder praise but stand reverent, silent so that man's weak praise should be given God's full attention.

"it's a great wonder that those exposed to such beauty forfeit their obedience in the face of this miraculous evidence. had these mountains the gift of logic, they might very well contemplate both the majesty of God and the ignorance of man in one bewildering context." [289]

much to the boy's excitement [scarcastic emphasis added to this statement] we stopped at the hoover dam to behold this concrete wonder, and also allowing me to mark another visited state off of my list. it crosses two states and two timezones as it sits in the colorado river. the four towerss you see are the filters that draw water out of lake mead into the 16 generators at the bottom.

the wall drops 725 feet and at its base, is 660 ft wide. it holds enough concrete to build a highway from san francisco to new york city or a sidewalk 3ft. wide all the way around the world. that's a lot of dam concrete [we made many similar comments during our visit]. a quarter of the electricity generated by the dam is taken to arizona, another quarter to las vegas, and the remaining half followed us all the way into la. that's a lot of dam electricity.

the final leg of the drive was our most scenic though the most difficult as anticipation of our arrival mounted. the mojave natural preserve was incredible. we weaved in and out of it's peaks for an hour before we entered its desert. we also enjoyed typical sunday traffic from las vegas to la and found ourselves crawling across part of the highway at a less than enjoyable pace.

out of the window the blur of green and hills of homes open and close with the passing of each highway we cross under. "my mind focuses on life beyond the trees and the hills and this road cutting through them. it is there i imagine a small home surrounded by forest and a man sitting by a fire, reading the pages of a book he has read before and will read again. he is tired and nodding and though his eyes still brush the words, he has long stopped reading. the fading light through the windows and the warmth of the fire soothe him into a sleep from which he will not wake till morning, finding himself still dressed with a book across his lap. miles from the house, in another home, still in the here and now [albeit in my imagination] i see a family at evening supper, perhaps saying grace. and at that table there is a woman who is glad to have her husband as he has been to such-and-such a place to do business. and that same man is thinking he prefers no other company that this with which he is blessed tonight. ever nearer, and perhaps in a home just off this interstate, down a dusty drive weaving through maple and pine that spread over these rolling hills, there is a young girl at her desk, constructing a letter to the boy who has earned her heart. and just outside my window, 100,000 voices fire through the phone lines that parallel this road, each voice carried swiftly to a listener who trusts his response to bradshouldered poles and sweeping lines marking the miles from home to home and business to business."

"it is something sensational to consider that there is, far and close, vague and defined, separated but intertwined, a God who watches all and is not confused, but sets the sun to his course, frames the trees with symmetry and, with like precision, judges each man's heart as quickly as it beats...it does not escape me that i am blessed to be included in this tale of a billion human conflicts and a singular resolution." [43]

welcome to la

my friend

2005-08-01T19:56:00.000-07:00

i said goodbye to another friend today. she has moved on to the next chapter in this story we call life. she has left the place where our friendship was established and where it flourished to pursue God's adventure. i'm jealous of the life she will soon begin because she will move on without me. it's hard to let her go. it's hard to swallow the thought that i will not be on her daily list of people she sees or that our activities will no longer cross paths in the hall. i, once tightly bound with the people she surrounded herself with, will not know her new friends. i will not know her new favorite place to get ice cream or where she likes to do her laundry.

nikki is not a friend that i will lose despite the miles that now separate us. most friendships fail when distance steps in. the relationships that mean the most to me today have all been strenthened during periods of distance. i expect the same to happen with nikki. the connection we have is unique only to us. we share something different, an understanding that most of the time, goes unspoken between us. although we can be extremely vulnerable with each other, we rarely express emotion or the value of the other verbally. we're funny like that.

for the past five years, the paths of our lives have run parallel. today, hers took her away from me. it's hard for me to let her go because i don't know when our paths will cross again. will we spend another chapter of life together or will our moments always be brief? although i know our journey's will end in the same place someday, everything from now until then seems ambiguous; out of my control. i don't like that feeling.

i think nikki is one of my favorite people to pray with. she always prays with such humble confidence. when she prays for me, she always says "my friend." the way she says it, makes me seem extremely important to her, like i hold a deep place in her heart. if she were to call me by name when we pray together, i think some of the sacredness would be lost. i don't know why, but it means a lot to me for her to call me her friend. you know when you were younger and people would ask you to be their "friend." you felt a sense of belonging, of value, of significance to someone. i think i still long to be told that i matter to someone. nikki makes me feel like i matter to her.

Lord, i pray for my friend tonight. she has left everything that is comfortable and familiar for a strange city filled of unknown. Lord, be her rock and strength. show her that you are faithful. may she find joy in her dependency in You. may she step firmly with confidence which can only be found in You. be near to her.

morning glory

2005-07-27T19:11:00.000-07:00

i don't know what it is about mornings, but i love them. maybe it is the anticipation of a day yet to be lived, a page about to be written. no matter how bad the day before was, the morning promises a fresh start, a new beginning. if i'm up with the sun, i find a stillness and peace enveloping me. the yellow light glows and warms my skin as it bounces against my freckles. it feels as if the earth is coming to life. nobody seems to be in as much of a hurry to get to work as they are to get home and the drive is leisurely. i am drawn to worship as i respond to the peace around me. every day this week, i have been the first one in the office. i find myself reliving studio mornings, leaving the lights down and capitalizing on this most productive time for me...or surfing the internet a bit. i cringe as my co-worker arrives and disrupts my little moment with florescent lights in my face. at least until tomorrow's morning.

i leave for LA in 12 hours....i know, random. but one of my best friends and her husband are moving there and they recently asked me if i would help them drive down. i'm made for these kind of trips; talking, open road, spontaneous, adventure, unknown, and singing at the top of our lungs. tomorrow's our big driving day of 13 hours, 9 hours on friday, then a day at the grand canyon before we arrive in paved paradise sunday, only to fly home monday. quick trip...but how many times in your life do you get to help a friend begin her new life in LA? it is one of those live without regret moments. i hope you have one soon too.

persevering why?

2005-07-23T21:42:00.000-07:00

per·se·ver·ance: n.
1. steady persistaence in adhering to a course of action, a belief, or a purpose; steadfastness
2. persistent determination
3. contancy, dedication, endurance, purposfullness, stamina

through almost every trial we persevere. we endured through five years of studio critiques and are dedicated to causes that promote life. we fight for health despite sickness and endure hardships knowing we will be made stronger. if we don't persevere in struggles, we feel as if we've given up. we didn't have what it takes...we couldn't rise above.

i am not made to give up. i am a fighter. i would rather fight and be left with nothing than withdraw and surrender. i want to know that i did everything i could, gave everything i had, left knowing i had nothing left to offer. but it is with what motivation? do i fight because it is right and true, or because i am afraid to surrender? do i persevere because it is something greater than myself or am unyielding because it is for something think i want?

faith: n.
1. confident beilef in truth, value, trustworthiness of person, idea or thing
2. sincerity or honesty of intentions
3. belief that does not rest on logical proof or material evidence

stub·bornn: adj.
1. unreasonable, often peversely unyielding; bullheaded
2. firmly resolved or determined
3. characterized by perseverence
4. resolute adherence to your own ideas or desires

a fine line of divides the two

fond memories from seaton hall

2005-07-21T21:49:00.000-07:00

i've been doing some sorting lately and felt selfish keeping these pictures all to myself...enjoy them knowing today is friday and that we'll always look back at memories from friends in seaton and smile!

one night, none of us wanted to work in studio-so we rolled up matt's clay into little, tiny balls all over his desk and ate his lime tostitos...needless to say, that didn't put howell in the best mood!
ron and dan infamous halloween parties began 2nd year as ernie & bert

joe was ready for california 2nd year! tessa and i helping bess shade her trees, oh bess.

not much work was done in pecar's studio by matt, grant, post and jon. a going away part for tiffany!

last night in putnam hall and brad, you know what i think of this picture...:)

p.s. i better get some comments on this post!

just be

2005-07-18T18:28:00.000-07:00

this weekend, i went to kansas city. i went to see friends, buy furniture, to get away...but most of all, to drive. you see, in all of kansas, i have not found a better place to drive than between mile marker 104 and 119 on i-35. it's God's hidden treasure on the interstate between eldorado and emporia.

have you ever tried to take a picture of a moment that is so much bigger than you? every time you look at it afterwards, it hints at what you saw, but it could never begin to contain what you felt. that's how i feel on this drive. i can't really explain it to you so you will understand. it is my little piece of heaven in the prairie. there is no place where the sky feels as big, i feel as small; where the sky seems so blue and the grass seems so green. God is so real to me during these 15 miles, He is dwelling in the hills of the prairies.

every time i drive this stretch, i must have one thing, music. i turn my speakers up so loud i think the cars around me could hear it. most of the time it's songs that speak of the God bigger than me and the power and glory He radiates. i keep one hand on my steering wheel and the other out in worship. i'm not usually a person who lifts her hands in church, but there is always something so overwhelming to me in these moments on the road that i can't keep it down. it raises in worship.

because i'll never
hold a picture of the whole horizon in my view;
because i'll never, rip the night in two,
it make me wonder
who am i? who am i?
and great are You
great are You Lord.

i am always amazed when i look over at the drivers around me. do they see what they're missing? do they realize they are so focused on getting to where they are going, they are missing where they are? so consumed are they in their thoughts or life's worries that they are passing a chance to just be. i hope you don't miss it.

rite of passage

2005-07-14T22:00:00.000-07:00

life is full of mile markers, things we use to catalog our lives. my parents fondly remember my first smile and my first memory was of pain as i fell from my crib. i remember carefully picking out my outfit for kindergarten and hearing the word sex for the first time, wondering why my teacher wouldn't let us talk about it. i stopped sucking my thumb immediately after i was made fun of on the bus by a high schooler and i remember when i broke 100 lb in fifth grade. the moment i accept Christ as my savior is forever engraved into my mind. i remember my first kiss and the awkwardness and purity it held with it. there was a moment when by the world's standards i was a woman, though i felt like anything but one. i graduated from high school and remember how scared i felt the first moment i was alone in the dorm room. i couldn't imagine myself being more nervous for my first studio critique and the confident relief i felt at the last one. life is full of rites of passage; things we must go through to move onto the next. i was so embarrassed when some of them occured, and so proud in others. it's easy to drift in life; mile markers keep us grounded and remind us of where we have been, direct us to where we should go.

today, i experienced one of these moments. i received my first business card with my own name on it. for so long, i have held these cards with the names of others. i have referenced their information and honored the position they held that they might be able to distribute them. but today, that became me. i know you all felt it; that twinge of jealousy when someone said, "here, let me give you my card," and you had nothing to offer them but the corner of your programing notes. or maybe you remember the moment you were handed a box of little treasures of your own. though it may have only been brief, something in you wanted to run around the block and give them to everyone you see. something in us wants to see our name in print. today, that moment was me. but rather than run around like a crazy, i went out and bought myself a new portfolio to carry them in and officially commemorated my passage into business womanhood. so if you ever want one...

our office is located in the old town part of wichita. i park in brick stalls and enjoy this communal gallery space on my way into our office.

from now on, you will find me at column 36. i know a messy desk is the sign of a creative mind...just give me some time; and yes, you do see MEEB on my shelf, but that doesn't mean i use it.

this road. ginny owens

2005-07-12T21:14:00.000-07:00

a million miles away from anything familiar
a thousand places i would rather be
so i choke back the tears and try to find the bright side
though i find it hard to see beyond my suffering
in my heart i know Your plan is so much bigger
but this small part is all that i can see
and i believe You haven't left me here to wander
still i can't help but ponder where You're leading me

*and i ask why this road
*why this way and this load
*tell me how far i must go
*'til i see
*'til i know why this road

a million miles away from anythig familliar
what was it like to be so far from home
and though You came in love the world misunderstood You
there must have been some days when You felt so alone
but You endured 'cause there was joy before You
joy that came because You sacrificed
since You gave yourself just to spend forever with me
surely i can trust You'll lead me through my darkest times
*
from here i can not see why You'd choose this path for me
but i don't have to understand to believe that You know why
*

girl time part 1

2005-07-10T19:00:00.000-07:00

now that i've figured this picture thing out, i'm going to take some time to update from this summer! to celebrate my graduation from college and my sister's graduation from high school, we headed off to new york city for siteseeing, shows, and of course, shopping! click on any of the pictures to see them bigger

the tassel is worth the hassel...or something like that; two cute sornson sisters (megan and amy) at our open house party

best quote of the week from amy..."jill, why is new york city so different from wichita?" "well," i replied, "there are a few more people." first stop, ground zero...wow. pictures can't describe it

looking up lady liberty's tunic and down brooklyn's bridge. i gotta be a little bit of a tourist

taking in new york culture at a broadway play. times square at night was awesome despite the rain

the guggenheim where architecture is art...or amy is art

before we left, amy had to get us around by the subway all by herself. she was thankful i didn't make her navigate us around china town; home of purses, watches, shoes, and fire escapes

okay...we did go see the rascal flatts at good morning america. i have to admit, i was a little excited to see someone "famous." we ended our trip with an afternoon in central park at john lennon's strawberry fields. imagine.

girl time part 2

2005-07-10T18:34:00.000-07:00

rather than have one night of festivities, we took an entire week to celebrate the ending of holly's "bachelorette"hood in washington d.c., virginia beach, and north carolina!

bethany's nephew, cooper, had the undivided attention of 4 woman in bathing suites in virginia beach...lucky guy! the sun was so warm, but the water so cold. we couldn't sit on the sand and tan because we got too hot, but we couldn't sit in the water because we got too cold. we made the best of both worlds.

after virginia beach, we headed to the outer bank (thanks to mom and dad pittman!) we spent part of our evening watching the sunset just south of chesapeake bay; holly, the blushing bride

a day at the holocaust museum...especially appreciated after my trip to the concentration camps in poland. the museum did an amazing job of explaining such a horrible event. later that evening, we fixed dinner for our hosts, mom and dad pittman! and of course, took some wine off of their hands.

holly's wedding weekend

2005-07-05T01:25:00.000-07:00

how lucky are all of you that i can't sleep tonight and i figured out how to finally publish pictures on this blog site. june 25th, my best friend was married. here's a few glimpses of the beautiful event!

the week long bachelorette party before the wedding in virginia beach, outter banks north carolina, and washington dc: who needs strippers with entertainment like us?

rehersal dinner: a girl could not ask for two better best friends

today's the day: holly and phil seeing each other for the first time on their wedding day

poor groomsmen, at least we bridesmaids could take advantage of the wind on this hot, june evening!

dancing the night away: me and my gorgeous sister

if you want me to

2005-07-05T00:34:00.000-07:00

the pathway is broken
and the signs are unclear
and i don't know the reason why you brought me here
but just because You love me the way that You do
i will go through the valley
if You want me to

now i'm not who i was
when i took my first step
and i'm clinging to the promise
You're not through with me yet
so if all of these trials bring me closer to You
i will go through the fire
if You want me to

it may not be the way i would have chosen
when You lead me through a world that's not my own
but You never said it would be easy
You only said i'll never go alone

so when the whole world turns against me
and i'm all by myself
and i can't hear You answer my cries for help
i'll remember the suffering Your love put You through
and i will go through the valley
if You want me to

-ginny owens